#fatewoven

[theredconqueror]

Wine pours without a drop spilled into the awaiting glass. Lucanis inhales the aroma, the liquid swirled gently, before tasting it. A heady flavor of summers long past, and he offers the same glass to the mage, lips stained dark from the vintage. "Try it." (@fatewoven)

He's never spent so much time in the kitchen in a consecutive period of time as he has now with Lucanis. The kitchen was a place for servants, unbecoming for a magister's son to concern himself with such unimportant skills, when there would always be another, lesser to do it for him. It doesn't matter what happens in the kitchen. (Except for when a petty hand changes fate, black bitterness hiding intent.) He watches, the majority of the time, rather than participating. Not due to a lack of wishing to help, but seeing that Lucanis takes pride in doing it. He leans idly against the countertop, trying not to smile too much. That gets harder, with each passing day. The glass is offered to him, a dark ocean cradled within, but it is not the one he prefers to drown in. Instead, he leans forward, until his mouth reaches the shore of the other's lips, a sailor coming home. He savours the remnants of the summer waves, the heat of the daytime sun and evening temptations. He pulls back, replacing the absence of touch with his hand on the other's jaw. "You're right, it's one that I could drink a whole bottle of," he whispers wickedly, their mouths still close enough for a second taste.

[mocksfate]

@fatewoven asked: ✎ jo and emm? :* / drawing your/our muses.

the necromancer (emmrich) and the cooler necromancer (johanna)

[arcanederangement]

26 Alessio?

↳ codex entries: a letter to rook from a family member or close friend - alessio

idiot,

teia said you have been asking about antivan names and that you were planning to change yours with your graduation from fledgling to crow.

you should know by now that our names are not like the qunari names, they are not titles and there are not so many restrictions.

she has also said you want it to be reflective of you. in this, i feel 'idiot' works perfectly well. if it must be antivan you could also try idiota or tonto or stolto.

teia has seen this and has demanded i take it seriously. i have told her i take everything seriously but she has impressed upon me that this is not a matter to be taken lightly.

i am aware.

joining house de riva is a great responsibility and every day i question my decision to take you in. because you are argumentative and stubborn in all things. [in teia's handwriting] just like vi!

though the qun is behind you, i recognise the significance of your new name, how it must match your new self and new role as a crow.

we have come up with some suggestions:

dante - 'enduring' - for all i must endure you. [in teia's handwriting] for all you have endured to get to this point.

marco/marcello - 'warlike/warrior' - for you are combative by nature

alessandro/alessio - 'defender' - teia's suggestion that you might defend rather than attack is at odds with all i know of you. she insisted i add it.

leandro/leone - 'lion man' - to counter those who would call you bull.

arturo - 'bear' - see above.

armando

fiero - 'proud' - you have achieved little so far, but there is always time to grow into a name, perhaps it will remind you not to fail.

whatever name you choose, get it to us before the graduation ceremony. it would be shameful to have forgotten to name yourself and you might yet have to undergo another year of training.

do not make me, yourself or our house look foolish.

viago de riva. fifth talon.

[in teia's handwriting] p.s. we hope you are recovering well from the surgery. vi worries.

[veilstr1der]

the pair crouched low behind a jagged outcropping of rock, overlooking a secluded venatori sanctum nestled in the dense wilds of arlathan forest. they'd stumbled upon the ambush by sheer dumb luck, taking an alternative route than they usually did to return to the veil jumpers camp.

❝   i am, uh, usually not this lucky.   ❞

rook stifled a snort behind a clenched fist, least he giveaway their position, ❝ well, don't jinx it now! ❞ he whispered once he'd composed himself. he swept the area, reaching out with his magic to feel for trap or alarm wards, his magic brushed against something, but it didn't feel hostile or dangerous. a silent spectator just beyond the veil.

❝ what're you thinking? we could double back and avoid them altogether. ❞ rook proposed, though he would rather not leave a camp of venatori settled in the forest for some other unsuspecting veil jumper to stumble across. // @fatewoven ; lucanis , dragon age : absolution sentence starters .

[lcgacyofages]

@fatewoven sent: ❛ i haven’t laughed like this in a long time. ❜ / from lucanis to ogden! from &. 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

Ogden couldn't help the warm smile which came across his face at the sound of Lucanis's laughter. Green eyes glimmered with mirth, glad to hear the assassin laugh. Lucanis had had many heavy hands given to him, so to hear him laugh...

It was a good thing.

"I'm glad my tale of my youthful hijinks gave you some amusement," he teased. "Although, the templars at the Circle weren't too happy about my little prank, to say the least."

It was good to have some quiet, a moment of reprieve from everything. It gave them, the team, a chance to get to know each other. And oftentimes, when people got to know each other, they started to work better together as well. And Ogden knew he needed to have that sort of synchronization for this job.

He tilted his head in thought, looking at Lucanis over the glass in his hand.

"You have a nice laugh; I'd like to hear it more."

[orxna]

" that's a lot of blood. " / from fen!

Blood Prompts || Accepting || @fatewoven

There is, in fact, a rather substantial amount of blood in the kitchen, mostly within the heavy washing basin but some splattered on the floor and more flowing from it's source. Orana stands, her expression almost offended as she holds a rag in her left hand, soaking up the annoying substance as she glares at a bloody knife upon the floor. Suds and water pool on the ground less offensively but still too messy for Orana's taste.

"It was stupid," She huffs, finally moving again to carefully lift the bloodied kitchen knife with her free hand and place it on the counter next to the washing tub, "Who puts knives in the washing tub. Papa would never allow that in his kitchen."

[scvcnofswords]

∗ 59﹕ sender  prevents  an  injured  receiver  from  getting  up . || emm to harrow! || @fatewoven

They try.

They'd taken archdemon teeth to the hip and thigh- had dragged themselves out of Weisshaupt after the others, shoving everyone else through the Eluvian first- companions, wardens, griffon, and then Rook. It's the way of things. Varric had told them to take care of the team, and that was what Harrow would do. To the end of it.

But now, laying in the infirmary, there's a restlessness in them, an anxiety. Their gaze keeps drifting over the room- skipping over the other beds, locking on the doors.

"You know, I'm really probably fine-" Harrow says then, trying to push themselves up despite the way it makes fire race beneath their skin and brings genuine fucking tears to blight-dyed eyes. Once seated, they exhale a shaking breath, before attempting to turn to put their feet on the floor. They're in nothing but their smalls and a ridiculously long shirt, at this point, the stitched-wounds livid on pale, tattooed skin, blood still staining along their thigh and calf.

"I really just wanna get some sleep, in my- lounge-bed thing. And it's not like I can get double-blighted, I'm pretty sure-" but there's immediately a hand on their shoulder, gentle, but firm enough to pin them in place on the cot. Miserably, they twist their head to stare up at Emmrich-

but the expression on that regal face has them cringing in shame, and they rattle an exhale before sliding back into place on that damned cot, and laying back down. "Fuck. I hate it in here. I want that known," the Warden mutters, raising a hand and laying it over their own face, pressing their lips together.

Weisshaupt has fallen. The majority of their order is dead. Lost to a tyrant who sees herself a god and her archdemon pet, lost because Harrow wasn't- strong enough. Quick enough. Convincing enough. Able to lead the team well enough.

It hurts so much more than the wounds do. And they can't fall apart here. Can't shatter, can't break. Not even a little bit.

"Seriously, Emmrich," please ignore how tight their voice is, how it shakes. "I'm okay. I just wanna not be here. 'S'cold."

[venombloom]

❝ it’s just…this place isn’t what i remember. ❞   / luc!

@fatewoven

Opulence is in a way something she's gotten use to. Well to a certain degree at least. Villa de Riva is grand in it's own way. But Villa Dellamorte? Oh, does it outdo de Riva. Quite frankly, it makes her afraid to breath each step they take, afraid she's going taint or break something with just her presence. Even still her curiosity continues to mount and golden eyes wander over every detail they can. Until Lucanis speaks that is.

"How so?" Daisy asks softly. Her gaze turns from one of the many exquisitely painted portraits to look at him. Expression stays trained while assessing his own; no cold indifference present however. "Is because you've been away for so long?" Carefully one step then two is taken towards her fellow Crow. "Or because you've changed?"

To a certain extent there's the capability to empathize. Though never can she fully understand the extent of his emotions.

A hand reaches out, as if to be placed upon his arm or shoulder in comfort. Yet instead she withdraws it, not wanting to overstep bounds; though still her fingers brush against him.

[winterfromtevinter]

stop smiling at me like that. / from femme fatale

╰ ⋄⋆⋅✧ ⸻ ⧽ @fatewoven inquired | 𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

She tries her best to quell the incriminating expression. Truly, she does. The corners of her mouth straighten for a moment, curve downward into a rather false frown, before she can no longer help herself. The smile dimples her face again, wide enough to thin her lips.

Oh well, the jig is up. "Smiling like what?" her voice high and tight with suppressed laughter. She can cheat at cards just fine, lie in the face of a dozen people in a row to keep them off her tail. But there's something disarming about being here, amongst allies who are all quickly becoming friends. Lucanis, who is becoming...something, to her. She isn't sure of the shape of it yet, so for now she enjoys any company he'll spare her.

Generously, she'll allow herself to enjoy the furrow between his brows and his clever eyes studying her. A guilty pleasure to make the day a little sweeter.

"You really should blame Andy. It was her idea," she caves. It's too funny not to. "You'll see, it's nothing bad. Just...a new friend that has been relocated."

[blightworn]

do you ever feel at times as if you were not a person? / from emm :>

do you ever feel as if you aren't a pain in my ass? he makes an uninterested noise and looks emmrich over. ' perhaps i'm more than one, ' he suggests with a smirk.

[abanbas]

@fatewoven asked: well , that doesn't sound like a good thing . / emmrich!

↪ 𝑽𝑨𝑵 𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮 .(a collection of sentence starters fromthe 2004 film . adjust phrasing as necessary . mature themes present . )

Sire gave the older man a pout. " It doesn't?" The mage narrowed before putting the magical construct down then laying their head on the man's desk, if Sire's ears were any longer they'd be folded back like a displeased cat.

"Then show me how to do it, Emmrich!" He groaned, pushing it towards him. " I learn better from watching anyways.." This was true, Sire wasn't much good when getting told instructions but If one let him watch, even just for a moment, he seemed to understand most things. It was just how his brain functioned. "Or should I say, teach me, Professor. You're the scholar here, I'm what your country calls a hedge mage, I have no formal schooling of my crafts at all." At that thought, Sire smiles greatly. " And I'm better than half of Tevinter but, I can always learn more, wouldn't you agree?"

[mvrcar]

@fatewoven liked this for a starter!

The pantry smells like dust and well stored food, even from the other side of the door he can detect that. The faint scent of coffee feels new after so long without. It gives away Lucanis’ presence before anything else does. Rook knows he’s in there, naturally. He has made his presence known hours earlier, at the roundtable they held, practicality clear in his gaze, as was the betrayal. It hadn’t mattered: Felix had held his gaze, and he would again. Nevertheless, the accusation lay in his brown irises. He had traded his city’s safety for his own. An impossible choice, and yet, it had been his call.

So now he finds himself on the doorway, his hand raised, knuckles ready to tap against the wood. He suspects Lucanis knows he’s outside. Maybe Spite sensed him, or maybe his assassin skills are just that good. After all, even amongst Shadow Dragon rogues the Demon of Vyrantium is well renown.

Felix doesn’t fear him, though. Not that he could ever harm any of them, but it’s more than that: hate he can handle. Disgust, even. He considers Lucanis a friend, but maybe the man’s opinion of him has been turned to ashes like most of Treviso.

Oh, well. Only one way to find out. And he has postponed the long overdue conversation enough already. So he knocks, and waits.

“Lucanis? Can I come in?”

[lcgacyofages]

16 for fun~

Rook Codex Writing Prompts - Letter from Rook to their love interest

A letter lay on the table in Ogden's quarters, deliberately placed where it could be seen from the door. As if he had been preparing for the worst. Which, as a warden, was no surprise. They were always prepared for tomorrow not to come, after all.

The handwriting, while similar to his, was more deliberate, slower than his typical scratching of notes for himself. The care was put into this letter, waiting to be opened. Cold, stark black letters lay in contrast against the warm, brighter color of the paper.

Lucanis

The folds were gentle, delicately done, as if the piece of paper were some holy script waiting to be discovered. The invitation to gently open those folds was thick in the air, especially after the recent events.

You didn't let me tell you this, not in person. But I couldn't let it stay unsaid, especially if something were to go wrong. You need to know the depths of what I feel for you and what you are to me. I heard you tell Emmrich you weren't sure what I see in you. Would you like to know? I see a man who smiles softly when he thinks no one would notice. A man who cares deeply for others and what their needs are. A man who fears showing too much of this, but still braves showing a bit of his heart, even if merely in cooking for others. I see a man raised in a world bent on breaking him, shaping him into what they want. But parts of him refusing to allow that to happen. Who still enjoys his cups of coffee and his peaceful moments in the evening. A man who, when push comes to shove, will put his foot down and find a way out of a situation, even if he isn't sure he can believe in himself to do so. I believe he can. This is the man I see. This is the man I love with every piece of my being. Yes, I love you. I've loved you a while. Not quite sure when it started but it felt gradual and natural to fall in love with you. You fit together with me like a piece of soul was missing and I found it in you. If I'm gone, don't weep for me much. My end was coming one way or another, either by the gods or from the Calling. I want you to live, Lucanis. I want you to find what you want in your life and seize it with both hands and never let go. No matter what anyone else wants of you. You deserve to create your own happiness. Forever Yours Ogden

[arcanederangement]

17 for Miina!

↳ codex entries: 17. Rook’s notes on the Lighthouse/Caretaker

as a non-mage, the lighthouse is strange. bellara says it's safe enough and that we're protected from most of the bad things the fade can throw at us here. i trust that, we'd probably have been swarmed by demons now if it wasn't true, right?

everyone is settling in, it seems to unlock new rooms for each new member of the team. would it do that forever? did everyone in solas' rebellion have a room here? it doesn't seem like there's enough space but i don't know enough about the fade to question it.

it's nice to see everyone's personality reflected in their rooms. i should get them things they'd like for decorating purposes!

is it strange that mine doesn't do that? i guess the fish are nice. but i'd like something other than the colour blue, you know?

but i've never needed much, it's just as good a place to sleep as anywhere, and warmer than weisshaupt! more comfortable too.

it's also nice to have friendly spirits around. the caretaker is very helpful, especially when it comes to improving our armoury.

it's interesting how he collects the things i find lying around on missions. how does he decide what's important? what he wants to keep? i should ask. i think i'll go do that. and then go shopping. i should see if bellara wants to come.

[scvcnofswords]

does your muse value their legacy ? what have they done to ensure it ? / litriu! || @fatewoven

Spent about five minutes SOBBING with laughter about this ask but here we go.

Litriu would love to die in forgotten obscurity. She would HAPPILY be forgotten by the world, except for those she traveled with DURING the Fifth Blight or those who have managed to earn her regard or trust since. Every time her accolades are brought up, or someone tries to bring up how she saved their life, she will try to make a break for the nearest exit.

It's genuine discomfort- she doesn't like extra acknowledgement of things she's done, whether they be heroic or not. She saved your life once? Thank her and leave it there. She saved your village? Thank her and leave it there. She hates the way it brings attention to her, she hates feeling peoples' eyes on her, she hates how her name has made her some myth. It feels- fake, it feels like chains, it feels like a steel trap and she cannot chew the leg off to escape; because she also can't stop. She can't stop involving herself when the world needs help, she can't turn away when people and animals need protection from the darkness.

Genuinely the fastest way to make her shut down is to bring up her legacy, because it scares the shit out of her. She just wants to exist. That's all.

She'd gladly pin all of the heroics on @vowspurned - partially because 'better him than me' but also, without Alistair, she absolutely would not have been able to accomplish any of it, in her own words and mind. He was what she resolved to protect, after Ostagar- her brother in all but blood. If asked, she'd swear that without Alistair, she would have fallen long before Denerim- because he was the resolve that kept her moving no matter how badly she bled or broke. She'd also gladly blame the other companions for her being a hero- Zevran needed help from the crows, sure, but he was constantly trying to speak up for the common folk. Leliana was also always there for the small people. Morrigan is what allowed her and Al to survive- on and on. It's genuinely not faux-humility, it's just... She's uncomfortable, and she did what she did because it needed done; and she had people (and beasts) to protect.

Again, I cannot emphasize this enough. It is not faux-humility, she genuinely gets skittish and uneasy when people bring up the legacy she's leaving. She would be so much happier fading into forgotten obscurity.

[venombloom]

[ hair ]  –  for the sender to brush a strand of hair out of the receiver’s face.

@fatewoven

Over and over she tells herself she's fine. She has to be. There is no choice about it. At least that's what she tries to put on repeat in her mind as she watches swirls of smoke curl towards the ceiling of the meditation chamber.

Normally when indulging in such a vice she'd do it outside. But currently she just needs to be out of sight of the others. There are no words to describe how thankful and relieved she was to see them all. Overjoyed. A few tears had threaten to fall as she embraced each one.

That was the thing; she was able to hold everything back in that moment and as she went around to each of them individually to check in. Now though, she's not sure she can keep the dam of emotions intact.

With perfect clarity in her mind's eye, she can still picture every detail of the prison she's been trapped in for almost a month.

The brutalized mirror images of her companions (sometimes in the throes of death, sometimes merely staring her down; once or twice their bodies and others mutilated and twisted into blighted abominations), the venomous ire that slips from their lips (rightly so she had thought). Slogging through a river of regrets, hands grabbing for her at every turn. Mutated monsters, seas of blood and ruined landscapes. The haunting cries of children, of babies.

So with a shaking hand she takes drags off the herbal cigarette, filling her lungs with dried elf root, mint and chamomile while reclining on the chaise. Whether it helps or not is debatable.

When the door opens Daisy shoots up, head whipping around to see who it is. Lucanis. The burning herbs are extinguished in a ceramic tray on the cabinet behind the lounge. She doesn't even have time to get up and meet him where he stands nor to fully compose herself.

He kneels down infront of her, looking up with the softest, most tender expression she thinks she's ever seen grace his beautiful face. For some reason that's the nail in the coffin. It starts as a sniffle that hastily mutates into full sobbing. Tears streaming down her cheeks like a rapid current. Her arms are thrown around him in a tight hug, face buried in his neck and fingers digging into his back. For what feels like eternity all she can do is cry even surrounded by the warmth of his strong hold and the familiar scent he carries.

"How do I know if this is real? That you're you and here?" Comes her warbled question as she finally pulls back. There's no care to how awful she probably looks. Face flushed, eyes bloodshot, hair disheveled. He reaches up to tuck back several locks of wild red locks with the utmost delicacy. Daisy grabs his hand to press his palm to a tear streaked cheek, nuzzling against it. "Please." But she's not sure what she's asking for. Please don't be an illusion. Please don't leave me.