#davrin would give everything to a world that looks down on him

[voltaical-art]

whatever it takes

[ariesize]

emmrich x rook: 'til the grass around my gravestone is deceased

A/N: its 4.7k words of library sex and mushy gushy feelings. TW for blood and smoking again. also on ao3 (click to check tags).

Rook’s lounging on the floor of Neve’s office, the mouthpiece connected to one of the hoses of the hookah in the middle of the group is dangling from her fingers as the smoke slowly trickles out of her mouth. Lucanis, Neve, and Davrin are all present, everyone feeling light and buzzed from the smoke. 

Nights like these make Rook feel normal. She’s with her friends, listening to Lucanis tell a story about a contract gone spectacularly wrong and for a moment she can pretend this is totally normal - that they aren’t in the dread wolf’s hideout in the fade while, taking a reprieve from planning to kill two other gods in a fight to save the world. No, none of that is allowed in here tonight. Check your apocalyptic baggage at the door and sit on the floor and pretend like everything is fine.

“Illario wouldn’t even look at me for two weeks after we got back,” Lucanis is saying with his eyes bright and smile wide, coffee in hand and passing the hose to Davrin, who wipes tears from his eyes from laughing so hard. It’s nice to see these two getting along - tensions were high after Weisshaupt and Rook was nervous they would never be able to reconcile afterwards. But here they are, this strange little family falling into step with one another. 

“Were you ever able to figure out who took your pants?” Davrin asks, causing another round of laughter from the group. Lucanis shakes his head, crossing his legs in front of him and letting his head rest on Neve’s desk behind him from his spot on the floor. 

“Never, but that does not stop me from checking every Rivani merchant stall I see. I loved those pants,” Lucanis says with a wistful note. The air in the room is warm and thick with smoke and Rook could be content to stay there for hours more, laying on the floor and indulging in the evening - or what passes for evening in this place where the light never dims - but she knows if she doesn’t move now then she’s never moving again. Her body is still aching from a fight against the Antaam she encountered in Rivain earlier in the day and she can’t help but wince a little as she starts to stand up.

Rook’s movement is met with a chorus of disapproval from the group, Davrin going as far as to give her two thumbs down. She takes one last drag from the hookah and blames her aches and pains and says, “I don't think I can follow that story up, Lucanis,” nudging his leg gently with her foot. “It's well past time for me to go lay down on something that isn't a floor,” Rook says as she makes her way to the door. 

She looks back at the group and gives them a small wave, blows them a kiss goodnight. Davrin shoos her away, Lucanis says she's no fun as he takes another sip of coffee, and Neve gives her a wink that makes Rook falter for just one second. There’s no way she knows anything, right?

Rook leaves before anything else happens that might make her linger even longer and takes a deep breath when the door shuts behind her. The air is warm but not stifling, almost comforting in a way. She doesn't think of the lighthouse as home but it is safe and for that she is grateful. She stretches her arms out, reaches down to touch her toes, listening to her joints pop and oh that feels nice, she thinks, all loose, warm and buzzy from the hookah. 

As much as she loves spending time with her friends, this crew who is rapidly approaching the sector of her brain reserved for family, she is all too eager to head inside and seek out the person she's been spending most of her time with lately. If she wasn't so relaxed and fuzzy from the evening she'd be trying not to sprint inside, through the doors, and up the stairs and into Emmrich’s bed as quickly as she possibly could. 

And who can blame her for it? She's living out dreams she didn't even know she had. Her previous partners were fast, quick, nothing to write home about - barely even footnotes on her life's story. But Emmrich? He’ll get an entire volume. Rook never knew she could be treated this way. Emmrich spends time with her like he actually cares about knowing who she is. He asks questions, recalls little comments she doesn't even remember making in the first place. He’s brought romance to her life where previously there was none. Rook didn't think she was worth gestures big or small until now. 

It’s in the way he touches her like he can’t believe it’s him who gets to do such a thing. What a concept, that he’s the one whose bed she crawls into late at night, where she wakes up in the mornings. It's with his hands that he gets to unravel her and put her back together again, his sighs that meet her lips, his words and praise that rest against her skin. 

How funny it is to have found this man made of light and love in the dark and chilly halls of the Necropolis. She's almost indebted to Solas for without him and without this war she never would have found Emmrich. 

She's equally as besotted with him too. There is nothing Rook loves more than to just be in his presence. She may be the leader here but he commands attention so effortlessly that she feels like jelly when he looks at her across a room or across the battlefield. How did she get so lucky, to be the object of his affection?

She brings him back all sorts of items from her travels when he doesn't accompany her - I found this ink in Treviso and the dark green made me think of you. Look, this flower grew in the Hossberg Wetlands of all places and I rolled it in a map so it didn't get destroyed - and he accepts them all with glee. “My little crow,” he said once after receiving one of her many gifts, laughter wrinkling his eyes and his hands coming up to cup her face, “truly living up to her title.” 

Rook is pleasantly surprised to walk through the doors and see Emmrich sitting on the green couch, a book open in his lap and a stack of others placed on the table before him. He doesn’t seem to notice her walk in so she uses that to her advantage, pulling on a lifetime of crow training to creep around and peek over his shoulder. The book he's reading is, of course, in a language she couldn't even begin to place. She presses her lips together to keep her from smiling too big in case it turns into a laugh. Rook will never understand the allure books and knowledge holds over him, but she can appreciate it all the same for books and learning have made him into who he is now, her brilliant professor who studies her with that same meticulous care. 

He’s too observant, too practiced at noticing students sneak into class late, too in tune with his surroundings out of necessity borne from life in the Necropolis, because she doesn't manage to sneak up on him at all actually. She's lost her touch, or maybe she just wants him to find her in every room so that she can't hide from him. She's addicted to his gaze and his attention, every look between them feels like she's been drinking the sweetest, most delicious wine she's ever had. It's then that he finally acknowledges her - he doesn't turn to face her but rather says softly, “Do you intend to say anything or just lurk in the shadows, my dear?” 

Rook laughs and, since they’re completely alone in this space, drapes her arms around his shoulders from behind and buries her face where his shoulder meets his neck. His hand comes up to grasp one of hers and brings it to his mouth, gently kissing it before returning it to its previous spot. 

“Guess I’m a little out of practice,” Rook says, her words muffled by his shirt. She goes around and sits down next to him, promptly swinging her legs onto his lap and laying back so her head is placed upon the arm of the couch. His gloved hand comes to rest against her shins, the other has been claimed by Rook who is holding it with both of hers, idly fidgeting with his rings and bracelets. “Am I interrupting?” she asks, knowing full well he'd stop doing just about anything if she asked him to. 

“Nothing that can't wait until another time,” he says and is instantly met with a coy, lip-bitten smile from Rook. She looks from his eyes down to his hand where she’s sliding her favorite ring, the one with the emerald, up and down his finger. “Although, might I suggest we move this conversation upstairs?” he adds, knowing exactly what that look is a prelude to.

She can't even pretend to have had other motives for seeking him out to start with. Her thoughts are always revolving around him these days, and she can't help it if those thoughts quickly turn from innocent to, well, anything but. She’s flesh and blood and who can blame her if her thoughts turn to daydreams about his hands on her, his mouth whispering sweet nothings against her lips as his cock drives in and out of her. 

Rook really does consider his offer to go upstairs for about three seconds. She almost starts to get up because truth be told she’ll do anything he asks, too but then pauses, an idea forming and she knows he's not going to go along with this but she might as well try. Rook is anything but a quitter.

Theory: Emmrich loves books, loves being surrounded by them, and though he hasn't said it yet she thinks he just might love her too. Therefore, through the combination of these elements, maybe he would be so kind as to fuck her. Here. In the library. 

“I actually think I'm perfectly happy here,” Rook says, her voice dropping ever so slightly. Her lips start to pout as she drops his hand onto her thigh and moves hers up to the neckline of her shirt. “It is a little warm in here, however,” she says as she unfastens the first two buttons. She slowly brings her hands down over her chest, her eyes never leaving his. 

Emmrich may be a gentleman and a scholar, the perfect image of a polished and professional man, but he is a man at the end of the day. A man who has divulged, in great detail, exactly how her body makes him feel. She knows he loves her curves, her short frame and the way he towers over her. He’s touched every inch of her with hands and lips and could tell you about every scar and mark and dimple she has. Rook uses this to her advantage now, hoping the tiniest amount of skin revealed from those first two buttons are enough to make his mind wander to the rest of her body that he already knows so well. She sees his eyes following her neckline down, pausing at her cleavage as his eyes grow darker, his cheeks flush ever so slightly. 

It’s now or never, she thinks as she moves her legs off of him and onto the ground, pushing off of the couch to circle around it. She wants to make this seductive, his young lover in a library openly throwing herself at him, begging to be touched and fucked while the threat of being caught looms over them. She goes to wrap her arms around his shoulders as she had when she walked into the room earlier, but never gets the chance as he’s already a step ahead of her.

He looks completely unphased as he too gets up and starts putting books back on the shelves next to the couch. She's leaning over the back of the couch and she knows she's overdoing it but she wants to see him affected by her, and wants her little scheme to unfold right here in the library. Her head is resting on her folded arms on the couch, her back is arched and she's practically begging for him to come over, touch her, do anything he wants to her. 

Emmrich spares her a glance, and she sees a look - hungry but tame - ghost over his features. He takes his time putting the books back, letting his fingers run along the edges of the spines, the shelves, even flipping through a few of them before putting them back in their spots. It’s torture for Rook to watch and wait for him to acknowledge her. It’s as he slides the last book in place that he finally says, “Rook, I know what you’re trying to do and I must insist. This is not the place.” 

“But it's the library. Haven’t you ever thought about having sex in a library?” she asks. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but that particular adventure was crossed off my list many years ago,” Emmrich says, causing Rook’s mouth to fall open in surprise. She doesn’t know why she’s so surprised - he’s regaled her with sordid tales from his student days plenty of times before - but she can honestly say she wasn’t expecting him to say that. 

She recovers quickly though, her eyes firmly set on the prize in front of her. 

“Well, as lovely as that must have been, you’ve never fucked me in a library before and I’d like to see what the fuss is about,” she sighs, turning her head to face the opposite direction. She’s rapidly approaching begging territory, ready to get down on her knees and plead with him to take her right here where they stand. She knows he secretly enjoys this side of her, a little sassy and a little demanding, just so he can knock her down a notch; Emmrich argues that he is not into using his authority in a professorial manner over her in this type of context, saying he wishes to keep these two parts of his life entirely separated, but she has yet to see him follow through on that claim. 

She hears him move but doesn’t know where he is until he’s right behind her, hands gripping her hips hard and lips brushing against her ear. She inhales sharply at his breath on her skin, his thumbs rubbing back and forth across her hip bones. “Anyone could walk in. Taash is right upstairs. What if they hear?” he says quietly while Rook tries to shift under his hands and turn to face him. His grip is unrelenting, however, and she’s forced to stay still underneath him. 

“It’s thrilling,” is all she can manage before one of his hands, the ungloved one, comes up from her body to cover her mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows how weak his hands make her, how easily she’ll follow his instruction if he takes the lead. 

“If we do this then you are not to make a sound,” he says, teeth nipping at her ear and his hand catching the moan threatening to escape her mouth. “If you do, I will stop immediately. Do you understand?” Oh how quickly the tables have turned. In an instant she went from having to convince him this was a good idea to him taking the lead, ordering her to follow his rules which she is all too happy to comply with. 

Rook nods, silently mourning the loss of his hand on her mouth as it goes back to her hips. It’s suddenly very real; she truly can’t believe she got him to agree to this as fast as he did. He was absolutely already thinking about this, she thinks, suppressing a smirk from forming across her lips.

His hands quickly begin working where her pants are fastened and she wants to help but their positioning, plus the other hand on her hip, are keeping her firmly rooted in place. It doesn’t take much to get her hot and ready, something he’d been delighted to learn early on in their relationship. After his hand on her mouth, his lips against her ear, and the fact that he’s indulging her in this fantasy and she’s already delightfully wet when he tugs down her pants slightly and reaches his hand in between her legs. 

“My dear, I do believe you’ll be the death of me,” he whispers as he slips two fingers inside of her while his index finger rubs at her clit. She wants to let him hear how good he makes her feel, wants to let the whimper that’s building in her throat out but she can’t risk him stopping now. She asked for this, begged for it even, so she’s going to do exactly as she’s told. 

He’s supposed to be a good teacher, afterall. Might as well follow his careful instruction to the best of her abilities. 

Rook barely even gets to enjoy the feeling of his fingers inside of her, his warm hand with jewels and gold and ink smudges that she so desperately loves, before they’re gone. She hears him fumbling with the buckles and buttons of his own pants and she spreads her legs a little farther apart in anticipation while rising up on her tiptoes to account for their height difference. She braces her arms on the back of the couch, says a quick prayer to the Maker that the rest of her team is busy elsewhere and won’t ruin this for them. 

What she’s not expecting is his hand coming up in front of her face. His palm is facing upwards, his fingers still shining with her slick, as he leans over her again so his lips are next to her ear when he commands, deeply and softly, “Spit.” 

She has to bite down on her bottom lip so hard to keep her mouth from opening and obscene sounds from falling out. Her lip is bloody, her eyes are closed and her breathing is deep and hard and this is the first time he’s ever asked her to do this. It’s like he can see directly into her brain and knows all of her secrets and fantasies.

To her credit, Rook is a great listener. She gathers spit in her mouth, lets it slowly spill from her blood tinged lips and into his waiting palm. She is so careful not to make a single sound, and she is rewarded by a warm exhale of breath on her neck and a soft, “Very good, my love,” said into her hair. 

She doesn’t know why she’s the one who has to be quiet when she’s not the one covered in loud gold jewelry. The sounds of his bracelets clinging against one another as he quickly strokes himself make her mouth water even more, this bubble of silence momentarily burst by the metallic sounds of his hand moving up and down. 

Rook does such a good job staying silent when he finally enters her from behind. She so badly wants to say anything, make any noise at all, as he sets a punishingly quick pace. She’s breathing heavily as she adjusts to the feeling of him inside her, her exhales being the only noise she can hear aside from the sounds of skin on skin and all of his fucking jewelry. 

Of course he isn't following his own rule, still close enough to her ear that he can say all sorts of filthy things between them. “Such a good girl, staying so quiet just like I asked,” he whispers, his breath hot against her ear and she might as well bite her lip off from how hard she's bearing down on it. The challenge of being quiet only enhances this for her, though. Knowing any sound she makes could get them caught is utterly thrilling. 

The hand that isn’t gripping her hip moves up under her shirt and cups her breast, fingers rolling and pinching her sensitive nipple until she’s seeing stars. She pushes her hips back against him and is pleased to hear the quietest moan from behind her. His hand on her hip grabs on even harder, definitely hard enough to bruise, and all of those aches and pains she was complaining about earlier today are no longer bothering her; her brain is unable to recognize sensations not being caused by her lover at this moment.

Rook was almost able to forget they were doing this out in the open until a crash from upstairs startles both of them. His hand quickly comes up from her breast to her mouth, covering it to ensure she stays as quiet as possible. They hear a muffled groan and a string of expletives from the direction of Taash’s room. Neither Rook or Emmrich make any movements, both of their hearts beating like crazy while they wait a moment longer to see if they’ll be caught or not. 

They wait one beat, two, until she slowly rocks her hips again, pushing back against him to drive his cock further inside of her. His hand is still over her mouth and she softly drags her tongue across his palm, tasting her spit and his skin and finally he picks the pace up behind her, pushing into her with more force than before. The friction is almost too much yet still not enough, her release is still out of reach but his hand over her mouth is definitely helping. 

Rook lets her mouth fall open as much as his hand will let her, lets her tongue dart out and across his palm once more before gently brushing against the bottom of his fingers, over his rings until she cannot reach any more skin. He removes his hand for just one moment, long enough to brush her hair off her neck so he can suck on the spot behind her ear, kiss his way up to the pointed tip before going back down to leave bites and bruises along her neck. 

As nice as this is, and as much as she’s enjoying herself, she needs more, needs something else to stop her brain from thinking too much and relax, let her pleasure build until it crashes. His hand on her mouth was definitely helping, and before she can think she’s reaching back for his hand and bringing it back to her lips. 

She doesn’t place his hand over her mouth this time, however. Instead she takes two fingers, his index and middle, and puts them right inside of her mouth. She hears his sharp intake of breath behind her, his rhythm faltering for just one second. It’s not often that she’s able to surprise him but she feels like she won this round of a nonexistent game. His speed quickens, he’s driving into her with such a force that she feels her knees going weak. The friction is so delightful, rougher than she expected he would ever be with her but that combined with his fingers on her tongue has her eyes rolling back, moans building in her throat that will never see the light of day. 

Rook gently starts to suck on his fingers, coaxing them deeper and deeper into her mouth until she’s got them as far back as they’ll go. Her throat is relaxed as her tongue swirls around his fingers, spit pooling around the edges of her lips. It’s filthy, it’s addictive, it’s too much at once and there it is, that familiar pressure in her belly. She’s filled with nothing but Emmrich, his cock and his hand, his body pressed into hers and he’s quietly telling her how perfect you are, how she wants everyone to see her like this, and it’s intoxicating. She’s drunk off of him, and oh how perfect it is. He slowly starts to remove his fingers from her throat and mouth, giving her one last moment to lick and suck them before removing them completely while telling her how amazing she is for taking him down that far.

His hand moves from her mouth and snakes further down until he’s between her legs, his fingers still covered in her spit start rubbing circles around her clit, and it's too much. She lets out the tiniest of sighs, pressing her lips securely together so no sound escapes as her orgasm rips through her. It’s not long until he follows her over the edge, just a few more thrusts and he’s holding her hips flush against him as he comes inside of her, biting back his own sighs of release and ecstasy. 

Conclusion: After rigorous testing, this theory can be confirmed as True. Professor Volkarin did indeed kindly enough fuck her in the library. Whether he was convinced through his love of libraries, books, or for her own self has yet to be discovered, however it can be suggested to be through the combined power of all three.

When Rook’s brain is functioning slightly again, her knees no longer wobbling and her arms no longer braced on the back of the couch for support, she can’t help but let a small laugh out. Her pants are still pulled down, Emmrich’s come is now slowly leaking out of her and down her leg. Her blonde curls are a mess and her lips are red and faintly smeared with blood from where she bit down too hard. Her neck has blooming bruises from his mouth and teeth that are already coming to the surface. She looks absolutely wrecked and she knows it, the perfect picture of debauchery. She can see it in the way he looks at her as she turns around to face him, and she can’t help the smile that spreads across her face or the hearty laugh that bursts out of her throat. 

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she whispers, still afraid of being caught. She finally bends over and pulls her pants up before working on getting her hair back into place. Her bangs are matted to her forehead with sweat and she really can’t wait to take a bath shortly. 

“That makes two of us,” Emmrich replies as he finishes buttoning up his pants. He looks far better than she does, but her trained eye notices the sweat on his forehead and the blush on his cheeks, the way his shirt and vest are slightly more rumpled than usual. It’s not long before he can’t contain his own laughter, his gloved hand reaching over to cup her cheek and kiss her before they can keep laughing.

There’s no heat behind this kiss. It’s sweet, full of reverence and what she hopes is love. He doesn’t go far when he breaks away from her, only moving so he can gently press his forehead against hers. 

“You’ve turned me into a lovesick fool, my dear. I don’t think there’s anything you couldn’t convince me to do with you,” he mutters, pressing one last kiss to her lips before pulling back and stepping away from her. “However I think it’s time we went somewhere to get cleaned up, preferably somewhere private this time,” he adds, the corners of his lips coming up into a smile. 

“Lead the way,” is all Rook can say. She doesn’t think now is the best time to blurt out that she’s oh so deeply in love with him but it’s all she can feel, absolutely sated and perfectly in love. Maybe tomorrow, she thinks as she starts to follow him towards the stairs, that’s when I’ll say it. 

For now, though, she’ll go upstairs with him. She’ll let him clean her up and then defile her again and again until neither of them can stay awake any longer. And maybe, when she’s cracking her eyes open for the first time tomorrow he’ll still be in bed with her, awake but content to hold her as she drifts in and out of sleep in his arms. His hands can trace patterns into her skin, his gentle touch tethering her to consciousness. It will be warm and cozy, soft and lovely and perfect and should she be so lucky it's how she’d choose to wake up every day for the rest of her life. 

[queenmuzz]

5 Stages of Grief

Takes place after Tearstone Island, so beware of spoilers

Read HERE on Ao3!

It’s just a moment.  It’s the time it takes for a man to fall in love at first sight.  The time it takes to place a kiss on a lover’s throat.  One moment she’s there, bloody, bruised, and yet determined to grab that dagger out of a would be god’s corpse.  The next, she’s gone.

  He blinks, assuming the distortions of the veil have just obscured her from him.   She’ll be there, grinning as soon as she knows that Harding and he are okay, only to look back at the pit where Davrin and Assam gave up everything for Lucanis to take his shot.  Knowing her, she’ll try to remain stoic as she mourns their loss, before making her way towards Elganan, her greathammer slung over her shoulder, determined to avenge their deaths, and to rescue Bellara.  And he will be at her side the entire time. But she does not appear.  The light of the crackling veil settles down, as a figure, no bigger than her, stands in her place, his hands resting behind his back.  Emmrich has never laid eyes on this unexpected  newcomer, but the spirits whisper his name in his ear as loudly as Harding hisses it. Solas… The Dread Wolf…

Harding instinctively (or because unlike him, she already knows what he purposely remains blind to) lets loose an arrow, which would strike true, if it didn’t shatter into fragments inches from the elf’s face.

“Your Rook has played her part admirably.”  He states with a hint of pride, “I must give her due credit.  She has outdone my expectations, not only leading a group of such disparate people, but taking out a would be God.  You all should be pleased.”  He looks sad, even remorseful maybe. Or maybe it’s all an act.  He is the God of Lies and Betrayal after all. “Which is why your part in this, and hers, has finished.  You have succeeded in killing Ghilan'nain, at the cost of two of your companions, but Elgar’nan is a different matter altogether.  You cannot hope to best him.” He looks up at the eclipse and the gathering storm clouds that threaten to obscure it. 

“Where is she?”  Lucanis growls, speaking the words Emmrich is unable to say.

“There is a term in chess,” Solas speaks slowly, deliberately, “called ‘castling’, where the King can exchange places with the Rook.  If there is any chance for this world to be saved, the Rook had to be sacrificed so that the King would not be captive in a prison of regrets.” No, he’s using a metaphor.  She can’t be gone… she can’t be dead.

“Your part in this story is over.”  His eyes look at them with passivity that barely conceals a deep well of guilt, “And as a token of thanks, I release you from any obligation, and I highly suggest you make haste with your companions to get off this island.” “We can still fight!”  Harding yells out, but Solas gives her a small pitying smile, the type a person would give to an ant trying to climb a table leg to reach a plate of food, before flicking it off.

“And how indeed will you do that, Lace Harding of the Inquisition, without… this?”  One of his hands reveals itself, holding a dagger that glows defiant against the ever increasing gloom. “Again, I urge you to leave.  Elgar’nan’s wrath is terrible to behold, and nearly impossible for any mortal to withstand.”

Emmrich is willing to take those odds, even as the first of many lightning bolts strikes nearby, setting a blight tendril ablaze.  The others begin to back off, even as Solas walks away, with barely a glance.  Emmrich takes a step to follow him, to demand where his Rook, his Zea is, but he’s yanked off his feet by burly arms. “No way, bone man, you are not going to get yourself fried.  I’m not telling your creepy little butler that you got zapped.”  Taash’s voice is harsh, but not unkind, even if it’s hard to make out over the roar of the wind and thunder. 

“Release me!” He yells at her, but his voice is swallowed by gale force winds as he struggles against the unyielding bonds that are Taash’s arms as The God of Lies grows smaller in the distance, until finally, the swirling clouds obscures him from view.

The rest of the trip back is barely controlled chaos.  No one speaks, but each takes their role without instruction.  Taash is directing the boat through perilous waves.  Harding keeps a lookout for Antaam ships, most of whom are capsizing under the storm.  Lucanis and Neve secure the rigging, and Emmrich… he stands there holding the mast, his eyes never leaving the rapidly receding island.  

That is, until a beam of light, more brilliant than the noontime sun erupts from it, blinding Emmrich.  There’s a few moments of silence, only punctuated by Neve practically screaming to everyone to hold on to something, and then a blast of an ungodly roar as the island explodes, sending a shockwave through the air, and a tidal wave that lifts their tiny boat in a swell that causes his stomach to drop.  The irrational part of his mind is thankful that Rook’s not with them, she hates deep water, and this would be a nightmare to her.  The other part of his brain is trying to insist that Solas must have sent her to the Lighthouse.  Surely even if he didn’t have confidence in them taking down Elgar’nan, he had enough respect that he would not lock her away in the same prison he had resided in.

As their vessel spins and gets tossed on the chaos of the sea, he clings onto that hope as hard as he clings onto the mast.

_______

They stumble through the Eluvian, all of them soaked to the bone from sea water.  The ‘landing’,  as Harding euphemistically put it, had been rough, and it was a miracle all of them managed to jump off before the boat smashed into a rock, and to swim to safety.  He now fully appreciates Rook’s aversion to any water deeper than a bathtub.

“What do we do now?”  Harding asks, sounding lost and for over a minute there is no response as the adrenaline wears off and they come to the harsh realization of what has happened.  Usually, Rook would give instructions if she was feeling confident, or a suggestion of what to do next if she was unsure.  But now…

Maybe she is unaware of their arrival?  Perhaps she’s with Manfred.  His mind will not accept any other explanation.

“We ought to…” he hesitantly suggests, “Get ourselves cleaned up and then meet up in the dining room to plan our next step.”  Yes, that seems to be a reasonable small thing that anyone can do.  “That sounds good,” Lucanis agrees, letting the tension in the air slowly ooze out, “And I’ll make us something to eat, something light, perhaps some bread and cheese.”

Everyone nods numbly as they make their way to their rooms, and Emmrich can’t help but notice the way they pair up,  Lucanis supporting Neve, her prosthetic leg somehow bent from all that has transpired.  Taash all but scoops up Harding and carries her to the dwarf’s room, with Harding only protesting with a surprised squeak. That leaves Emmrich standing there… alone.

Bellara, the dear girl, should be running ahead, her agile mind already trying to figure out if there’s a way to kill a god without a dagger.  He can see her now, going through complex theoretical formulae as she thinks of enchantments she’s studied from the blade. Darvin should be standing there, ruffling Assam’s feathers, trying to remain stern as he praises the griffon for his timely help during the final battle, promising a truffle hunt after all this is over.  Assam, of course, would only hear the word ‘truffle’ and start squawking until Davrin gave in and remembered he had a stash of truffles in his room.

SHE should be there, at his side.  Ready to have that little talk that they had promised each other.  About his ridiculous anxiety about mortality.  About his absurd concern about their age difference.  They’ve faced so much together, they’ve slain a GOD together.  What more does he have to fear? He doesn’t try to answer that as he hurries up the stairs.  She must be there waiting for him.  She MUST.

It’s uncomfortably quiet as he enters his study.  No hissing from Manfred as he attempts to solve a block puzzle.  No griping from Johanna’s skull as she attempts to plan another way to get out of her bindings.  And no soft humming of Nevarran folk crypt songs as his Rook reads another of his books.

“Zea, darling?”  He speaks into the room, and is answered by a startled hiss.

Manfred clambers down the stairs, dragging a knitting project he’s been working on, and the ball of yarn bounces down with him.  

“YOU BACK!”

Emmrich doesn’t bother at correcting Manfred’s grammar, and looks frantically around.  “Where’s Rook?” “DUNNO.”Again he ignores, or is too preoccupied to even hear the incorrect pronunciation, especially as a flash of gold catches his full attention. There, pinned to Manfred’s lapel, is a gold skull, its eyes filled in with gems that match Zea’s eye color.  It was her first piece of grave gold, given to her by him.  Seeing it on Manfred causes his spirit to soar.  She must have been here!  Left it with Manfred as a sign! “Manfred… where did you get that brooch?” The skeleton looks down, adjusts it, so its eyes send out sparks of light.  “ROOK GAVE BEFORE YOU LEFT.” His mouth feels dry like grave dust. He remembers shortly before they had departed, he had seen her talking softly with his protege, and had just assumed it to be reassurance that they’d be okay.  She hadn’t spoken to him about that conversation, had barely spoken to him at all until they had crossed that bridge where he attempted to bring the previous night’s argument up.  He hadn’t seen her wear the brooch in her hair, or affixing her cloak, and had assumed she just carried it out of sight, where it could not fall off in a fight.

“ROOK GAVE TO ME TO KEEP SAFE.” Manfred continues, unaware at the rising panic in Emmrich’s mind, that perhaps he’s been deluding himself the entire trek home.  “SAID SHE WOULD KEEP EMMRICH SAFE!  AND SHE DID!”  The skull looks around, its emerald eyes twisting in an appearance of confusion. “WHERE IS ROOK?”  It’s a question he desperately wishes he could answer, but doing so might destroy him.

And a fear, deeper than death, darker than any chasm in the Necropolis, fills his chest. 

[megs-98]

i had to shower without music so naturally i spent the entire time thinking about what the datv companion/rook bathrooms would look like

i'm gonna add my thoughts under the cut but everything will be sfw, there's just going to be a lot of rambling cause i will be talking about every companion and my rook. also i haven't finished the game yet so some thoughts are definitely incomplete

now i don't know if the fade would generate bathrooms for each character or if this place that can seemingly produce anything would just plop down a communal bathhouse. but i like to think the caretaker would make sure each person has a personalized ensuite. i also think that these bath areas would change as you get farther along in that companion's quest, similar to how harding's room gets more and more plants in it as you do her quest.

like

harding, for example, would her shower start off as a waterfall cascading off of rocks. symbolizing her love and appreciation of her ancestors and then by the time you finish her quest would there be a massive leaf coming from the rock side causing the water to cascade down? similar to the giant flower coming from her ceiling, tying in her love of plants

or with davrin. at the start, would he just have a pond? of questionable water? cause those wardens are roughin it for sure. but then as he and assan find their turlum, the water clears and rock walls form so assan can jump into the water from different heights? giving both davirn and emmrich a heart attack cause we know manfred would want to give it a try

would neve have a small area with basically just a bowl of water, a bar of soap, and a cloth? essentially only giving herself a bird bath cause she has leads to follow up on.. but as she continues through her quest and knows she has people to count on and is not alone in the world so she, for lack of a better word, grants herself time to enjoy a relaxing moment bathing, so an actual bathtub with nice soaps and soft towels appear. it doesn't need to be elaborate, she still enjoys things that are practical and get the job done

bellara's could go one of two ways in my head; either her shower would be more akin to rain falling through the tree canopy. or would it start as a small waterfall feeding into a stream. not sure how it would improve on itself from there though. maybe the foresty area comes more and more to life maybe having a calmed relic or two

taash, i think taash's would start as something more qunari centered, but as they learn more about themselves !and especially if rook encourages them to embrace their riviani culture! it would turn into a desert oasis and is just their small patch of paradise to enjoy however they choose to

emmrich i think his would be a practical bathroom but with a flair. i honestly haven't finished his questline yet but i know he's secure with himself and knows what he likes. so of course it would have all his creature comforts, maybe even have a box or something that would warm up his robe for him

lucanis would have a rather grandiose bathroom. he is used to the finer things in life and has an appreciation for style. he would have all the latest items popular with antivans, but he would prefer a small flow of water coming from the ceiling. could you imagine how broody he'd be in the shower, and it would probably cold too so he doesn't fall asleep. but then as he and spite are able to work together, he feels more comfortable to sit in a warm bath, appreciating how relaxing it can be, especially with a good glass of wine, hopefully even spite enjoying it to whatever extend he's able too

now for rook. my main rook is crow!rook, named yaryna (goes by yary) hers would definitely be practical but still have her favorite items. she's knowledgeable about plants, she is a poisoner after all, so she'd have eucalyptus hanging from the walls, some aloe vera, maybe an orchid or two. just a decent amount of high humidity plants, a *mirrorless* vanity table where she keeps her skin/hair care and makeup. and as she progresses through the story, finding more confidence in herself, a mirror would appear. her area wouldn't necessarily turn better, but she'd appreciate what she has, what she has always had, seeing the importance in "average" things, just as she does with herself.

[slothquisitor]

Costs of Leadership

Summary: In which Rook has to make a choice, and Lucanis doesn't believe anyone is coming to save Treviso. Also, my official petition to give Mourn Watchers cool bone magic. Eventual Rook/Lucanis, 3k.

Read on AO3.

_____________________________________________________________

When Camina had met Varric and Harding, she’d felt more resigned about traveling with them than anything. In those first few days, Varric had told her a story, one that she was not entirely sure she believed until almost a year later when traveled through a magic mirror to a ritual site that was everything Varric had feared it would be. Somehow, over the course of the last year, Varric’s cause had become hers. But she’d still never wanted to be a leader. Had only taken up the mantle because Varric had insisted that she did after he was effectively sidelined. She had thought that Neve or Harding might question her, especially after her disastrous attempt at stopping Solas’s ritual. Instead, they’d looked relieved to have someone stepping up. And some part of her had been relieved too, for another chance to fix things instead of simply making them worse for once. 

In some ways, she feels like she’s play-acting being a leader like she’s not making this all up as she goes. But at least she knows that part of being a good one means listening to the team when they come up with great ideas. And she’s grateful that Harding had found a way to get in touch with the Wardens even after she’d botched the meeting with the First Warden. 

The blight is changing, and they need experts, and the gods have been quiet so far. Some days, she wakes up in the Lighthouse on the makeshift bed in the room she calls hers and feels like maybe they’re actually making some progress. Today had started that way. 

It’s certainly not ending like it. 

They might have met Davrin and Assan, and she might have convinced Davrin to join them, but it had come at a cost: two dead Wardens, twelve missing griffons, and a promise to help Davrin get them back from a terrifying monster. She wishes it was less of a mixed-bag day. 

It’s a quiet and somewhat heavy trek through the Crossroads back to the Lighthouse. She’s looking forward to being back in the safety of the Lighthouse, to a warm meal, a bath, and some rest. 

“So this is where you live, huh? In the Fade?” Davrin asks, looking around with distrust at the Crossroads. 

“You get used to it,” Harding says encouragingly. 

“Yeah,” she agrees. “It’s cozy and the gods can’t find us here.”

“Right. Never going to get used to that,” Davrin replies flatly.  

He’s borne the news about the elven gods better than expected, anyway. When she’d noticed his vallaslin, she’d tried to be careful in her explanations. He’s a Warden and not with a clan, so it’s hard to say where his actual beliefs fall, but even if the gods were nothing but a fairy story to him, learning that they’re not only real but trying to blight the world…it’s a lot. 

She steers the conversation away from that particular topic for now. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you and Assan a nice -” She stops mid-sentence when she sees Bellara in full gear running toward them. 

“Rook!” Bellara calls. From the look on her face and the alarm in her voice, something is very, very wrong. Neve and Lucanis aren’t with her, and her mind immediately starts jumping to worst-case scenarios.  

“What’s wrong?”

Bellara takes only a moment to catch her breath before diving headlong into a rushed explanation. “Oh Rook, everything is wrong. Treviso and Minrathous are both under attack. Blighted dragons! Two of them. Neve and Lucanis already left to go try and help. I stayed behind to let you know, and to find out what we should do. We have to help them.”

“We got back just in time it sounds like,” Harding says, not bothering to hide her worry. 

She has been waiting for the gods to make a move and now they have and well, it was never going to be just one dragon was it? She shoves down the tiredness she feels and starts asking questions. She doesn’t like any of the answers. 

On the one hand, they’ve got Minrathous, the seat of power in Tevinter, currently overrun with Venatori who might use a fucking dragon to make a political play. But it has a few things Treviso doesn’t: namely defenses. On the other hand, Treviso is a merchant city already under occupation whose best defense is a group of assassins currently playing vigilante. The Crows are good at what they do, but a dragon is not an assassination target. 

“Where should we go, Rook?” Harding asks. There’s a trust there, that she’ll know what to do, the right answer to make. No matter what she says, she knows Harding and Bellara will follow. It feels like too much power for a single person to hold. 

From a purely strategic standpoint, they should go to Minrathous. Throw everything they’ve got in one basket, do everything possible to keep it afloat, to keep the power balance shifted their way. Losing Treviso would be terrible, but it’s not Antiva City and in some ways, with the Antaam occupation, it’s already lost. There’s no guarantee that they can do anything to stop the gods in either city, but there’s a better chance if they all stick together. She’s just not sure if she’ll ever be able to sleep at night knowing that she was sacrificing one city to try and save another. 

For a moment, she is back in the Grand Necropolis surrounded by undead and ignoring an order to retreat, to pull her team back. 

“Davrin and I will head to Treviso to help Lucanis. Harding, you and Bellara go see if you can help Neve.” 

She doesn’t like it, splitting the team like this, but what other play does she have? She hopes Neve and Lucanis will understand her rationale. She hopes she’s not dooming anyone, any place. 

“Let’s go.”

***

Lucanis never used to feel fear. He had prided himself on that fact, thought it made him more professional. And then he’d been captured and fear became as constant a companion as Spite. But even that fear seems to pale in comparison to the cold trickle of terror inching its way through his veins as he and Teia run through the streets of Treviso with their fellow Crows as a dragon bellows overhead. What does he know of fighting dragons? In all his years of training and contracts, nothing could have prepared him for this. 

He and Teia have taken nearly half the Crows with them and are sweeping the streets, killing as many Antaam as they can and directing civilians toward safer parts of the city. He trusts that Viago and Illario are doing the same along different routes. Lucanis doesn’t believe that they can stop this, but maybe they can alleviate the worst of what might be. When he’d left the Lighthouse, left Bellara with the message for Rook, he knew that he’d be going into this fight alone. 

Treviso is his home, but it is not as important as Minrathous. He knows this. Rook will too. But the Crows protect their own, so he directs another group toward a legion of Antaam and keeps making his way through his ruined city while the streets shake and a dragon roars.

“We can’t keep this up forever! Wherever that dragon attacks, the Antaam immediately follow,” Teia calls as she throws a dagger through the neck of an incoming warrior. 

“I’m open to suggestions, Teia,” he replies as he dodges an incoming blow. He spins to lodge his own dagger in the gap between the Antaam’s armor and helm. The qunari collapses heavily. He’s fighting as carefully as possible, willing Spite not to manifest those wings or any other indicator that he’s more than he seems, but he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to keep this up. They’ve been fighting for a while, and he’s already tiring. The Ossuary really did a number on him. 

“We can’t fight it if it’s in the air! We need to lure it to the ground,” she says as she trades blows with another Antaam warrior. 

“Okay, and how do you propose we do that?” 

Teia rips her blade free in a spray of blood that barely misses him. “I don’t know. This is all a bit above my pay grade.”

“Tell me about it,” he replies, looking around his crumbling, burning city. At least Caterina isn’t here to see this; it would break her heart. And there is some relief in that, in knowing that the only person he truly has to worry about here is Illario. 

“Lucanis!” 

He whips around at the sound of his name, and he has a hard time believing what he’s seeing for a moment. Running through smoke and debris and downed Crows and qunari is Rook.  Her armor is covered in blood and dust, but her purple eyes are bright and her magic is too. She shoots spells through her staff at nearby Antaam, looking for all the world like a hero in one of the romance novels he enjoys. She’s here.

The surprise gives way to immense gratitude. She’s not alone either, she’s being trailed by a burly, well-armored elf and…is that a griffon?

Teia grins. “Rook, it’s good to see you.”

Rook turns to the elf beside her. “Davrin, this is Lucanis and Teia of the Antivan Crows. Davrin is our new Warden contact.”

Davrin nods in greeting and then gestures to the griffon beside him. “And this is Assan.” In answer, the griffon jumps excitedly, lopsided ears flapping. He feels even more relief now. Rook hasn’t only come to help, but she’s brought a Warden. Surely that means she’s got a plan. 

hey don’t have time for pleasantries; not while Treviso burns. “We need to find out where the Antaam are coming from and get that dragon on the ground.”

Rook glances around at the carnage surrounding them. She points to a nearby dead Antaam warrior. “This is one of their legion captains?”

“Yes?” 

She turns towards Davrin. “I need you to find another dead Antaam with armor like this and I need you to bring me their foot. Lucanis, can you keep them off me for a few minutes?”

Davrin stares at her in concern. “You want me to do what?”

Rook takes a deep breath. “I’m happy to answer any and all questions when we’re not in the middle of a battlefield. Can you help me?”

Davrin looks like he wants to argue. “Yeah. Sure.”

“I’ll go with you, I have a feeling I’m not going to like this,” Teia replies before they re-enter the fray. 

“Rook, what are you doing?” he asks. He wants to trust her, but she’s not making a lot of sense. 

She kneels down next to the corpse, rips the boot off the Antaam’s foot, and pulls a sharp, thin dagger from her pouch and something that looks suspiciously like a saw. “I have a way of figuring out where the Antaam are coming from, but I need you to be okay with the methods.”

“Is this a weird necromancy thing?” 

She doesn’t answer him and instead fillets the skin off the Antaam’s largest toe in quick, deft movements. He realizes with some horror that she’s done this before. “Mierda.”

Once the bone is exposed, she saws it clean through until all that remains is the small nub of blood-covered bone. She holds it in her palm and begins whispering words he cannot quite catch. The bone shudders and then glowing green, it rises, hovering just above her palm.

Lucanis can feel her pull on the veil, her magic responding to her call. It doesn’t feel like blood magic, but it doesn’t feel right either. When her eyes open, they glow a sickly green that reminds him of veilfire. 

“There’s an encampment and a dreadnought near a square building. The building is a few stories tall and there are stone reliefs on the second and third floors… I can see the Chantry building not far from it…and the canal…”

“The governor’s residence?” Lucanis asks.

Rook blinks rapidly, the spell fading. “That’s where this warrior was for the last twenty-four hours at least.”

“Whatever you did, told you that?” 

She looks less than thrilled about having had an audience for this. “It’s called bone reading.” 

He has heard of bone reading. Zara even had her own mystics, but that is not what Rook has just done. “That is not like any bone reading I have seen.”

“Does the governor’s residence make sense? Do you think Ghilan’nain could be there?”

He thinks about the directions they’ve been encountering Antaam from. Perhaps they’ve turned it into their garrison. “Maybe.”

Davrin reappears, holding a still-bleeding foot out to the side as far as he can from his body. “Alright, Rook. Now will you tell me what we need this for?”

Rook quickly repacks her tools. “Sorry Davrin, turns out I don’t need it.”

“Of course, you don’t,” Davrin grimaces and then tosses the foot into the courtyard.

“Do you have a plan?” Lucanis asks. 

Rook nods, going a little pale. “Yep. But it’s a really bad one.” She pulls out the lyrium dagger from her belt. 

“You’re going to taunt a god?” he asks, wishing he was more surprised. 

“If you’ve got any better ideas, I’d love to hear them.”

He really, really wishes he did. “I’ll get to the governor’s residence.”

She tucks the dagger away and gestures to him to lead on. “You ever fight a dragon before?” 

He begins to jog. “Can’t say I have.”

“Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything,” she replies lightly. 

He’s pretty sure they’re all going to die. And well, he supposes trying to protect his city isn’t the worst way to go. 

Lucanis learns three things fighting a dragon. The first is that Ghilan’nain is horrifying. If that monster was ever a person, she’s not one anymore. The second is that his daggers aren’t very useful against a dragon. Which, he could have probably guessed. The last thing he learns is that Rook is absolutely batshit insane. She flings spells and magic and dodges attacks and acts like this is any other fight when they all know it’s not. But somehow, in the end, they’re all still standing when Ghilan’nain calls her dragon off.  

Bruised and battered they make their way back to where they’d diverted from the rest of the Crows. It’s a relief to see Teia and hear that the worst has been avoided even if it doesn’t feel much like a victory. Rook is only one person, but whatever she’d done in that fight had spooked Ghilan’nain enough to call the dragon back. If she hadn’t come to help…he doesn’t like to imagine how much worse it could have been. 

“We should get to Minrathous,” Rook says, but she sounds tired. There’s still ice in her long, dark hair and dirt streaked across her cheek. 

They’ll rest when they’re dead. He trusts that Teia and Viago and Illario can handle the rest. “Let’s go.”

They rush to Minrathous, and he still has to wonder a bit at the miracle that is. That they can be in Treviso one moment and Minrathous within the same hour. But it doesn’t matter how quickly they’ve hurried here, he knows as soon as they step out of the eluvian that they’re too late.

Blight is everywhere. The buildings in Dock Town that aren’t burning are groaning under the weight of the blight. There’s a sense of wrongness in the air. They find Neve, the Viper, and Tarquin just outside the ruins of the Shadow Dragon hideout. The Viper lays on a box, clutching an injury. 

“Smells like blight and death,” Spite says, recoiling from the scene. For once, they seem to be of one mind.  

The few Shadow Dragons he can see are hurrying from place to place, tending injuries, directing those carrying in bodies, and coordinating what relief they can from this ruined corner of the city. If there was any question about how things had gone in Minrathous, it is dispelled by this harrowing scene. 

“What’s the situation?” Rook asks. She looks at Neve with worry. They’re too late, and Rook knows it, but she’ll need to hear it from Neve first. 

Neve shakes her head, defeat showing in every line of her body. “Look around. I don’t know where to start. Venatori had a clear shot at the palace while we faced a dragon we could barely hurt. The Viper drew it away from a safe house and took a claw to the gut as thanks. A healer could fix the wound, but the Blight is already in him.”

The devastation is clear in Neve’s voice. The anger too. 

“I’m so sorry,” Rook says. “What can I do to help?”

Tarquin steps forward from his place beside the Viper. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough? This is all you, isn’t it?” He gestures to the ruined city. “The blight. The dragon. Now the city’s lost to the Venatori.”

If Lucanis expects Neve to jump to Rook’s defense, he’d be wrong. The Viper waves Tarquin off, but the silence that follows is deafening. Rook is just one person, and he’s not sure her being here really would have made the difference. But it’s pretty clear it doesn’t matter. 

“I sent Bellara and Harding to help, and we came as soon as we could. Treviso was under attack too…I didn’t…I tried.” Rook’s words falter as if she knows as she’s speaking them that there aren’t words enough to make any of this better. 

Lucanis is struck by the desperate unfairness of the whole thing. It should have never been a trade. How is anyone supposed to choose when faced with something like this? And that’s why it was that way, wasn’t it? The gods had to know that they couldn’t be everywhere at once. Treviso is safe enough for now, but the cost is staggering. 

Neve squares her shoulders and steps up to Rook. “Tension’s a little high. You should go for now. I need to be here a while. See to things.”

“Neve…”

Neve shakes her head. “Just go.”

And so they do, but Rook is uncharacteristically quiet the entire way back to the Lighthouse. 

[stardustandash]

33, 35, and 39 for both of your Rooks! :D

Alright, here we go for Aylin de Riva and Darys Thorne

33. What do fear demons look like to Rook?

For Aylin I think fear demons look like undead, but wearing clothes or trinkets belonging to those they hold close. Like they're being hunted down by dead friends, with the implication being that they couldn't save them. Nightmares definitely get worse after the Varric reveal and the events of the endgame. Visiting the Necropolis with Emmrich and hearing his take on death and the undead does help with the fear somewhat, but not enough to make them shift into something else.

For Darys fear demons are all about what could lurk in the shadows, becoming twisted creatures that slip around the edges of his vision. Sometimes they look more like Darkspawn, sometimes more like people, always with hands reaching out to grab him and pull him down into the darkness. His least favourite kind of demon to encounter, excepting perhaps despair. He does not have a good time with all the despair demons in the game. Too full of empathy and too easily pulled in.

35. Ultimate comfort food meal:

Lol I actually put Aylin's in a fic, though the chapter has yet to be posted. They love Antivan cooking, and their absolute favourite dish has to be sopa coàda. Which I definitely found by googling traditional foods to the real city of Treviso in Italy. It's a slow-baked dish of layers of pigeon meat and bread, covered in cheese and pigeon broth. Its warm and hearty and simple, perfect for them.

Darys has somewhat lower expectations when it comes to food, and has been pleasantly surprised by everything introduced to him by Bellara and Lucanis. To him, the best comfort food in the world would be freshly baked bread with a big pat of butter. Maybe a thick soup or stew to go with it, but it's all about that warm, fresh bread.

39. What is their room at The Lighthouse like?

Aylin's room is pretty bare bones. They still have their space in Antiva, why would they unpack here in the Fade where things might disappear? They have a few trinkets here and there: a vase of flowers from Harding and an ancient elvhen trinket from Bellara, books from Emmrich and a copy of Varric's Tale of the Champion, a carved crow from Davrin and a newspaper clipping from one of the cases they and Neve solved together in Dock town. New things, for their new life, but ready to go at a moment's notice.

On the other hand Darys is determined to make the room his. He's spent the decade or so of his life living in Grey Warden camps and barracks, never having his own space beyond his bedroll or his bunk. So he's covered his room in the Lighthouse with any decor he can find, though taste is something he's yet to acquire. He lets Lucanis take him shopping for fancy linens and soft pillows and Harding give him potted plants, and has a whole table dedicated to Necromantic Items in the hopes of pleasing Emmrich whenever he should take the opportunity to visit him in his room. He has a whole set of carvings from Davrin and some serials gifted to him by both Bellara and Neve on top of one of the bookshelves.

Thank you for the ask!!

And because I've gotta, here's Aylin and Darys visuals, Aylin has silver hair, and Darys is the ginger.

[mossarchives]

Veiltober day 4 - Lucanis

Name: Leo Mahariel Pronouns: He/Him Race/Class: Elven Veilranger Faction: The Gray Wardens Background: One of the former Heroes of Fereldan, joined with a spirit of Sorrow, now looped back into saving the world from the Blight.

Sorrow and Spite are like oil and water. 

Leo watches the purple apparition circle the ghostly remembrance of Tamlen, who tries its best to avoid eye contact. As always, the tears that spill unceasing from Sorrow’s eyes disappear as they fall from its cheeks, but Sprite’s prodding has made them flow fast and hot. 

“Your elgar is harassing mine,” Leo says, knocking his knee into Lucanis’s thigh. The two men are sitting together in the library while the others rest. 

The antivan looks up from his book, frowning, at the conflict in question. “Spite, contain yourself. Sorrow is miserable enough.” 

The demon snarls at its host, but a pointed glare from both men sends him prowling away. He fades through the wall and off into some other part of the Lighthouse, giving the remaining three a change to sigh. 

“I dislike that spirit.” Sorrow crouches, folding in on itself. 

“You and me both.” Lucanis says under his breath, shaking his head.

Leo tucks his thumb between the pages of his book and lets it fall closed as he looks over the spirit. It seems fine, aside from how odd it still is for him to see it so solid and physical in a space. 

“You’ll be alright, Abelas.” The elf leans back and sets his book back on his knees. He looks sidelong at his companion. “And so will you, Lucanis.” 

Embarrassment passes over the man’s face for a moment, as if he hadn’t been expecting his words to be heard. He attempts to smooth it over with a cough, returning his dark gaze to the pages of his book, but Leo takes the opportunity to study his face. His cheeks are brushed pink, traveling down his neck and he absently runs the thumb of his free hand against the pads of his fingertips. 

He does motions like that a lot, flexing his hands or pressing his fingers together. At first glance it seems like any normal stretch a seasoned assassin might do, but Leo can’t help but wonder if there’s something else to it. A reminder of how his own skin feels stretched over his bones after everything he’s been through. 

Lucanis catches him looking and Leo holds his gaze. The man’s eyes are intense even without him trying, and Leo might have flinched away had the two met years ago. He was older now, though, not so quick to crack beneath the stare of an attractive man. 

Lucanis breaks the silence first. “What does ‘abelas’ mean?”

“It means ‘sorrow’. I have been away from my clan, and other Dalish, for many years.” Aside from Bellara and Davrin, now. The two younger Dalish have been a breath of fresh air, despite their high energy keeping him on his toes.”I try to keep my elvish in tact by naming those close to me. Sorrow is abelas, Morrigan is ma vehnan, and you…” 

He tries to think of something to call Lucanis in Elvish, something personal. It would be easy to label him Mi or Din'an, but Leo will not reduce him to a weapon. He is more than death, more than spite, more than just a crow. Leo is more than just a warden, more than his bow, and more than sorrow. 

“Mirthadra.” Leo decides. “Honored.” 

[icharchivist]

Veilguard Spoilers

I love that this arc ends on an actual discussion, being compassionate to Isseya. First because well. I liked Isseya in the book and i understand her anguish.

But mostly because like... Davrin is basically introduced to us as a Grey Warden and a Monster Hunter: He Kills Monsters, and one day, "In Death, Sacrifice", he will die for the true heroism he wants.

He has always been chasing death in some way or another. For glory, for safety, for protection, for the greater good... His fate would have been to die giving the archdemon a killing blow -- this is what he would have wanted for himself.

he didn't want to be Assan's caretaker. He was his bodyguard. But then the caretakers died, and the monster Davrin was hunting took the griffons, except for Assan. Davrin was thrusted into this position of caretaker that he didn't want.

and then he killed the archdemon at Weisshaupt, and didn't die, and had to carry the weight of living on while a lot of his friends had died. The Death he's been chasing, living for, wasn't rewarding the way he had hoped it to be. The hero he has been in this "failed death" wasn't satisfying to him, and the heroic deaths of his friends only brought him pain. This is what he's been looking for? Glory in death, while all that awaits in death is sorrow?

and by growing to protect Assan, he helped brought life back into this world. The extinct griffons now being able to have a new life ahead of them, and Davrin having to make the choice for them too on what will be best for their future.

and now as he's challenging everything to protect Assan from another Grey Warden, who's gone wrong... it's talking to her, and connecting back to her humanity, her love for the griffons, that save the day. It's not by killing Isseya that he's protecting the future, but by reminding her that the Griffons deserve to live.

Davrin chased Death hoping it would give him the high he wanted to make history, but it's in life and in protecting life that he's been able to grow.

When the Grey Warden Monster Hunter faced the Grey Warden Monster, it's not by killing her that he saved what mattered. It was by talking her down and remind her of how she had a heart once.

That's just. such a good theme. From death came life. like how when the Blight gets pushed back in Lavendel, the flowers return. Davrin is the living embodiment of it. He's more than the heroic death he had wished for: a hero in life, for life, for the lives who still have yet to live.

and he loves Assan very much....

[ajaxskingdom]

The amount of Excitement I feel for Dragon Age 4 is immense, I can't fucking wait, man. I watched the Behind The Scenes video they put out with @sunshine-boii75 and we were going absolutely apeshit during it.

There's two characters we know about already and that's Davrin, a warden, and Bellara, who didn't give any hints as to what or who she is. We also get a glimpse of Dorian in the concept art with three characters under water finding treasure. Then we watched the trailer and, obviously, we see Solas and then Varric is the narrator, but I don't think he'll be in the actual game as anything other than the narrator. If he is in the game, he won't be companion again.

Now, I mentioned a concept art with Dorian and two other characters under water, yes? That implies there's going to be underwater sequences in DA4 and that is a thrilling idea. We've never been able to go far into water before, it always kills the player and takes them back to shore, but if that concept art is something they go through with in the game, we'll get to go into the water properly and that's honestly so exciting to think about. That means more monsters and maybe even a new race or two that we'll get to meet.

Dorian being in a concept art is interesting as well because that implies we might have a connection to the faction he and Maevaris put together in the magisterium. I don't think he's going to be a companion again, not after Inquisition, but I think he may be something similar to what Morrigan was in that he joins you only on very specific missions that need him.

We also get a glimpse at a rogue and a qunari in the trailer, though we don't know if they're companions or just npcs we'll meet. A part of me hopes they're companions because, from what we've seen in the trailer, one of them is a rogue who looks like they may be targeting a Magister while the qunari? Her bow looks like a staff and the string appears out of midair, it looks magical. Is it something similar to the prismatic greataxe you can get in inquisition? Or is it something new, something more exciting? I don't know, none of us do, but I'm looking forward to finding out.

We also watched an IGN video about the trailer (neither of us like it much tbh, this is the only thing we actually latched onto from it) and he brought up an interesting idea. While talking about the Qunari in the trailer, he points out her bow and also comments on how it looked/worked like I did up above, and suggests something interesting. What if we get a new class? Or the existing classes begin to get magical aspects to them if that's the route you go with the class? The veil weakened magic when Solas put it up, so it'd make sense if the Breach caused magic to show itself a little more, the veil isn't totally stable anymore, so it'd make sense for magic to become more prominent. So a new class with magic mixed with the other classes or new specializations for the existing classes would be exciting.

Koby and I also talked about possible characters we could come across that we've already met and there's two that we both got very excited about. We know Fenris has gone to Tevinter and we know the game takes place in Tevinter, so? What if he's there? What if the player character gets to meet him and he's a character similar to Morrigan (like I theorized with Dorian) where he helps during specific quests?

We also talked about Zevran. The Inquisitor in DAI ends up helping Zevran flee from the Crows If you accept his help on the war table and what's a better place to hide him than in Tevinter? The Crows are an Antivan organization and while, yes, they travel to other places, would they really go to Tevinter just to hunt down Zevran? They might, they hunted down the Warden in Origins in an attempt to hire them as well as tried to kill Zevran in Origins if you recruit him. They also might not risk going to Tevinter, it's a place not many like to go after all.

But then I remembered something. We see a character with a crow mask and crows flying around them (I can't remember if it was in the BTS or the Trailer) and that got us thinking. A Crow companion? So, if there's a Antivan Crow companion, could the Crows be hunting down Zevran? Who's to say.

We also get to see Solas, as I've stated already, which has me excited. I'm kind of hoping the Inquisitor returns in 4, kinda like what Hawke did in Inquisition, when we confront Solas. They deserve to be there, they trusted Solas with everything (even their heart if you romanced him), and he leaves them, only for them to find out he's a Dalish 'god' that is planning on tearing their world apart. If anyone deserves to be there for the confrontation with him, it's the Inquisitor 100%.

I have more thoughts about the game, but I'll probably talk about that later. I'm replaying DAI and I wanna finish Trespasser.

Anyways, I can't wait to play Dragon Age 4 when it comes out and don't think I won't liveblog my playthrough once it does.

Don't worry, I'll tag it as spoilers, too, so no one has to see it until they're ready.