#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)

[arcanederangementa]

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 .

[scvcnofswords]

Regin, rumour has it you would sacrifice the world for love...

A long, deep sigh, and she stares a moment, before raising a hand to her temple, putting pressure to it.

"I wouldn't sacrifice the world for love in the way that the world would burn or suffer. But I've given- everything of myself to Thedas. I would- walk away from it, for love. I'd choose my own happiness, for once. If I could. I've given up my life, my identity, my body, and my faith for the world. So if I finally do make one selfish choice and you see that as me sacrificing the world- I suppose I will have to bear that. There are... Other people, who can take up what I've done and what I've been to Thedas. Regin Lavellan barely exists anymore- but Inquisitor Lavellan still does, even with the Inquisition disbanded. I do not wish to wait and watch the world erase everything of me the way it did Ameridan. If that is a terrible thing, so be it."

Who even is she, anymore? Clan Lavellan is dead, she is no longer a First- barely Dalish, with her vallaslin gone, with her faith shattered, with no clan or people to return to. She has hunted alone now for over a decade, in truth. She has not been free to chase or study storms in half that- has not been free to do anything since stepping out of the Breach. Has not been ruin-delving or exploring since the escape of the Evanuris- and not for fun since before Corypheus' end. She reaches down to stroke the top of the head of the wolfhound at her side, eyes closing, as he whines at the turmoil he senses in her.

"It's more accurate to say I'd sacrifice myself for love."

[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."

[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."

[fadewalking]

A box of colourful tiles is presented with a flourish, each one painted boldly and varying between numbers, scenery, and animals. Eager, excited, Emmrich begins preparing the board for the game. "Have you ever played this before, Solas? Quite the invigorating pastime when it comes to strategy and luck. Sparrow cards. A visiting scholar taught it to me years ago, and I thought you might enjoy it as well on this day." Manfred hisses from nearby, equally keen. / Solas gets to play mahjong for his bday, world peace achieved?

It's Solas' Name Day (kinda) // @fatewoven

"Indeed I have, professor." Solas sat across from him with his fingers steepled in calm, understated anticipation. It had been some time since he had been invited to a game, one he allowed himself to actually sit for, no less.

"I have seen it played before in the F—" he caught himself. Old habits. No longer had he use for the pretense he had so deeply ingrained in himself. At least not in present company. Everything was already on the table, to keep the metaphor apt.

The realization came to him as a relief, and uncoiled a tension he hadn't known he'd been holding. What would it even mean to just... exist? To no longer keep hidden the wolf beneath a sheep's guise? Such weighty thoughts always seemed to bide their time for the most mundane moments. He blinked to scatter them.

"Well.. I have lived long enough to become well accustomed to most games of strategy and luck. Though I remain partial to those that lean toward the former."

Solas eyed Manfred. He had a great many thoughts on the peculiar creature. Most of them positive. It was difficult feel otherwise toward such an impressive spirit, even if the art of necromancy had never been his favorite form.

"You have taught Curiosity to play?"

[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?"

[archonoclasm]

@fatewoven asked: ❛ a fantasy in real life is also known as a lie . ❜ (from luc! -nibbles into your inbox like it's cheese and im a lil rat-) / 𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑺 𝑽𝑶𝑳. 𝑰: still accepting.

Magister Pavus' eyes -- shrewd, sharp, a pinch too much like steel, truthfully -- wink in a way that must've once scared his mother.

"We've elven gods to contend with," he reminds casually, "your playing house in the Fade, and the threat of the end of the world right on our doorstep. Were dreams to come true, I could imagine no better time for it. Silver bells. White dresses. The world's your oyster."

Ah, this man! He's a bit like the crack of a whip, isn't he, and charming, of course, for whenever is he not? Smiling, the clever creature angles back, a hot decadent cup of coffee wafting beside his chessboard. From there, its fragrance lumbers deeply acerbic and sumptuous and poured from a cezve. It's despairing, he knows, this horrible little world they've found themselves in, but imagine if he began mumbling and sulking ? He'd never stand the tears. They'll show on his outfit. Anyway! "You crows are always so suspicious."

[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]

@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."

[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.

[arcanederangementa]

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.

[veilstr1der]

what is your muse's most treasured family tradition ?

zodiac headcanon prompt .

jasmine flowers on the windowsil. jASMINE FLOWERS ON THE WINDOWSIL!! it's a crime that he remembers so little of his mother, but he remembers the vase of jasmine flowers in the window haloed by sunlight as his mother hums. he and his father went without a vase of jasmine for several years after she died. not on purpose of course, it was just one of those things that went missing when she was gone. feynirin picked and vased them on a whim one afternoon. he remembers the look on his fathers face when he saw them. surprised, bittersweet, sad. they didn't go without them again.

feynirin tried to keep a pot of jasmine at the tower but it never felt right. then he was on the road, or sleeping between camps in arlathan or with varric he had nowhere to keep them. he finds jasmine growing in harding's garden one day and while he can't quite bring himself to take any for the meditation room ( it's not his room ), he does help harding tend to them.

he has treasured traditions from his father too, though they were always more functional or simple, like doing chores together. it was never "i'll/you'll make dinner" or "i'll/you'll do the dishes" it was always, "lets make dinner" "lets do the dishes". they would celebrate name days, go camping on his mothers death day, his father crafted him an amulet when he passed his rites ( three rites into adolescence, a latharla clan tradition )