#he has taash and emmrich and davrin left now

[brainisafk]

I'm not sure if he really needs to finish everyone's personal stuff before moving on with the main story, but I also don't want to take any chances so he's working his way through. >.>

Bellara baby. <3

He did go see Kierith again though Idk how I feel about how much this looks like a romantic dinner date. XD

Half the team I think has their Veilguard skills unlocked now boo yea. \o/

[deputyrook]

In Her Absence: Lucanis/Rook/Spite.

A03 link! Female Crow Rook x Lucanis. Lucanis POV.

Takes place when Rook is in the fade prison, because 1) I love angst and am a big softie; and 2) I wanted to try to work out the logistics of what the team did in Rook's absence, and how they managed to reach her.

---

In the four days that Rook’s been gone, the Veilguard has devolved completely into infighting.

Taash wants to know why they can’t just “break into the fade and pull her out.” And no one really wants to hear Emmrich’s overly technical explanation as to why that’s not feasible, least of all Taash, who’s grieving and angry. Davrin keeps saying that it should have been him instead, which isn’t helping, and no one even wants to think about what’s happening to Bellara right now. 

Harding is dead. Bellara is kidnapped by Elgar’nan and Maker knows where. They’re a mess as a group, angry and hurting. And Rook...

Rook’s gone.

Neve is the only person who remotely has their shit still together, and for that at least, Lucanis is thankful. 

Because he absolutely does not have his shit together. Maybe the others can’t tell, since he’s not arguing or yelling or breaking down, but his thoughts are spiralling so badly that he’s barely said a word in three days. All he can think about is Rook.

He loves her. He loves her. And she’s lost somewhere, trapped and alone, and they have no plan whatsoever on how they’re going to get her back. 

He never told her. It’s tearing him up inside. The thought that he might never hear her voice again. Never hear her make some stupid pun, or hear her teasing, or hear her give them all one of her legendary pep talks. Never hear her laugh again-

“Lucanis,” Neve’s voice is firm, dragging him out of his despondency, “You need to focus.” 

How can he possibly focus? “You’re right,” he says instead, voice tight, because Neve is right. Standing around brooding isn’t getting them any closer to getting Rook back. What he needs to do is act- but how?

Solas is a God, and even he couldn’t break out of that prison. This isn’t the kind of problem Lucanis can solve with a dagger. He can’t stab at the prison walls until they crumble away- but Maker knows if that could work, he would stab until his daggers shattered and his body collapsed. 

What is he supposed to do? What can he do? How can he help them, when all he knows how to do is kill things?

No. Spite says to his left, his voice hard and determined, No! We will find Rook. Won’t leave them there. 

Neve puts a hand on his shoulder, and gives it a squeeze. 

“When has Rook ever been content to sit and wait to be rescued?” Neve says, and he lets out a long, even exhale, because it’s exactly what he needs to hear. “I’m worried too. But Rook would chew off her own leg to escape a trap. If there’s a way to get out, she’ll find it. Have some faith in her. In all of us- and in yourself.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice quiet. After a moment, he adds, “…Someone should let Viago and Teia know.”

That, at least, is a burden he can bear. 

But the days stretch into weeks. Elgar’nan seizes control of an already broken Minrathous, and even Neve has a hard time keeping herself together after that one. 

Lucanis is in no place to offer comfort. Without Rook’s leadership and steadfast optimism, the lighthouse has gone dark, leaving them all ships to smash into a rocky coast. He won’t soon forget the way Viago’s eyes widened when he told him what had happened to Rook, nor the look of horror that flashed across his face before his expression settled into stony devastation. 

Strangely, it’s Spite that keeps him from falling apart completely. He refuses to accept that Rook is gone. Every time that Lucanis’ mind whispers to him that this happened because he wasn’t good enough, and that he’ll never see Rook smile at him again- Spite cuts him off with an angry, defiant hiss of NO. 

Rook is strong. Rook is smart! Rook will not allow herself to die in a prison. She would not let you die in prison, either. We will not let her. We will find her. We will find her!

He repeats the words in his own head, holding onto them like a buoy. Right, yeah. She’s good at prison breaks. It’s enough to make it through the day.

Sometimes- although Lucanis would never admit it to the others- he realizes that Spite is the one who has been moving his body,  keeping him working while he’s been stuck in his mind, ruminating and aching with missing her. It’s been Spite that’s forcing him to eat, to bathe, to sleep. Spite is keeping him alive. 

Will not let you do this to us. Rook needs us.

It’s that thought that ultimately gets Lucanis to snap out of his despair. 

It’s not over yet. He agrees, finally. Rook needs us. 

Finally! Spite snaps back.

---

First, they try to make a copy of the dagger. Something that will be able to slice through the fade prison, so that they can cut Rook out of it. That’s how Solas left, after all- by tricking her, and stealing the dagger to cut himself free. 

But a dagger of pure lyrium isn’t exactly easy to replicate. Brilliant as they are, Emmrich and Neve can only do so much. So after days of meticulous work, they end up with a dagger that looks identical to the real thing, but doesn’t actually work. Great.

Next, Emmrich hypothesizes that in order to get to Rook in the fade, they’ll not only need to figure out how to access the fade prison, but also to figure out where the prison actually is, physically within the fade.

It is, apparently, not as simple as yelling out “ROOK? CAN YOU HEAR US?” from the top of the Lighthouse, which has been Taash’s strategy. Spite, too, is ready to start just travelling through the fade, for as long and as far as he needs to until he finds her. Lucanis is doing what he can to support the group, cooking the meals and making sure Emmrich and Neve are able to stay on their feet.

Word gets to them that Solas is in Minrathous, keeping the rebellion alive. The news poisons Lucanis so thoroughly with hate that he nearly can’t stomach it. Spite has been so determined to save Rook that Lucanis almost forgot how it felt when he was really, truly spiteful. 

Hearing Solas is pretending to be a hero in Tevinter, after consigning Rook to take his place in a prison? Yeah. That’ll do it. The things he’d wanted to do to Illario after his betrayal had left him conflicted. He is not remotely conflicted about what he wants to do about Solas.

What they want to do. Spite agrees with him on this one. He hurt our Rook.

Finally, Emmrich and Neve work out a real plan, with the help of the Veil Jumpers. It’s based largely on luck, but it’s something. It’s a sliver of hope. It’s enough to keep them all going.

First, they need to find a spot where the veil is particularly thin, where the fade peaks through the seams of reality. Then, they need to use an artifact of the Veil Jumper’s to do… magical, fade, location-y… stuff. Emmrich actually uses a bit of Rook’s blood for this part, located on some stained clothes that Assan had dug out in her room. 

Blood magic. Ordinarily, Lucanis would be opposed. But no one says a word against it. They are all desperate for this to work. 

The first day they try it, it doesn’t work. They make some adjustments, and try again.

The second day, it doesn’t work. They make some more adjustments, and they try again.

On the fifth day, Spite says it in his ear, voice sharp with excitement.

I can smell her- I can smell Rook!

Lucanis’ heart feels like it’s about to burst from his chest. He’s yelling, “Rook?” into the rift before he can stop himself, but the team’s caught on already that this isn't like the other times they’ve failed to make their plan work. The rift is spitting and spasming sparks of magic, and they can see through it in a way they’d never been able to before. They can see a light in the rift.

Emmrich seems to throw caution entirely to the wind, rolling up his sleeve and plunging his arm into the rift. The energy is wild, unrestrained, and they’re all calling out to Rook, reaching and trying to get to her.

“I’ve- I’ve got her!” Emmrich yells out, and Lucanis swears he can see Rook’s wavy form on the other side of the rift. Like looking through a fishbowl, or the walls of the Ossuary.

He reaches in too and grabs her hand with Emmrich, and they yank. Rook stumbles out, collapsing onto the ground.

“Varric’s dead,” she says, voice hollow and wobbly.

Neve shoots Lucanis a confused, concerned look, but he’s too relieved to care. He’s grabbing at her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace, and his throat feels like it’s closing up on him. Tears prick at his vision. She’s safe. She’s alive, she’s free, and she’s safe. She’s back with them.

They all want to hug her, and make sure she’s actually, really okay. But Lucanis gets to first.

Told you. Told you, told you! Spite repeats, ecstatic, She’s back!

“Are you okay?” He murmurs, pulling back and looking her over critically, trying to see if she’s been hurt or if anything has changed. But no. It’s just her. Like not a day has passed.

Rook nods slowly, and Lucanis smooths a hand down her hair, before cupping her cheek in his hand. All he wants to do is hold her, but he can’t be that selfish and drag her away from the others. Not yet, anyway. 

Pulling back, the others take the moment to rush in, making similar careful assessments and doting over Rook. The last few weeks have been almost unbearably difficult. There’s been little to celebrate. But this is joy again. Hope. With Rook back, not everything is completely fucked.

Davrin pulls her into a crushing hug, and Taash joins in, and they’re all hugging and crying a little. The trip back to the Lighthouse is a blur, with Rook thanking the Veil Jumpers and swearing to them she’ll get Bellara back.

How she can already be so determined, so ready to act, Lucanis will never know. He is, as he has so often found himself, in awe of her ability to forge forward, the light cutting through the swathes of dark that seem to surround them.

Spite is just about ready to try to crawl out of their skin in impatience, but they have work to do first. They all brief Rook on what has happened in her absence, and learn- horrifically- that she’s somehow been brainwashed into believing Varric has been alive, for months, by Solas.

Not for the first time, Lucanis feels anger and spite bubbling in his veins and vows to himself that he will not let Solas get away with hurting Rook. God or not. He finds it hard to fathom why he would mess with her head like that, if he wanted her to succeed in at least stopping Ghilan’nain. It reminds him too much of the mind games that his captors would play on him when he was in the Ossuary, tormenting and confusing him for no other reason than to break him down. Was that what Solas had tried to do to Rook, too? To break her down mentally, so she’d be easier to manipulate and trick?

It seems to take forever, but finally, Lucanis gets to see her alone. She’s lying down when he enters her quarters, her eyes closed, but the words spill out of him before he can even consider leaving her to rest.

“I cannot believe we found you,” he says, voice soft. All of the fear he’s felt for weeks, the doubt and the despair that Spite had helped him just barely keep at bay… the relief, now, is making him lightheaded. 

“I’m a little surprised too, honestly.” It’s a testament to the gravity of the situation that she’s not trying to make light of things. The words aren’t meant as a joke. 

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he admits.

“And I didn’t think I’d ever get out of there,” Rook tells him in turn. It leaves him cold, to think of her there, alone and believing she might never be found. “How do I know if I really did? This could be... more of the fade.”

Lucanis realizes then, that he’s never seen her vulnerable like this before. Emotional, yes, but lost? Frightened? Rook has always been the solid centre of the group. Unmoving, unyielding, steady. Utterly dependable. 

It’s almost surprising that she’s not actually invincible. She’s so consistently been their guiding light. But more than shock, more than anything else-

He wants to protect her. He wants to hold her until her worries melt away, to chase away the horrible memories of the last several weeks and see her smile at him. He wants her to know that he won’t let anything hurt her. He wants to kiss her until she feels safe and warm again. 

So he does. Kneeling down in front of her, holding her hands in his own, Lucanis reassures her she is real. There’s so much he wants to tell her, that he’s been praying he’ll get the chance to say. But now that Rook’s in front of him again, he can’t seem to find the words for everything he’s been feeling.

So he kisses her. So, so gently. And when he keeps kissing her, pressing her back against the chaise as she wraps her arms around his neck? It seems Spite is right there with him, because the wings unfurl right in that moment, curling around them both protectively, like he wants to help shield them from anyone in the world who might try to hurt them.

[mosoderbergh]

Have some more NSFW Emmrich

I just couldn’t keep my hands off of Emmrich’s breeding kink. Honestly? What a thought. So here’s my own little twist.

The first time, Rook very much accidentally triggers him. They’re still in their honeymoon phase, still at the lighthouse. Everyone sits at the kitchen table. Manfred’S latest shenanigans are discussed. Rook, not for the first time, calls him their “skeleton son”.

“Do you have any children, Emmrich?”, asks Davrin. “Other than Manfred, of course.”

“Ah.” It’s said with a smile, but there’s a buried sadness there. “I’m afraid it wasn’t to be, no.”

“Not yet, anyway”, Davrin chuckles.

There’s a flash of concern on Emmrich’s face. His eyes meet Rook’s, who has already come to suspect this is a sensitive subject. They swoop in to save him.

“Oh, he knows he’s welcome to try and get me pregnant whenever he wants”, they say, their voice dripping with innuendo. They take potions regularly to make sure it doesn’t happen, which Emmrich knows. Their intention is to gross the others out so much the subject gets dropped.

Lucanis chokes on his coffee. Taash boos. Davrin tells them to get a room. The conversation moves on. But Rook catches Emmrich’s glance, his face blank, eyes dark. As soon as the topic is well and truly forgotten he leans in, whispers: “A word, dearest”, his voice tense in a way that gives Rook anxiety. They excuse themselves from the table and Rook earnestly worries that they’ve offended him. They barely make it through the door to Emmrich’s library before he has Rook pinned against the nearest wall. Rook knows Emmrich as an attentive lover, giving to a fault. More often than not, Rook has to do a bit of sweet-talking before Emmrich lets his own pleasure be the focus, and wringing little sighs from him has become one of Rook’s favourite games. Right now, Emmrich is whimpering into Rook’s mouth, groping them with a neediness that renders him clumsy. Rook is more than willing to help. They are undressed within moments, and Emmrich in on them again immediately, taking just enough time to position them both against the desk for support.

It doesn’t take long before they are soaking wet, mainly because this new side of Emmrich turns them on so much they think they might just black out. Usually, Emmrich tends to lavish them with praise, and the way his voice falters in between declarations of affection when he’s losing control is the hottest thing Rook has ever heard - until tonight. Because right now, Emmrich, who usually doesn’t shut up right until the very end, is unmistakably too horny to form words. He enters them with a cry that is equal parts need and relief, as if every second leading up to their union had him in agony. Rook wraps themselves around him, cooing into his ear that yes, Maker, he feels good, this is so right, they want him so much. The one word that makes it over Emmrich’s lips is Rook’s name, uttered over and over, a moan, a whisper, a plea. Emmrich doesn’t last long, and he comes with a groan from so deep within his soul it seems entirely removed from his speaking voice.

Rook wraps their arms tight around Emmrich as he catches his breath against their neck. They can sense his mind kicking back into gear, ever overthinking.

“That”, they whisper into his ear before he can even begin to feel self-conscious about what just happened, “was amazing.”

Emmrich huffs a laugh that is muffled by Rook’s skin. He sounds incredulous. They untangle from each other, just enough for Emmrich to rest his forehead against Rook’s. His smile is somewhat sheepish, but his eyes glow with adoration.

“I truly wish I could explain”, he says.

“Oh, I think I got the gist of it”, Rook says with a grin.

The way he spoils Rook after feels almost like an apology. Rook wishes he left them with enough breath to say there’s nothing to be sorry for. Then again: They’ll have time enough to talk later.

[cybershock24601]

More Rook de Riva is Lucanis' annoying little sibling agenda but everyone's chilling in the kitchen waiting for diner and Lucanis goes to check something on the stove before coming back to the table. Lucanis takes one sip of his coffee, immediately spits it back out, and then shoots Rook the most annoyed look as he goes "Really?" Rook immediately starts cackling and goes "I just wanted to see if you'd notice!"

Neve asks, "oh, did you put salt in his coffee?" because that's a totally reasonable assumption to make and Lucanis replies with "Adder's Kiss actually" super casually as he gets up to dump out his coffee and make himself a new cup. Emmrich in a polite but clearly bewildered tone goes, "correct me if I am wrong, but that is a poison, yes?" With a casual shrug Rook says "yeah" and continues to sip their own drink like just admitting to putting poison in one of your friends drinks is a perfectly normal thing to do. And to Crows it is, not so much for everyone else.

Dead silence descends onto the room because why is Rook is poisoning people's drinks and why is Lucanis so casual about almost getting poisoned. Everyone's just looking back and forth between Rook and Lucanis until Taash finally breaks the quiet by saying what everyone else is thinking, "What the fuck?!"

The room then descends into chaos with Taash practically interrogating Rook because who slips poison in their friends drinks with Rook getting really defensive and going "Viago and I do this to each other all the time!" and Harding's going "What do you mean by that?!" because by now everyone knows Viago is practically Rook's older brother, what are they doing poisoning each other?? Bellara is very concerned and keeps asking Lucanis if he's okay and he's so confused because of course he is, its not like he hasn't developed an immunity to most poisons and besides Rook didn't even do much to try to disguise the taste so it's not like he actually drank any of it. Neve and Davrin are mostly just concerned because they didn't even see Rook move. Emmrich is the one who finally manages to calm things down because that man absolutely has a Teacher Voice to whip out whenever the team is getting too unruly.

The night ends with Rook and Lucanis agreeing not to start poisoning each other's drinks in the Crow equivalent of an escalating prank war because of the risk of people not immune to poison accidentally consuming it because it's not like everyone else can detect the subtle notes of poison and Lucanis and Rook thinking everyone is just being super weird and overreacting to this because this is just normal Crow behavior (in all honestly it probably isn't, it's just these two were raised by freaks named Caterina Dellamorte and Viago de Riva who needed to make sure they knew how to handle their poisons).

The rest of the team is left thinking that actually this is starting to explain a whole lot about what the fuck is Wrong with those two. I'm sure everyone is now having secret meetings behind the two Crows backs to figure out the best way to explain to them that These Are Not Normal Behaviors, You're Just Traumatized.

[hyperions-light]

Rook’s notes on the Lighthouse/Caretaker for the codex ask!

Thank you for asking! [Codex prompts here] These are very fun so far!

- This place is alive? Moves to accommodate guests, changes layout. Many places accessible using acrobatics. Some inaccessible currently (tried, dangerous).

- Seems to have assigned me Fish Room. Think they are watching me (good?). Able to rearrange furniture but not request more. Annoying.

- Solas lived here? Depressing. No wonder he’s so miserable. Found weird, sad little room with his stuff in it. Going to ask him if he’s bored in the Fade Jail next time. Maybe he will be less annoying if he has something to do? Can try to mentally recreate books, maybe.

- There’s a. Ghost? Demon? Spirit? Asked Bellara, she says spirit. Very turquoise, many eyes, bad clothes (do spirits wear those? Ask Solas). Seems helpful? Provides gondola rides and is more polite than gondoliers in Treviso. And it’s free!

- Spirit is in Lighthouse now. Very cryptic, even more than Solas. Wonder if that was a requirement in Arlathan (ask Solas). Still not dangerous. Seems to help with accessing new parts of Lighthouse. Asked why I couldn’t just go everywhere now, got vague nonsense. Ugh.

- Should bring random Crows + civilians here to see if it does anything. Viago? Might be funny!

- Found out Library is covered in depressing murals of things Solas regrets. Probably impolite to bring up. Does he like being miserable? I don’t cover my walls with all the missions I fucked up. Strange, sad, bald man. Going to ask him if he wants to play cards next time. Maybe letting him win would cheer him up.

- Manfred is my new best friend. We’re exploring the Lighthouse together.

- Who’s Felassan?

- Solas says to stop contacting him about unimportant things (no).

- Spent indeterminate amount of time trying to convince Lighthouse to replicate animal habitats. Did not work and Davrin looked concerned.

- Was having Davrin show me how to carve animals (looks fun) but got distracted by Assan and impaled my hand. Davrin was upset about this. Said it was fine, but he insisted we visit Emmrich. Discovered Lighthouse speeds magical healing. Worth it.

- If I start bringing cats here will it make a room for them?

- Tried bringing cats. One almost floated away. Do NOT bring Neve’s favorite.

- Bellara and I were using the magical floating ornaments above her room for target practice, and one of them suddenly exploded! Practical applications?

- How come no one else ever visits Varric? Tried to ask Harding if she’d been to see him, but she didn’t hear me? Strange. Visit more-- maybe others will come with? He must be lonely in there.

- Remember to ask Solas if he needs to eat. Think I could manifest Lucanis’ paella if I tried hard enough.

- Taash and I are going to try and build some traps. Borrowed explosives from Antoine. Think Lighthouse is sentient enough to identify intruders if I talk to it.

- Tried to ask the fish about Solas. Maybe they saw him while he was here?

- One of the wisps left Neve’s room suddenly, so we followed it around-- they are DEFINITELY the ones moving people’s stuff. Also maybe causing books to appear? Neve says we need more evidence.

- Emmrich said Harding made the plants grow because she loved them (of course she did). Going to ask her to make me taller via caring about me.

- Sat in the pantry for a while trying to talk the Lighthouse into manifesting a new bed for Lucanis, now that Spite isn’t a problem. Convinced nobody can sleep on that thing. No luck. Try carrying couch from library?

- MANY, LOUD objections to Taash and me building traps. Still think it could work, but promised Davrin I’d return explosives. No one here lets me have any fun (except Taash, Bellara, and Spite).

- Spent a while trying to see if the Lighthouse would let Harding move any of the giant floating chunks of rock. Also attempted exploding arrows + asking politely. No luck.

- Emmrich brought Johanna’s skull here! Amazing! Asked Emmrich to carry my skull around with him after I die so I can see new stuff. Did not understand the reasons he said he couldn’t. Will keep bothering him.

- Friends keep leaving things in my/the fish’s room. Need more drawers.

- Lace says Taash and Bellara can put up memorials to Cyrian and Shathann in her garden, if they want. Think it’s a good idea. Emmrich agrees.

- Made it to the top of the Lighthouse! Made Assan promise not to tell the others how to get up there. Reminds me of the rooftops in Treviso.

- Makes sense now, why Varric never got his own room. Going to put his stuff in Lace’s garden. I think she would have liked that.

[lavender-tea-fling]

For that kiss meme: 26!!

Thanks for the prompt!!!

26. A kiss where both parties are crying.

Well you KNOW I gotta do a post-fade prison reunion fic.

——————————————————-

The first thing Rook sees when he opens his eyes is the Memorial Gardens. His head hurts fiercely, no doubt amplified by dehydration, exhaustion, and terror. Even the dim light of the gardens seems too bright. No doubt another one of the prison’s attempts to break him further, Rook thinks bitterly, squeezing his eyes shut against this new form of torment.

He lays on his back at the base of what seems to be “Love in Life and Death”. First Neve, then Harding, then Varric’s goodbye, some sort of portal… is Rook supposed to face Emmrich now? Maker knows he regrets their parting words. I never got to tell him that I love him. He was so afraid to die. Why was I so dismissive?

There are sounds around them now, shouts and scuffling feet. Rook curls in on himself, hands coming up to clamp over his ears. If this place is built on regret, he needs to focus, needs to forgive himself for what he said, needs to—

“Rook!”

Someone collapses beside him. There are hands in his hair, on his shoulders, caressing his face, squeezing his arms. The touch is startling, and… warm. That can’t be right, everything is cold. Colorless. He is alone in this space.

Rook opens his eyes.

Kneeling above him, hands frantically checking for injuries, is Emmrich. The senior necromancer looks like he had aged a decade. His hair, usually perfectly styled and neat, was unkempt and unwashed. A small amount of stubble decorated his cheeks, and he clearly hadn’t slept in a long time.

Rook sits up slowly, tentatively reaching out to the man he had grown to love more than life itself. His fingers find the necromancer’s pulse point, feeling the warm thrum of life pounding through his veins; Warm, steady, and real.

“E-Emmrich?” The rogue croaks out, a stray tear falling onto the bloodied armor he has worn since Ghilan’nain’s death.

“Darling.” Emmrich couldn’t hold back his tears any longer, winding his arms around Rook and sobbing into his chest. “I. We thought you were—“

“Vhenan, I…” Rook whimpers, clutching Emmrich’s shirt with all the strength he has left. “Is this real? Where—“

Emmrich cuts him off with a bruising kiss. It’s messy and inelegant, of course it is, borne simply out of a desire for closeness. Their tears mingle together, falling between them and rolling off Rook’s dented breastplate. It’s both seconds and hours when Rook’s shuddering sobs intensify into tears of abject relief. “I looked around, and, and— You were GONE. All of you. And Solas, he…”

“Breathe, dearest, I’ve got you.” Emmrich whispers, cradling the rogue’s head against the crook of his neck. “We’ve got you.”

Just beyond the pair, Bellara, Davrin, Taash, and Lucanis stand together. Lucanis holds Solas’ dagger (how’d they get it back?), watching the pair with a soft, bittersweet expression. Taash stands beside him. One of Harding’s arrowheads has joined her mother’s horn among their many necklaces. Davrin and Bellara are doing an admirable job keeping Assan and Manfred contained. Rook chuckles wetly as Manfred tugs aggressively at the Warden’s sleeve, giving Assan the opening to slip away from his caretaker to tackle the two Mourn Watchers in excitement.

They’ve lost so much, all of them. Yet, for a moment, Rook is happier than he has ever been.

[queenmuzz]

Five Stages of Grief: Chapter II: Anger

Warning: Post Tearstone Island Spoilers

Read it HERE on Ao3

He grips the bridge of his nose to stop the impending headache.  Worry and stress have no doubt played a large huge part in it, but a lack of sleep and a diet of nothing but Lucanis’s coffee (that’s how he knows things are getting bad, when his tea no longer can sustain him) aren’t helping.  And now the rising arguments coming from his companions is making the possibility of a headache into a certainty.

There’s a loud thud that echoes through his skull as Taash pounds their fist on the table.  “This is bullcrap!  It’s been what, four days?  And we haven’t done anything to get Bellara or Rook back!”

Emmrich bites his tongue, suppressing the urge to inform her that he has read more books in the last four days, researching everything related to the Fade, its pockets, and ancient elvish history than he has in an entire year (and possibly more books than they've read in their lifetime, but he wisely bites his tongue).  Because he knows the answer to what their next question would be:  Has it helped get them back?  And the answer is a resounding no.

“Everyone is doing the best they can, Taash.”  Harding rests her small hand on the Adari’s fist, “it’s just that these things take time”. Harding has been hard at work too working her inquisition contacts to the breaking point, not to mention attempting to mediate between the ever increasing arguments that threaten to boil over anytime the group meets to update their progress.  She’s doing her best, but Harding doesn’t have the same talents as Rook, she doesn’t know when to stand firm, instead of agreeing with every idea to keep everyone happy.  It’s not something he blames her for, as if he were in her tiny shoes, he’d probably do the same.  The loss of the three has left a giant bloody wound in the group, and an infection of feverish anger is beginning to set in.  It needs to be cleansed and stitched together in order to begin the healing process, and without Rook, there is no hope of it getting better.

“There’s also the issue of Minrathous,” Neve interjects, taking her pipe out of her mouth, which Emmrich has disapprovingly noticed she’s been puffing on much more lately. “The few Shadow Dragon contacts I still have have informed me that the Venatori have drastically increased their subjection of the city, and are seemingly preparing for… something.”

“Mierde,” mutters Lucanis, but Emmrich is close enough to hear Spite raging.  “LESS TALK. MORE DOING. FIND ROOK.” He can’t disagree with that sentiment, but the problem is that no one knows where to start.  It’s just more bad news after bad news. 

“Sorry to break it to you, Neve,” Taash says as they spear a sausage from the central platter, “Minrathous is kinda not really important right now. Rivain’s in an uproar, the Antaam are running like a bull in a pottery shop… uh… wait, is that the correct term?  Anyways, if you’re outside the cities, you’re fresh meat to those bastards, and it’s only gonna get worse.”

Neve’s eyes darken as she puts out her pipe with an ices hard.  “You think MY city, which has already been attacked by a blighted dragon and taken over by the Venatori, isn’t important?”

“I’m not saying that, Neve, I’m just saying it’s not our highest priority.  We already knew the place had gone to crap way before Tearstone island.”

The air around Neve drops central degrees, and Lucanis twitches, no doubt attempting to contain a VERY agitated Spite, who is chomping at the bit to let them all know what his position on the matter is.

“TOO LOUD.  FIND ROOK”

“Even if we were to find Elgar’nan, what could we do except chuck rocks at him and insult his hairstyle?” Taash continues, as Harding attempts, and fails to shush them, “He has an Archdemon we gotta kill first, and Davrin’s not here to help.  Not to mention the whole ‘Lyrium Dagger’ thing we don’t have.”

That brings something to Emmrich’s mind.

“Wait,” he says, as he places the coffee cup down. “Bellara said Rook allowed her to make a detailed study of the blade.  And knowing how diligent she can be with ancient elvish technology, she must have made detailed notes about it.  Perhaps, if I can study them, and with enough lyrium I may be able to recreate the blade, complete with the enchantments that make it so powerful… But,” he stops himself, remembering his younger colleague, whose boundless energy to learn as much as she could, was not with him, “It would require me to go through her notes, and I don’t feel…” she’d always been welcoming to the ‘Professor’ whenever he paid her a visit, but now with her gone, the thought of entering her little workshop to look for notes makes him feel like a burglar.

“I’ll go with you,” Neve offers, her voice softening, the agitation in the room slowly settles down, as the two of them slowly get out of their chairs.

“Thank you,” he replies, and he means it.  Neve and Bellara have a very close bond, and it’s probably best that she accompanies him.  Deep down, he knows the young elf would never mind him going through his notes, and in fact would be thrilled, but he can’t seem to bring himself to do it without someone’s permission.

He barely hears Lucanis mutter as he leaves “He didn’t even take a bite of the breakfast I made him….”

-------

There is only the sound of the rustling papers as they go through stacks and stacks of notes.  The bust of Anaris sits there, silently mocking them with its smug face, and Emmrich has to resist the urge to knock it over.  His nerves must be fraying, he realizes, if he is contemplating destroying the work of a colleague.  The problem is, Bellara is a copious note taker… of EVERYTHING.  Coupled with a habit of being a little scatterbrained, and no doubt the wisps mischievously moving everything around, it’s not an easy search.  Twice, he catches himself asking,  “Bellara, where did you put those notes on Rook’s dagger?” before realizing she can’t answer.  How many times had he asked her to stop calling him ‘Professor’ and to just simply call him ‘Emmrich’.  What he’d give to hear her call him ‘Professor.. I mean Professor Emmrich… I mean, sorry, Emmrich!’ right now.

“Aha!” Neve crows in triumph, as she holds up a sheaf of papers.  He can make out a rough sketch of the lyrium blade, and squiggles that approximate writing.  She walks over and hands them to him.  His heart jumps in his chest.  Yes, with these details, his studying, and a substantial amount of precious lyrium, there was a chance he could recreate what had been lost, or rather stolen from them.  Deep inside he hopes that it could even bring back… her.

“Yes, this will do nicely…”  he murmurs more to himself than Neve.  For the first time in what feels like an eternity, he feels hope.

“I’ll need time to study this.  This will be an undertaking few, if any mortal has ever accomplished.  I don’t know how long it will take, but I will do my best."  He begins to walk out of the room, fully intending to make a beeline to his study, but Neve stills him with a gentle, but unyielding hand.

“Emmrich,” she asks softly.  “You know you don’t have to do this alone.  We know how much Rook means to you…”

He knows that she means well.  That it all comes from a place of friendship and concern.  But right now, he needs neither, nor does he need her pity.  Especially her pity.

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine.” It’s not a lie.  A lifetime in the Necropolis has given him ample opportunity to work with only the dead for company.  He can take care of himself, and he refuses to be a burden to anyone else.

“Emmrich…” she persists, and there’s pity laced in that name.  It disgusts him.

“Leave. Me. Be.”  His voice hisses like the wind that blows through the Great Hall, bringing along the grit of grave dust.  He doesn’t need anyone right now.  All he desires is the time and solitude to study and study a way of recreating Solas’s blade.  And coffee.  Lots of coffee. 

------

He storms off towards his room, leaving a very concerned Neve standing there.

The next three days consist of never ending study of Bellara’s very detailed notes, deciphering her… unique… handwriting (he’s grateful that he had so much practice during their correspondence that feels like ages ago) taking notes and coming up with, and scratching out multiple theories.  There’s occasionally a short nap (which he makes sure to wake up from before the dreams start)  and then the coffee.  And more coffee.

Any interruption, save for Manfred’s delivery of the strongest stuff Lucanis can brew, is met with a glare, as in the case of Harding, who wanted to check for a status update, or a growl, like when Neve came in to ‘helpfully’ inform him that Elgar’nan had made his move and invaded Minrathous.  None of which matters to Emmrich right now.  He’s making good progress on which enchantments need to be applied to the blade, for how long, and in which order, but it still needs time.

Johanna’s skull and the table she’s bound to are shoved in a closet.  It only took one single jab, a sarcastic ‘Oh how the mighty Volkarin is stumped by some formula created by an uneducated forest elf’, before he decided she needed to be banished from his sight and hearing, lest he do something that he would regret. He is a Watcher still, even if he is a failure at everything else, and he has a duty to protect her, even if its from himself.

Manfred is also wisely staying out of his way.  He tries his best to be helpful, bringing Emmrich books when requested, or yet another cup of coffee, but even the sound of his jawbone clacking, or his occasional hiss is enough to start a raging headache in the man.  

Day four (seven days since Zea was taken from him) of his studies, and he’s finally come across a working theory of how the blade is able to puncture through the protective enchantments of the gods.  It requires the lyrium to be both a conduit, and an inhibitor of magical energies, depending on what the balance of magic is.  If the object has more magical energy than the blade, the magic will transfer to it, leaving the would-be god, or Veil vulnerable to a mundane cutting action.  Like a drop of water being absorbed into a dry cloth.  It’s able to go the other way too, if the blade encounters something with very low amounts of magic, which may explain what happened to Harding.  But that’s not important right now.  Now, he must construct, and implement the enchantments needed to sustain said charge, and that will be the hardest part of the whole thing.  Every moment spent on a dead end, every wasted moment dozing off or even sipping his coffee is a moment he could be getting closer to bringing her back, to apologizing to her, to begging for forgiveness.

So it's no surprise that he’s less than pleased when he’s interrupted by a plate of flatbread, layered with goat's cheese and sundried tomatoes being placed in front of him.  He lifts up his head to angrily demand why Manfred should disobey his order to not be disturbed, and comes face to face with Lucanis, holding two coffee cups.

“I didn’t ask for food.”

“I know, but you must think I’m stupid to think that I haven’t noticed you haven’t come down for meals as you once did.”

“I’ve been sending Manfred to fetch meals for me,” a lie that the younger man instantly catches on to.

“The only thing he’s been asking for is yet more coffee.”  He sees Emmrich’s eyes dart immediately to the cup in his hand, and pulls it back, clicking his tongue.

“No… the only way you’re getting another cup is after you clear this plate.”

Emmrich is astounded.  Does Lucanis think he’s a child, who has to be cajoled into eating their supper?  He contemplates flipping the plate off the desk, flatbread and all, before realizing that yes, it would indeed make Lucanis think he’s a child.

It’s Spite of all people, that makes him acquiesce. “CURIOSITY IS WORRIED. WITHOUT ROOK HE IS LOCKING CURIOSITY OUT.  AND CURIOSITY CANNOT GET BACK IN”   He hears Spite’s voice, while Lucanis nods in agreement.  It’s a low move, to use Manfred’s worries as a weapon to get him to eat, but… what they say comes from a place of concern and care.  Manfred is too pure hearted to guilt him into eating, and no doubt went to a fellow spirit for aid.

He sighs, and begins to nibble the edge of the bread.  Like most of Lucanis’s cooking, it tastes divine…or at least it would if it wasn’t bringing back memories of the last time he last ate something similar to this.  He half expects Zea’s hand to snatch one of the tomatoes off the bite he's about to take, popping it in her mouth, giving him one of those grins that would immediately melt his heart, and instantly forgive her.  But no such hand, not the left one, with the calluses he knew by heart, nor the right, with the slightly shorter pinky finger, (an embarrassing accident, she had explained) appears.  So he dejectedly eats, the food tasting like ash in his mouth, and forming a lump in his throat every time he swallows.  Still he powers through, and to his eternal annoyance, Lucanis is right.  He hasn’t been eating much, and it's affecting his body and mind.  He seems more focused, the words on the page no longer running together as he attempts to read, his hands (almost) stop their trembling.

Satisfied, and more than a little smug, Lucanis sets the cup of coffee in front of Emmrich.  He mutters his thanks and begins to sip.  He really hates the taste, even under the expert brewing of Lucanis, but it’s the only way to keep going, to push the need for sleep away, to where he knows he will be beset by nightmares.

“This is the last cup I’m making you,” the assassin announces, after taking a sip of his own, no doubt to bolster his own courage. “I’m cutting you off. At least until you get a good night’s sleep.”

Emmrich is outraged.  Yet again, he’s being treated like a naughty child who has stayed up too late.

“Lucanis, you wouldn’t dare…”

“I can… and I am.”  His eyes soften.  “I’m not doing this to be cruel, Emmrich.  I of all people know what a lack of sleep can do to a person.  And I was trained for it.  You are not.”  He places his empty cup down, and places a hand on his shoulder, no doubt to offer support, but it burns, like a slap to the face. “You need to sleep.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” he shoots back, barely containing the rage boiling within him, “You have someone to go to bed with…” 

He regrets those words, even as they come out of his mouth.  Lucanis’s reaction is immediate, and yet subdued.  His eyes flash purple, and Spite lets out a single growl before it’s clamped down, and the haunting dark eyes return as the assassin regains control.

“I know you want her back, Emmrich.  Perhaps more than all of us put together.  But you cannot kill yourself to do so.   You know she would never forgive herself if you did.” 

Emmrich ought to apologize.  Andraste’s Sacred Flames, he wants to apologize for such a crass insult.  But he can’t bring himself to do it.  Not yet.  Only when she’s back in his arms, can he truly offer apologies.

“Get some sleep, Emmrich” Lucanis repeats, and it hurts that his voice doesn’t even have well deserved anger.  The man ought to be furious with him, he ought to be barely resisting the urge to slap him, but instead he slowly retrieves the plate, and begins to make his way out of the room, before stopping at the threshold.

“Once, I thought I could deal with the pain on my own.  But there was- is,” he hastily corrects himself, “a woman who helped me reach out, who opened doors.  Take the advice she once gave me, that isolating yourself will only cause you more pain.”  He vanishes, leaving Emmrich there with only a cup of coffee for company.  

Lucanis means well, he knows.  He’s trying to help.  But until he finds Zea, he cannot let up on his research.

But, his body can only handle so much before it needs more coffee, and now the only other source is the ‘coffee’ that Neve brews.  He’s not that desperate.

Yet.

[profoundlyfaded]

And a further addition to this post - romantic head canons for EmmRook - specifically around Rook’s time in The Fade.

As per all these little snippets, this involves Yaryna Ingellvar; Mourn Watch Reaper. This one contains slightly more explicit spoilers so be warned, it also contains footnotes…

In the immediate aftermath of Rook being pulled into The Fade, there isn’t much time to process what has happened as Elgar’nan rains enough fire down on Tearstone it turns to glass*. It’s Davrin and Taash who all but drag Emmrich to safety but once back in the Lighthouse he walks back to his rooms without a word, shutting the door, shutting them all out.

The silence is an echoing yaw across the Lighthouse because it’s not just Rook, Harding is gone too, dead in a blaze of bravery. Bellara too, ripped through a mirror. And Emmrich feels those losses deeply too; Harding had become an unexpected but firm friend and Bellara was akin to what he imaged having a curious niece might have been like. But his mind swims back to Rook; beautiful, vibrant Rook whose last words to him were cry of relief that he was alright after Ghilan’nain managed to entangle him in Blight. Beautiful, vibrant Rook whom he had told the night before that they probably needed to end it because he’s far too old for her and their future limited. Despite it, however, he woke to her in his bed after she snuck in after he fell asleep.

He stands in his lab, hands on his mortuary slab, bracing himself against the torrent of emotion. The feeling one he remembers as a small boy upon the realisation that his parents are never coming back. But Rook isn’t necessarily dead; she vanished in a blinding flash of light and the taste of the Deep Fade lingered before Elgar’nan rained down his fury.

She could be in The Fade; transported there by factors unknown**. An idea starts to form - he’s looking at his equipment. When he first arrived, Rook had asked him to help them navigate the Crossroads, to try and chart the Fade so they could traverse it. His role expanded, of course, but it was his deep knowledge of the Fade that brought him here. He’d also been studying the prison Solas created, having identified both the one Solas had originally made and the new one he created having found them through readings and valances that were not consistent with surrounding areas.

But he needs something tangible of Rook’s; a deeply personal item with which to give him a baseline of her presence. So he goes to her quarters; as their relationship progressed he spent many an evening here, relaxed with Rook, contemplating the aquarium that he still hasn’t found time to study. In his minds eye, there is moment after moment flooding into him of them kissing, making love, slipping away to the bedroom***. The room smells of her and all the little touches around the room remind him of the things that delight her; the Nevarran Urn, an elven lamp lit with Veilfire. The last set of flowers he left for her sit in a vase, slightly wilted now, it’s been a few days given the rush since Elgar’nan pulled the sun and moon into its diabolical eclipse. Books line one wall - mediations on battle, instruction manuals on hexcraft that he’s afraid to open because she writes in the margins, he finds a couple of the books he’s written in metaphysics in The Fade and he flicks it open to find her handwriting on the page, underlined passages, circled phrases… it’s awful and beautiful at the same time.

There’s also a journal, it bulges, it looks so tantalising. He’s seen her write in it many times. He wants to pick it up, decern something of Rook’s nature just by holding it. Emmrich places his hand on it as if he could feel the beat of her heart through it or the thread of her thoughts. In the back of his mind, he expects Rook, Yaryna, to burst through the door.

In the bedroom, her bed is made because she didn’t sleep there last night, but her cosmetics are strewn across a dressing table. The clothes she wears when they are just at the Lighthouse are thrown across the arm chair in the corner, her velvet day coat on top. A book is on the table beside the chair, open but pages down, and it’s another of his - she’s working through his entire body of published works. There’s also a folded newspaper beside it, the headline reveals it’s actually one of the serials the team all end up sharing - this one is Bellara’s favourite about ghosts.

On the bedside table is what he’s looking for - her hairbrush and hair. Something that contains Rook and all that she is to give him the signature he is looking for.

Lucanis is the first to visit, the following day, with food ‘you can’t keep doing whatever it is you are doing without eating.’

Periodically, the team check on their resident necromancer and then there is news from the Veil Jumpers - Solas emerging from within the ancient ruins of the capital. They tried to question him, but Solas turned them to stone. Emmrich travels to the ruined city, Neve with him along with Davrin and Assan, taking measurements. Here the plan to replicate the knife is born; Emmrich can get a sense of the enchantment well enough to inlay magic into it that it would buy them some time to swap it with the real dagger so they can attempt rescue Rook.

Taash and Lucanis, and to an extent all of them, want to go after Solas but he’s temporarily gone to ground and both Rook and Bellara are out there somewhere. Elgar’nan is nursing his wounds too, clearly deciding on his move now Ghilan’nain is dead. As the dagger comes together, Emmrich continues his search of the Fade and each night returns to Rook’s room to be close to her, one night opening her journal because it’s been days, nearly two weeks and not even a glint.

The flowers he’s given her over their courtship are pressed among the pages, notes about when he gave them to her, what she loves. She’s kept all the ribbons as well. The words speak of love, a connection deeper than can be fathomed, all the things Emmrich has felt but expressed in Rook’s looping handwriting.

And he cries. A deep echoing pain because how could his last words to her have been ones of separation. It should have been love.

Then a few further days later, there’s a glint. The briefest flash. Emmrich doubles down, to his companions he’s become a bit of a mess, the refined clothing, pushed back hair even his speech holds the air of a desperate man.

A few days later again, more flashes of activity, a flurry but not in a location that could be transposed to the real world. Not somewhere they can travel without Solas’s dagger. Elgar’nan makes his move and no one is ready. They don’t have enough resource for an out and out battle on the home turf of the Venatori anyway.

And more flashes of activity; real tangible evidence this time and a location to match - the ritual site where it all went wrong. And they can get there quickly because the location is ‘stored’ within the mirror. The team suit up, hopeful but also scared because what happens if Emmrich is wrong and they’ve not been able to retrieve Solas’s dagger to use.

Blind faith drives Emmrich, more than he had when he retrieved Manfred’s spirit, that Rook can find her way out all he has to do is find the right spot. The weakest point of the Veil. The last thing he hears before he plunges his hand into that tiny gap is Taash saying he better be sure.

And a hand grabs his; warm, familiar. He must say something because the team grab his arm and they pull in a loud shout pulling through Rook. She promptly collapses to her knees and vomits, then a mix of laughter and crying, pressing her forehead to the stone.

‘Darling?’

It’s the most cautious way he’s ever said it. Pausing, Rook wipes her mouth, then looks up, shielding her eyes from bright reality of the world compared to the Fade.

‘I knew you’d find me, my love.’

—

*I think it’s Taash who can tell Rook that Elgar’nan rained so much fire on the island in fury that it turned to glass. You have to interact with them a couple of times during the ‘last conversations’ before going to the final fight.

** I don’t necessarily think that Solas came back through The Fade immediately. I don’t think he returned via Tearstone Island as it would have been too dangerous. I don’t think the gang know Solas escaped for a couple of days or so.

***Look Rook isn’t sleeping on that sofa every night, and Emmrich does not sleep standing up like a horse. I’ve given each of the companions a proper bedroom behind like a hidden door in their respective dens - expect Davrin because that boy has his shit together.

[100jewels-between-teeth]

Oneshot

wordcount: 4027

AO3 ¤ Ko-Fi

~

CW: not technically 18+ but we are tiptoeing that edge, pining, sexual tension so tense it will break teeth, light violence (sparing)

Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte x F!Rook de Riva

Summary: Lucanis decides to take his fellow Crow up on the challenge of a spar, Rook challenging if he is still the great assassin he once claimed to be, or has now rusted with time. The First and Fifth Talon lock in battle.

Time seemed to move so strangely in the Fade. To some, it took no time at all to get used to the new location, the thrumming of magic constantly around them. But for others, it was a much harder transition. The constant feeling of intrusion, like they did not belong and the world around them knew this. They were not ancient elves, none were they spirits. They were just people struggling to bring a world together, while this one strained to accommodate their intrusion.

It took almost two weeks for Lucanis to stop feeling that itching behind his eyes.

Luckily, in that time, the group had seemed to form itself into an almost family dynamic. He was thankful that this was not a group of recluses that would never be around each other. Dinners together, morning coffees. The days where they were not travelling or fighting were spent turning each other's weapons, repairing or adjusting armors. Even just learning about the lives of these people that Lucanis shared space in the Lighthouse with. It reminded him of the early days of the Crows.

Though, comparing the two, this lot was far more hopeless in comparison when it came to fighting.

Under the afternoon glow of the Lighthouse, Lucanis was in the courtyard with some of the others, taking advantage of the downtime they had been blessed with before the next excursion. Taash and Davrin stood facing each other, fists raised in a stance that spoke of practised skill going against brute force. It was a sight, surely, a Quinari squaring up against an elf. The start of this sparring lesson had already earned an eye roll and sigh from Neve and Emmrich, going over recovered tomes. Harding couldn't help but laugh at the two tumbling over each other as she practised on targets near the opposite end, not wanting to risk skewering anyone.

Lucanis stood nearby the pair, his keen eyes watching their every move, studying how the two handled themselves in combat. There was no single form of martial arts being practised; rather, it was a blend of techniques he could assume were passed down through generations of Qun and Wardens. One moved with fluidity and precision, the other with what Lucanis could only describe as the most graceful of brutish force. Both their movements, however, were calculated and deliberate.

As Taash threw a punch towards Davrin, he failed to guard himself and took it straight to the ribs, disrupting his breathing for a moment. Davrin wouldn't let himself get caught off guard a second time as he pushed kick his opponent to gain some distance. Taash, of course, stomachs the blow, countering with a strike of their own that Davrin had made sure to anticipate. Their movements were synchronised, a dance of fists and feet as they spared. Lucanis watched closely, ready to intervene if things got too heated.

"Nice try, Taash," Lucanis called out, his voice carrying over the courtyard, eliciting another look of disapproval from the two mages. "But you left yourself open there. Davrin, remember to keep your guard up.”

“They should be doing this with much sharper instruments than fists. Knives, swords, anything to make this more exciting. I want blood, desperation!” Spite paced around them, his voice cutting through Lucanis’s thoughts like a white hot blade. He couldn't help but flinch, but hearing Spite sound so frustrated did give Lucanis a little bit of gratification. Anything to frustrate the demon.

Pushing the annoyance from his mind, he brought his attention back to the others, beginning his critiques to the two. Of course, no matter what, Lucanis knew that they were formidable fighters. But they both had come to him wanting to learn more of his skill, to be more dexterous and precise with their bodies. Brute force could only get you so far before true skill had to come to play. Honestly, with everything happening in and out of the Lighthouse, his mind even, the distraction was welcome.

Though the voice that broke through his instruction was enough to shift that distraction onto something completely different.

“Taash, your right hook, you swing with it too high. He is expecting this with your height.”

Avantika's “Already so comfortable with her first name I see-” Rook’s voice broke through the lesson, his fellow Crow seemingly appearing from the air as she approached the group. Wild black curls surrounding those eyes of amber fire, Lucanis could not help but swallow the ever-present lump in his throat. Even without all of her armor and finery, just clad in a simple purple salwar kameez, the woman knew how to stand out amongst the others. A feat of her own really, considering exactly who was all here.

As she got to the group, she gave a quick yet light jap with her elbow to Davrin's stomach, earning a ‘oof’ from the elf.

“He is too busy protecting his face to pay attention to his core. Instead of long punches, resort to quick jabs. Come at him from his sides.” Taash nodded fervently as Rook pointed out all of Davrin's blind spots, earning an embarrassed blush of the Warden's cheeks. Before Lucanis could even interject with a response, those eyes landed on him

"They are good, Lucanis, but they also aren't moving around enough for this to be a proper spar. I don't think I have ever seen a fight stand so still in my life. Unless you really are just having them take turns." Ava looked up to Lucanis, shrugging her shoulders.

"Your fighting lacks urgency, as such you are too used to protecting unnecessary parts of the body. See how even that kick winded you and caused you to stumble back?" Taash looked away, huffing as Avantika shook her head, giving a smirk to the man training "Have the Crows, more specifically the First Talon, really lacked that much in training abilities? You're going soft." She laughed to herself.

Of course Lucanis felt that bristle from her words. The resounding snort from Harding trying to stifle her laughter did not help, either. Though he knew Rook was mostly joking, there was still a sense of pride in him that he carried from being First Talon. With her words, a sense of challenge bloomed in Lucanis’s chest, making him straighten his back with a brow arched as he took a step towards the woman.

Of course, Lucanis could see that just the action of acknowledging her words would spur the mage on.

"I just feel you two may... just may... have a slightly inadequate teacher.I can only assume that time in The Ossuary may have rusted his technique a bit. Maybe if you had a better instructor..." That confident smirk Ava wore only spurred that fire within Lucanis’s chest more. He barely even noticed that now, the two had gained much more attention than before.

“Really now, Lucanis, I would not take such a thing lying down.” Neve’s quite amused timbre joined in. “Clearly it seems the younger Crow has something to prove.” Now that elicited a glare from Avantika, Lucanis captured the moment in his memory as he chuckled.

"Your expertise is welcomed, Rook. Clearly your gifts as a Fifth Talon apply here. " He emphasised the ranking of her family, a little salt in the wound as Rook looked back at him with a steeled gaze.

"But I'm afraid I must decline. As a First Talon, I cannot risk causing any harm, even in a controlled environment, to one of my team." If Rook was going to throw shots towards him, he was not going to bow out so easily. Of course he wanted to accept this little challenge of hers, but he was not about to do so without making her squirm a little first.

"Oh no... no no I do completely understand, Dellamorte." The way Avantika growled out his name made goosebumps rise on his skin, his internal temperature flaring and even making Spite illicit a growl of their own.

"I am only just worried you may be out of your prime. It is evident how you two were sparring.” Lucanis then remembered again they were not alone in the courtyard as Ava addressed the others. “He is losing his touch. Besides, he is right about the safety thing. I would hate to put him on his ass and cause any injury." Her voice was almost a teasing pur as her eyes drifted back to him, her smirk growing wider as she arched her brow.

All eyes were now on Lucanis. Shockingly, Spite had nothing to say, the demon’s eyes just glancing between the two Crows. For a moment, Lucanis just inspected the woman, noting her confident stance and how the light breeze that rustled the foliage in the garden lifted those thick, endless curls. How they looked when wild and tangled after the fray of battle.

‘Control your thoughts, man!’ Lucanis was more surprised that it was his own thoughts hissing at him to keep himself under control than Spite.

"Rook, while I appreciate your offer, I must make you aware of the risks involved," Lucanis began, his tone serious yet respectful. "As a Crow, it is my duty to ensure the safety of fellow Crows and my team around me,any injury that occurs during our spar would ultimately fall on my shoulders. I cannot in good conscience accept your challenge without first informing you of these risks."

There was almost a disappointed sigh that resonated from the group around him, Harding frowning slightly as Taash let out a small sigh. Even Avantika had her shoulders fall, seemingly believing that her poking and instigating had all but failed.

"However,"

Now that perked the mage up.

Lucanis continued, his gaze steady as he met Avantika’s eyes. "If you are willing to accept these risks, then so am I. But I want to be clear that I will not hold back, and I expect the same from you."

Rook beamed up to the man, his heart stuttering slightly before he quickly pushed away the feeling.

“I accept. I will even make this more fair for us. No magic, no fancy knife tricks, no interference from… outside forces.” The rest of the party around them could assume the comment was about their potential meddling, but both Rook and Lucanis knew exactly who she was addressing with that, Spite letting out a little grumble.

"Well then, I would truly hate to lower your expectations of me. I think I am more than willing to accept those terms.” Lucanis mirrored the other’s smirk.

The rest of the onlookers were quick to give the two room, dispersing to different parts of the courtyard to watch what was about to unfold. Avantika flourished the scarf that was still draped over her shoulders, quickly removing the jewellery that adorned her face and hands. Lucanis followed suit, deft fingers popping the buttons of his vest before removing completely, also keeping in mind that the sleeves of his shirt were still firmly rolled up his forearms.

“She is watching you… Quite closely.” Spite snickered as Lucanis’s brown eyes snapped toward Avantika, her eyes seemingly fixed on what Lucanis was doing with his sleeves before noticing that he had seen her gaze. She quickly averted her eyes, removing the last of her rings as she began to pace back and forth, Lucanis now being watched and analysed by his opponent.

“Let us see what you’ve got… pequeña cuervo”

It seemed his little nickname had set off the first attack, Avantika narrowing her eyes as, in a flurry of dust, she broke into a sprint. Sliding between his legs before sweeping her own, she aimed directly for his legs, trying to make connection with his calf. Lucanis anticipated the maneuver. It was a move he had experienced countless times before, often at the hands of the formidable women and men in his family. With practiced ease, Lucanis reacted swiftly, catching himself before he could be tripped up.

With a graceful agility that belied his size, Lucanis executed an impressive, albeit unnecessary, back handspring, using the momentum to add distance between himself and Rook. As he landed firmly on his feet, he couldn't help but smirk at the woman, impressed by her speed and agility.

"Nice try, Rook" Lucanis remarked, his voice laced with amusement as he adopted a defensive stance, ready for whatever she had in store next. Despite the playful banter, Lucanis remained focused and alert, fully engaged in the spar and determined to give his all in the friendly competition.

Ava slowly stood, her stance half crouched as she prowled around him, sizing up his defence to try and spot any kind of crack. Lucanis had years of skill and experience above the Fifth Talon, but he was not impervious. Especially when it came to fighting a woman who was far too distracting sometimes.

Getting closer, she quickly swept up the dust on the ground to his face, providing enough of an interference that she could race to his right, landing a blow straight to his side, fist connecting before she rolled on his back attempting a chop at the neck. The dust was enough of a distraction for her to land the blow, but Lucanis's reflexes kicked in, managing to brace himself to minimise the impact. Though the Crow's attack landed, it lacked the force to cause any significant damage.

Despite her speed and agility, Lucanis's body was tough, hardened from years of enduring the rigours of his job and his own family, like a fortress standing against the onslaught of time and adversity. Lucanis was far more durable than she had anticipated.

As Rook’s chop attempted to land, Lucanis swiftly caught her hand in mid-air, halting its momentum. With practised precision, he deftly manoeuvred behind her, locking her arm behind her back with a hand, using his momentum to guide her down to the ground. Though, as she fell, Lucanis's other hand snaked around to cradle her abdomen, providing a cushion against the impact and shielding her from the dusty ground.

It was a subtle gesture, but one that spoke volumes of his consideration and attentiveness to her well-being, even in the midst of a spar. With Rook pinned beneath him, Lucanis leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered to her.

"Do be careful, pequeña cuervo. I may be losing my touch, but I am still a Crow for a reason"

It took all of the strength Lucanis had in his soul to disregard the shiver and shuddering breath as just adrenaline. He could not possibly give that kind of reaction to a woman like Rook, the walking ball of glorious flame she was. Quickly, he helped her stand on her feet, taking a few steps back to collect himself once more.

"Nicely done.You seem to be well trained, De Riva. I’m glad Viago has not started slacking on your techniques.."

He couldn't help but feel a sense of respect for her, not just for her prowess in combat, but for her fearlessness and tenacity. Her continued fearlessness to face insurmountable odds head on.

"Shall we continue? I wouldn't want you to think I'm going easy on you, after all." He smirks

Avantika ruffled her thick black curls, now tousled and messed around her face. Her breathing was frantic, and now her flamed amber eyes were wild. Moving into position, she began moving around Lucanis again, rolling her shoulders and neck.

"Quite ungentlemanly to make me have to make the first move. Come now, isn't the male supposed to lead?" Avantika took a deep breath, lifting her fists to protect her face and midsection, legs ready to jump and run at his move.

“I'm just warming up, Dellamorte."

Lucanis chuckled at the Fifth Talon's playful jab, his eyes alight with amusement as he prepared to resume their spar. Rolling his shoulders to loosen up, he adopted a defensive stance, his muscles tensed and ready for action.

"Alright then, let's see what you've got."

He replied with a grin, his gaze fixed on her as he began to circle her cautiously. He studied her movements, searching for any openings or weaknesses in her defence. With a sudden burst of speed, Lucanis lunged forward, feinting to the left before darting to the right. He aimed a swift jab towards her midsection, testing her reflexes and agility as he sought to keep her on her toes.

What he did not expect was for the woman to drop.

Before his hit could connect, he watched Rook drop to her knees, one hand wrapping around his wrist. Before he could think about reeling back, her other arm snaked around his leg, the man now finding himself completely lifted onto Rook’s back. With a grunt, he felt himself tossed off of her back as she suplexed him, the wind knocked out of his lungs as he landed with an ‘oof’.

The voice of Taash could be heard after cheering out, the mutterings of Emmrich and Neve calling this most uncivilised following. Again, Lucanis had nearly forgotten about the audience that was watching. Before he could catch his breath to stand, Rook pinned his shoulders down with her knees, keeping her weight on pinning his wrists.

This is your round, Avantika. Any woman who's managed to put me on my back and is sitting on my chest has more than earned that win."

Not wanting this to be a complete loss, however, the older gentleman managed to find his competitive spirit again. Lifting his feet he looped them over the woman's arms and crossed them over her chest before pushing down. The back of her head would have met the ground had Lucanis not moved quickly to catch her. His large hands cradling the back of her head as he secured yet another small victory.

Wide amber eyes stared up at Lucanis, the world, just for a moment, disappearing as they both caught their breaths. Lucanis could see that the move she pulled clearly took quite a bit of energy out of her. It was something he knew she wouldn't be able to pull again. But the last thing Lucanis wanted to do, especially after that, was underestimate the little crow. Rook was the first to break the silence.

"So... how many women have put you on your back, Lucanis?"

Lucanis, clearly not having expected that question, chuckled. A breathy one, like he is trying to suppress the amusement from his memories of having been put on his back. Only one other woman has ever managed such a feat against him. And manages to do it consistently too.

"One...."

He answers honestly, his voice filled with fondness at the memory of the woman in question. A tenderness that seemed uncharacteristic to the hardened Crow. But before he could elaborate further he helped to pick her up again. Seemingly able to lift her entire weight with both hands, holding her up to the sky like she is the sun. His brown eyes shimmering as they studied her.

"Alright, let's get back to it," Harding declared, her voice breaking the moment between Lucanis and Rook. "Scores are one to one, and we're ready for the next round."

Setting her down, Lucanis had barely enough time to walk away and ready himself before her arm wrapped around his chest, her other hand pinning his arm to his back as her leg swept his feet from under him. When they both got to the ground, Rook quickly hopped off of him.

“The little fireball wants to play. Oh come now lets play!” For once, and probably the only time, Lucanis agreed with Spite.

Now fully engaged in the spar, Lucanis adopted a boxer-like stance, his arms cocked and ready for action. With each movement calculated and precise, he launched a series of short, controlled bursts of blows, aiming to test the Crow’s defences and keep her on her toes. Despite the intensity of their exchange, Lucanis remained mindful of not overpowering his opponent, yet ensuring that each strike carried enough force to make an impact. Each blow she blocked with her arm, legs, crouching with each arm as she tried to dance around him. Each kick over his head, each time she tried to strike under his chest, he moved around her. Each time he swiped, she bent back, flipping on her arms to keep this dance going alive. At one point he remembered hearing Rook laughing, Lucanis’s own chuckles following. It was slowly devolving into less of a strategic fight now, and more who would get the upper hand on who, and would be the first to fold. As they danced around each other, trading blows in a flurry of movement, Lucanis felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, fueling his determination to match the girl's skill and tenacity.

Of course, neither truly paying attention to their surroundings, when Avantika’s back hit one of the trees growing in the courtyard, both knew exactly who would win this fight.

Lucanis smirked, even laughing at the sight of the trapped Crow. One of his arms pressed against the tree to keep the woman from escaping.

"I would recommend yielding right now, Ava...."

Lucanis chuckles while looking down at the exotic bring of a woman, towering over her in his full height as strands of his hair fall into his face, making him look disheveled and a bit unkempt Normally, he'd be more embarrassed at his current state, but he had a feeling a woman like Rook didn't care. Her own hair was a wild halo of unkempt curls, her skin shining from the sheen of sweat. In this moment, she looked nothing if not ethereal to him.

“Lucanis… are we alone?”

Avantika’s voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes burning into his with some sort of unspoken anticipation as her hand gently raised to brush a stray strand of his hair away from his brow. To his surprise, they were, the feeling of Spite nowhere to be felt in his mind.

Until the sound of someone’s throat being cleared behind them obliterated the small pocket universe the two had found themselves alone in, for that brief moment.

Davrin and Harding applauded behind them, Taash whooping excitedly as they exclaimed how that was exhilarating to watch. Lucanis could only agree, it was exhilarating to be a part of. Moving away from Rook, he retrieved his vest, quickly buttoning it before turning back to his comrade.

"Thank you for the honour of your spar Ava. You were truly magnificent."

Taking a few steps towards her once more, he took her hand and bowed to kiss her bruised knuckles. Though the kiss noticeably lasted just a moment longer than necessary while his deep brown eyes once again gazed deep into her like a moth seeking flame.

“You…. you were the magnificent one, Lucanis. You’re a wonderful teacher, and I thank you. I wear this defeat with honour, First Talon.” Avantika’s voice was filled with nothing but admiration and respect. And Lucanis’s smile that followed her thanks only reflected that back to her.

He was a man lost.

As he took his leave, Avantika staying behind to gather herself and talk strategy with Harding, that feeling in the back of his eyes returned as he stifled a grumble.

“Weakling. You should have given me control, I would have ravaged her then and there. Finally act on all those thoughts I see in your mind as you read those stupid letters. You are losing your touch, stupid man.” Spite spat at Lucanis, watching Avantika with eyes that could be described as only predatory. Lucanis could only shake his head, for that was the true difference between him and Spite. What he told himself to keep Ava’s own advice of being his own man in his mind.

Spite wanted to hunt her, devour Rook until there was nothing left.

Lucanis… especially after today, wanted to ravish her, lay himself at her feet and worship the goddess who dared bless him with a spar.

He was ruined.

[gwynbleiddyn]

they talk for hours.

Morrigan watches patiently, out of sight and mostly out of mind, a tremulous understanding strung between her and the Warden-Inquisitor Severan - now a shared tale that has endured ages, a Blight, and a son. Kerros briefly wonders whether Kieran would appreciate the irony of all this, but then he thinks he'd prefer sitting in the tree with him in Skyhold again instead of here, at the end of the world.

"tell me about them," Rion asks of the Veilguard. Kerros doesn't know where to begin. it feels like they're starting at the end. how much time has passed since he left home? has Cullen remembered to prune the rosebushes and tend to the lemon trees? does grandfather still call around every day, insisting on coffee and a conversation whether or not his father wishes to oblige? Kerros can see it clearly in his mind's eye, the way the garden is left untended as Cullen tends to Rion instead, too weak to leave his bed some days. he can see Amrun pacing in the terracotta kitchen, herbs drying on a rack, coffee brewing in a pot and poured in a cup that will be left untouched - truth be told, Rion doesn't taste much anymore.

Kerros blinks, and he sees his father, sat across from him. sick. tired. armoured, resolute, unyielding. he does not know how to stop fighting.

"you'd like them," Kerros answers. he tells Rion about Taash and Harding, his closest confidants - Rion's eyes lighten at the mention of the Inquisition's scout - and he skirts carefully around Emmrich's fondness of spirits, unwilling to test the weary mind of an ex-Templar. he explains Bellara's tenacity, her cleverness, how he wishes he'd met more Dalish like her in his time. he talks of Davrin's seemingly innate heroism, and how Assan keeps him humble. "and Neve," Kerros says, "she shares your sense of humour, but she's got more braincells to work with., soo...."

Rion chuckles, a faint and raspy sound.

"and there's Lucanis..." he leaves the rest unspoken, but Rion's gaze softens. he knows. and perhaps it is pointless to dwell on something his father will not live to see.

but he can pretend, for a moment, "...when this is done, we're going to Treviso. Cafe Pietra. best coffee this side of Rialto Bay, I promise. Lucanis is a man of his word."

it's easy to get lost in the details of his new life, but with each admission comes a little notch of pain, a fresh mark on his heart, slowly cutting away the fine threads that hold him to Skyhold, to the Inquisition, and to Rion.

he may be a shadow of himself in the here and now, but Kerros holds onto a vision of Rion so tightly that time can only bend around his fingers to touch it. it leaves fingerprinted indents, glimpses in the light, of a man whose shoulders could carry him around Skyhold without a care, even when the world was knocking at his door.

it is a small, fleeting moment, but he thinks he finally has an answer for Bellara's hero. why does he do it? because this story isn't fair, and he will fight it until he can't. no matter which way the tides turn, even if they win, Kerros will lose, and it will hurt more than everything that came before.

"i miss it," Rion admits. "the friendship, that connection. even in the Templars, the Wardens, it was those bonds that kept you going on your worst day, and trust me, the worst day will always come. your friends will keep you when the world won't."

Kerros swallows back the incessant grief, and smiles.

"yeah. i know they will."

[seeker-ophelia]

OK, this is mostly for the lols, but... I honestly couldn't help it. Ya'll wonder why all I do is repost beautiful art, is cuz I am WELL AWARE how difficult and skillful it is. and how bad I am at it

You asked for this @nadas-dirthalen

I want to tag @pinacoladamatata to share with us their Rook. Their art kills me and I love them to bits.

Behold, My Rook:

Name: Danivas Aldwir

Nickname/Alias: Dani

Pronouns: she/her

Lineage: Elf (City)

Faction: Veil Jumpers

Class: Mage (Spellblade)

Potential Romance: Probably Davrin but Taash is a close second 

Potential Friendships: Bellara (already bffs), Harding (likes her spunk), Davrin (appreciates his sacrifice, ride or die for Assan), Taash (reverent awooga), Varric (likes listening to his stories), Lucanis (if he will teach her that cool thing he does with his blades) 

Potential Rivalries: Neve (she's too cool, literally) Emmrich (he’s too nice, she doesn't trust him at first and thinks Mortalitasi are creepy, no, not scary, she’s not scared of him don't be ridiculous she isn’t afraid of anything stop SAYING that she just doesn’t like dead things, NOT AFRAID stop saying that! *screams when Manfred chortles behind her.) 

Tattoos/Scars: Elgar'nan on half her face only 

Notable Appearance Details: Blonde, bob, side undercut - spitting image of Gwen from the spiderverse. Prefers tight fitting clothing that doesn’t get in the way when she gets up close in combat. Binds her breasts. Hates the Dalish concept of footwraps, put some cursed boots on already. 

Anything Else You'd Like To Share: Dani was born into slavery in Minrathous. She started gaining the notice of her masters when her magic manifested, gaining even more attention when she hit puberty, her blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes making her exotic in Minrathous. The Shadow Dragons rescued her when she was a teen. She had the option to work with them, but wanted to try to connect to her Dalish heritage. Bellara was nice to her once and now is a huge role model for her. Where Bell is soft, Dani is hard, where Bell has curves, Dani is edges. Dani loves her very much. 

She took Elgar’nan’s vallaslin but asked for it only on half her face as a reminder of where she came from. 

Her masters used to call her Damni (Damno is latin for condem, and also for fine), but she took back the name when she left, taking Elvhen Dana (to break) and Vas (chains), making her new name Danivas, breaker of chains (Elvhen Lexicon Elvhen, not cannon). 

She is young (I'm thinkin 23), hotheaded, a purple/red rook combo. She has a lot to learn, and is going to get a big smack in the face when she realizes that sometimes her mouth and her temper are going to get her (and those she cares about) in trouble. The world is very black and white to her, and she’s going to have to accept that there are a multitude of shades of grey. 

She hates Solas immediately, the concept of any one individual having that much power makes her squirm, but doubt creeps in when she hears a rumor that The Dread Wolf was freeing slaves from the Imperium. 

[himluv]

DA Review Series: Vows & Vengeance

<<< Previous Review: The Missing

Here we are. The final review. The last little crumb of DA content I had to consume in my year-long journey to read, watch, play, and listen to all things Dragon Age before Veilguard's release.

For awhile there I didn't think I'd be able to to get it all done, but here we are with two weeks to spare. I don't know how I'm going to survive these next two weeks with no Dragon Age media, but I'm thinking of it as a sort of cleanse. A break to prepare mind, body, and spirit for what comes next...

Veilguard.

Title: Vows & Vengeance Writer(s): Will Melton and Jeremy Novik Publication Year: 2024 In-World Year: 9:45+ Dragon Verdict: I had a lot of fun with this series, despite its at times cringe-worthy writing and the occasional lore discrepancy. Is it a wellspring of lore and info? Not so much. But as an introduction to Veilguard's companions and key characters I think it's quite successful. But, successful doesn't equal necessary so you do you, boo.

Vows & Vengeance follows thief Nadia Carcosa as she tries to save her lover Elio from the Fade. He's stuck there thanks to a certain Dread Wolf and the artifact he surreptitiously hired her to steal — the Eye of Kethisca.

After Solas's ritual goes wrong (this dude is a broken record!) Nadia meets Drayden Kiel, a scholar and historian with a particular interest in the Fade. Their hunt for the Dread Wolf and Elio takes them through much of Northern Thedas, and each episode introduces one of the seven companions in Veilguard.

I found all of the companions incredibly endearing and wonderful. Harding is so sweet and kind, but also a bamf. Davrin is strong and noble, but also extremely charming. Taash is an absolute badass and I can't wait to see more of her dynamic in the group. And of course, Neve is a stunner and not just for her fashion sense.

Bellara's episode was an absolute delight — as a longtime fan of the Dalish, hearing one of the People stand up and speak out against their colonizers was very powerful.

Obviously I LOVED the Lucanis episode, even if Antivan nobility having British accents was buckwild. What we heard from Lucanis told us so much about his character and I can't WAIT to get to know him better, if you know what I mean ;) .

Emmrich and Manfred were such a joy to meet. Their dynamic is so sweet and the kindness just radiates from Emmrich. I can't wait to play rock paper scissors with my little bone buddy.

It was almost unfair, honestly, because the companions were so loveable and Nadia... Wasn't. I really struggled with her, for a lot of the same reasons I struggled with Katara in ATLA. But Nadia doesn't have the excuse of being a child.

Nadia came across as very impatient, oftentimes mean, and incredibly short-sighted. She oscillates between being a know-it-all and being utterly uninterested in understanding what's happening around her. I wasn't really rooting for her, sadly. She was just the vehicle this podcast used to introduce us to these other characters.

I must add here that I absolutely loved Drayden and would be more than happy to meet them in Veilguard or other Dragon Age media in the future. But I am glad Nadia's "retired".

I also feel really bad for Elio. I don't feel like Nadia really processed the fact that he died and that it was her fault (and also Solas's). Or at least, we didn't get to hear her process that. And so her eulogy/vow at the end rang a bit hollow for me. Her emotion and her grasp at closure didn't feel earned.

But! I do want to say that shoving all these characters into eight 45-minute episodes had to have been an INCREDIBLE challenge. And, when compared to other Dragon Age tie-in media, this one is definitely not bad. I know I'm glad I listened, and that my Thursday morning drive has been the highlight of my week for the last eight weeks.

But now it's over. Just like this review series is over. The only thing left to do is sit back and countdown the days until we finally return to Thedas!

TWO WEEKS LEFT, Y'ALL!!!!!!!

[cybershock24601]

Imagine rook telling the companions how much they miss their pet (insert animal here) that they "raised themself" and everyone is thinking "Oh how nice and sweet" and when they finally reach the necropolis they see rooks pet is a zombie or skeleton animal and they realized when rook said "raised themself" they meant...from the dead

You. You get me.

Rook Ingellvar most definitely has a necromantic pet and treats it like the sweetest most precious thing in the entire world. If anything ever happened to it they would kill everyone in this room and then themself energy and the fact that it’s already dead does not matter. Rook only left their bone baby back home because Varric and Harding said it probably wasn't a good idea to bring it along because most people outside of Nevarra aren't exactly cool with the undead, so Harding definitely knows what Rook is talking about when they mention their pet and just has the most strained smile on her face when Rook mentions their precious puppy while everyone else is taken in by Rook's stories about their dog back home because who doesn't love dogs?

At least until they go get Emmrich and Rook decides to go grab a bunch of the stuff they left at the Necorpolis when they left the first time including their bone dog because everyone seems cool with Manfred so Precious the skeletal mabari should be all good too.

Of course no one says anything to Rook’s face but everyone but Emmrich is at least a little disturbed and unnerved by the creepy skeleton dog wandering around the Lighthouse and begging for pets because how are you supposed to pet a skeleton?

Assan is the only one having a good time because now he has a friend to rough house with and Rook is left to scold the both of them for playing too rough because their skeleton dog has lost a leg and Rook’s going to have to reattach it. Davrin has completely given up and just decided to let Rook handle this one because he’s already got one rambunctious griffin to deal with, he’s not adding the bone dog on top of it.

Taash however is debating whether they should punt the thing off the edge of the Lighthouse because it freaks them the fuck out and Emmrich is impressed by the skill Rook has shown in the necromantic arts to resurrect such a loving yet protective guard dog. Most everyone else is staying as far away from the bone dog as possible though I do think Bellara might be the first to really start giving the creepy little thing a chance with everyone else reluctantly following suit because Rook just has the biggest saddest puppy eyes whenever anyone ignores their precious little baby.

[defira85]

Thedas Tuesday

Just over a week to go! And I've done introductions for all 8 of my Rooks (if you fancy, you browse the tag here to see any you might have missed) so today I'm posting my predictions as to who might romance who. This is just a guess, I've been trying to avoid a lot of the early access stuff that went live in September, so I really don't have a huge grasp on the companions' personalities for the most part, and it's entirely possible I'll get wrenched in a completely different direction by the muse once I get into the game proper.

But for now, under the cut because it's long:

Vaaran: Qunari Grey Warden, warrior class. This is actually the easiest one to predict because Vaaran has been a Grey Warden since the siege of Amaranthine in 9:31 and is actively hearing her calling at the onset of Veilguard. Who better to woo the stoic warrior who has embraced her own death and is only lingering to ease her sister's guilt but the charming necromancer and master of death himself? How much will it hurt Emmrich to realise that for once he finds death to be a hindrance, a horror, an enemy ready to snatch his new love away? How much will it hurt Vaaran when she realises she wants to live, but it might be too late?

Kasaanda: Qunari Grey Warden, mage class. Bubbly and boisterous, excited to be alive and to experience everything life has to offer, who else would catch her eye but the equally bubbly Bellara?

Micaela: Human Mourn Watch, mage class. A member of the illustrious and mysterious Gottschalk family on her mother's side, the more common Ingellvar on her father's side. Cousin to the infamous Jo Hawke. As a Gottschalk, Micaela has been raised as a member of the Veiled Brotherhood, and has an intimate relationship with spirits, demons and blood magic. Of COURSE that means I'm going to throw her at Lucanis (and Spite) because they're going to annoy each other SO MUCH it'll be delicious

Hedrobella: Dwarf Lord of Fortune, warrior class. The infamous Captain Brand is a world-weary grump with a heart of gold hiding under many, many layers of scars and snark. She is going to find common ground with Neve, two snarky women fighting to do the right thing for the little guy and finding comfort in each other

Dhraoibhan: Elven Veil Jumper, warrior class. I think I want to go elf for elf, and head for Davrin. We've never had the opportunity to have a Dalish elf romance a Dalish elf before! It's exciting! And with my personal little headcanon that Dhraoibhan is a worshipper of the Forgotten Ones, I can write it as a little antagonistic, a little culture clash, which will be fun. The only problem, it's also warrior for warrior, and now that the party size has been cut down, that makes it difficult to justify having him in the party with them

Luciaane: Human Shadow Guard, mage class. TECHNICALLY SHE'S INQUISITION, NOT SHADOW GUARD. Again, I get why there's not an Inquisition faction as a player background, I do, but I want one. For many reasons that I went into in her backstory post, but also because it'll be hilarious having her romance Harding knowing that Luc, her father, was a member of the Inquisition and a member of Inquisitor Corinne Trevelyan's inner circle, and he'll do fucking anime murder sparkle eyes when he realises Harding is dating his baby girl

Nomi: Dwarf Antivan Crow, rogue class. She's gayer than San Francisco in the spring time, and she's devoutly religious and bound by how important duty is. So of course that means she's going to have a CRISIS over Taash, who has left the Qun and has no loyalties beyond coin and is just the most extraordinary (BIG) woman Nomi has ever seen

Which is all 7 companions accounted for! Which leaves...

Beren: Elf Shadow Dragon, rogue class. Look. We all know my brand. I'm going to go after an unromanceable, it's just going to happen. I'll write a 300k fic about an unromanceable character yet again, it's just what I do. Will it be Solas, now that he's unattainable? Perhaps. It might also be Elgar'nan. Maybe it's Manfred, because Elissa's canon romance is Justice the corpse, so why wouldn't I romance a skeleton in this game? Who knows. We'll see what happens and who my wretched soul latches on to in 2 weeks time....

And in 2 weeks time we'll know just how wrong I am and how badly I messed up these predictions!

[mythals-whore]

Tell me about that Davrin WIP you got going! 💖

I’m so sorry I missed this!! Thank you for asking!

The Davrin WIP is solely based on (spoilers) the romance scene right before endgame where he has a line about “keeping it casual” and i decided to essentially write a fic where Davrook are basically friends with benefits (obviously they fall for each other)

For fun ig here is an excerpt below the cut

Davrin makes it all the way to the kitchen, hoping that enough dried meat and vegetables have been left out. It's not that Davrin much minds waking the assassin in the pantry, it's more so that he doesn’t have the energy for snark at the moment.

“Can’t sleep?”

The Warden starts, kicking himself for not scanning the room first. He turns to find Rook curled up on the sofa in the corner of the room. There’s a small stack of books on the table before her, and a quill twirls between her nimble fingers. A notebook is balanced against her thighs, and there's a smattering of parchment on the table and the floor.

“I see that I’m not alone,” he remarks rather gruffly, throat still thick with sleep.

She gives a small smile before her eyes fall back to the work at hand, “In the Lighthouse, you never are.”

Davrin smiles to himself as he pulls out some salted meat. Silence falls, marked by the occasional fluttering of Assan's wings, the scratch of Rook’s quill and the semi-regular scrapes of a kitchen knife on the butcher block. It’s nice, almost mundane.

He frowns over at Assan briefly before deciding to follow Taash’s advice. He adds a bit of yam to the dish, reasoning that it’s less offensive than broccoli. Hoping that maybe Assan’ll be too hungry to notice.

He sets the dish down for Assan, who leaps after it as though he really is starving. A cursory glance shows that Rook is now immersed in her work. What she could be working on is rather unclear, though with Rook he’s learned it’s always something. Studying Neve’s case notes, Taash’s dragon fighting tips and a combination of Bellara and Emmrich’s fade research. Not a woman who knows how to do nothing. It’s something he admires about her, even if it makes them all worry.

Davrin watches a moment longer, and then turns to the cabinet behind him, retrieving the decanter of amber liquid he knows will be there. Just an excuse, really.

“Can I tempt you?” He calls across the divide, and she glances up. She spies the whiskey in his hand, and she gives a bit of a sly smile.

Rook points to a clay mug amidst her other things on the table, “I’ve got it covered.”

“Doesn’t look like whiskey.”

She sighs, lifting the mug to take a sip. “Lucanis made me cioccolata calda. Said it would help me sleep. Apparently he’s worried I’m not doing that enough.” She scoffs at the obvious irony, but he spies a fond smile in the moments before the mug hides it from view.

“I’m sure he’s getting his beauty sleep,” Davrin drawls, just a hair too loud.

“He’s with Neve, actually.” she says slyly.

Davrin raises an eyebrow, “Not sleeping, then.”

“I should hope not.” Rook grins.

He crosses the space between them, pausing by the coffee table.

Her dark waves are pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, but several pieces of it have come loose around her face. From here, he can see the raised scar along her throat, his eyes snag on it for just a moment, curiosity eating at him. Her fingers are ink-stained, despite the Lighthouse’s self-inking quills—which they were all delighted to discover. The only light in the room comes from the hearth and an elf-lantern on the side table. Even in the darkness, the shadows under her eyes are prominent. She looks tired, but he knows that telling her to rest will do no good.

“Want some company?” He offers instead.

Rook sets her mug back on the table, glancing up only briefly. He suspects that she doesn’t really see him at all before she waves an airy hand, “You should get some rest.” She consults her notes and then retrieves an opened book lying face-down on the table.

He shakes his head at her, “Do you ever take a break?”

“Do you?” She challenges, arching an eyebrow at him.

“At least I sleep.”

Rook’s lips curl upward as her eyes fall back on the pages at hand, “Current circumstances would beg to differ.”

Davrin narrows his eyes. He can't exactly argue that point at this exact moment. “Well,” he sits on the opposite end of the sofa, pulling some of her notes toward him. “Seeing as I’m awake.”

The notes, after only a cursory glance, seem to be from the Crows—namely Teia. It's a list, everything that needs to be addressed after the dragon attack, everything they’ve failed to fix. One that’s far too long. Of the entire list, only Southern Gate is crossed out, which Davrin can only hope means that it’s been resolved.

There’s a second page in Rook’s own handwriting, the loops of her penmanship more delicate than he would have expected. This one is more than a list. There are a few titles listed, and then a note to ask Bellara to catalog Solas’s library. Questions about how the blight is spread, concerns about the taint spreading through the water, how to treat wounds from darkspawn without spreading the taint further. Seems as though Davrin’s the perfect person to help with this, not that she’d ever ask. The thought almost makes him smile.

“Assan keeping you up?”

Davrin snorts, “He certainly doesn’t help.” He frowns at the notes. Rolls his neck to escape the song still weaving its way between his ears, “But…no.”

One of the side effects of the taint, the nightmares. Davrin’s grown used to it. But recently…

In the past, the dreams were mostly visions of darkspawn hordes marching through the deep roads, digging, hissing—and always the song. Horrible in their own way, but such is the way of things. The nightmares always woke him, but more often than not, he only rolled over to go right back to sleep.

Recently though, the dreams have been different. The one that comes back most often is one where Davrin is sprinting through a forest. It's Arlathan, though he’s not sure how he knows it, because it never seems familiar. He has to cut down darkspawn, slips through blight pools and cuts himself free from the tendrils tearing at him. And he’s always hurtling toward Assan, whose cries of distress never get any closer.

He looks toward the hearth, where he knows Assan is, though he can’t see him.

“You know,” Rook says, “If I have to talk, I think you do, too.”

Davrin’s eyes slide over to her. Rook’s quill paused on a page. There’s a hint of amusement in the curve of her mouth, but her eyes are narrowed on him as if she can read him, too. But it isn’t the same. The nightmares, it’s just something he lives with. They’re just dreams.

“Should I go get some firewood?” she prompts.

Davrin snorts, “Why? So I can watch you struggle to split it some more?”

Rook’s mouth drops open in obvious shock and insult, but even that can’t hide the spark of amusement in her eyes, “I wasn’t exactly given much instruction. I think I did alright considering I've never had to split wood before.”

“Yeah,” he shoots her a dry look, but he can’t entirely hide his smirk, “That much was obvious.”

Rook kicks a foot at him, laughing. But Davrin catches her by the ankle and pulls until her back is on the cushion and she’s lost all leverage. She hadn’t done so terribly, though she’d struggled a great deal to extract the blade the first few times. But she hadn’t faltered nonetheless, and he respected that. Even if he had wanted to laugh, just a little.

Rook scowls at him, but she’s clearly struggling to contain her laughter, “Da’ava mamala,”

He stares at her for a long minute, perplexed.

Before this very moment, he’d never heard her speak elvhen, or even attempt it. Not that she’d had any reason to. Davrin didn’t speak it much himself anymore, hadn’t for years—save for with the occasional Dalish clan he ran across, or the even more rare Dalish Wardens.

Growing up in Tevinter, he’d assumed she wouldn’t know much of the language, if any. Though maybe that was a poor assumption on his part. Even in the cities, most elves spoke a bit of it—though he’s also heard that slave owners in Tevinter dislike it for obvious reasons. It occurs to Davrin that he knows very little about her life before all this. But then, he’s sure she’d hate it if he asked.

He pulls her closer to him by her ankle, and she does try to maintain her disdain as he slots himself between her legs, leaning over her with a grin. “Well that’s very rude.” He says, though he can only assume it was meant to be. “Where’d you learn that?”

She gives a satisfied little smirk, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

His eyebrows flick upward, “I would, actually. No one’s ever told me they wanted a little taste of my grandmother.” The laugh that he’d almost let out finally escapes at the flash of surprise over her face.

She frowns, “Kiss my ass?”

“Dhava ‘ma masa.” He corrects, grinning widely.

“It’s been a long time.” she winces.

Davrin hums his understanding, still amused, and wondering just how much elvhen she doesn’t know, “Then I take it Bellara didn’t teach you that.”

A roll of her eyes, “No.”

“Good,” he grins down at her, “You’re better off coming to me for the dirty stuff, anyway.”

They’re both still smiling in the moments before he slants his mouth over hers. The book on her lap slides to the floor, her notes crinkle between their bodies and the feather of her quill tickles the tip of his ear, sending a shudder down his spine.

Her legs wrap around his waist, and she rolls her hips against his once, like she can’t help it. One of his hands slides over the outside of her thigh until he has a handful of her ass. It’s been less than a day, and vaguely he’s aware that he shouldn’t want her this badly already. He trails kisses over her jaw, grazing his teeth over her earlobe in the way that makes her arch into him. Davrin licks and sucks his way down her throat, along the scar there.

He slides a hand between them, working the first two buttons of her shirt open.

“Not here.” she gasps, her legs still hooked around his waist, cheeks slightly flushed.

“Why not?” he murmurs against her throat.

It takes her a moment to respond, as though she almost doesn’t want to.

“I’m the boss.” she says at last, sounding resigned to it. Davrin pulls back enough to look at her. “I can’t be caught with my bits out.” He arches an eyebrow at her and she tries to stifle her grin. “I’ve made one exception. That’s more than enough.”

“Should we take this to my room then?” He offers, blood already warm and trousers growing tight. Gods, what he wouldn’t give to be inside her right now.

Rook laughs breathily, and then bites at the inside of her lip. She’s considering it, and he sees in her face that she’s going to give in. She needs a respite, anyway.

A squawk breaks through the haze, and Davrin groans, sitting back up to find Assan looking on reproachfully.

If, by some coincidence, this is familiar it may be because this chapter was already posted to ao3

[seigeocs]

Finn Aldwir

Name: Finn Aldwir, formerly Lavellan

Age: 25

Faction: Veil Jumpers

Class: Rogue

Specialization: Veil Ranger

Weapon: Bow More Screenshots: Regular, Bellara and Finn, and more

Quirks: Finn is desperate to get out from the shadow of his mother.  He changed his name, dyed his hair, and refused to take any vallaslin.  He likes to play a guitar in his downtime and knows all of the songs Maryden taught him at Skyhold.  He picked up a few more traveling with the Veil Jumpers.  He is not happy when Varric contacts him in Arlathan Forest to find Solas.  He is double unhappy when he realizes he is now stuck with Solas.

Relationships with others:

Inquisitor Lavellan: That is his mother.  They have a complicated relationship because even after everything Solas did, his mother refused to kill Solas.  She wanted to make him see reason and Finn couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to stop Solas.  As soon as he turned eighteen he left.  He’s got lots of complicated feelings surrounding his mother.

Solas: Finn never lets a day go by that he doesn’t let Solas feel his ire.  At first Solas didn’t recognize him, it had been so long and Finn was no longer that teenage boy desperate for approval.  Once Solas realized who he was their relationship was icy at best.  Finn wanted to stop Solas, but he was also so angry at Solas for hurting his mother.  No matter how mad he was at Roisin, he knew she did not deserve what Solas had done to her.  Maybe they’ll finally get along, maybe not.  They come to a mutual understanding eventually that they need to work together to save the world. Finn never quite forgives the betrayals from Solas in the end.

Varric Tethras: Finn respects the dwarf but repeatedly tells him that he needs to retire.  Roisin can handle looking for Solas but he gets ignored.  Finn thinks of him as the uncle that will spring you from mom’s punishment.  So he has a good relationship with Varric. It devastates him when he learns the truth of what happens to Varric.

Bellara: He's in love with this woman. Absolutely, head over heels, fool in love with her. He's skittish because he's got some issues with abandonment, but he'll pull through for her. Finn regrets keeping his family a secret from her when she finally figures out who his mother is. They overcome it and grow together.

Emmrich: Finn honestly does not get necromancy, but he respects the hell out of Emmrich. To get to his level requires dedication and patience, of which Finn lacks a heap of. He's still a little formal around Emmrich, but does like the man.

Lucanis: Finn and Lucanis get along splendidly, as do Finn and Spite. They found common ground and a love of coffee (something Finn picked up while at Skyhold). He makes sure Lucanis gets whatever coffee and groceries he needs.

Neve: Finn and Neve get along splendidly. He earns her trust back after the major decision early in the game. It takes him a bit, but he manages to show her that he really is there for his friends. That she can count on him.

Taash: Finn and Taash are two peas in a pod when it comes to causing trouble. They are always there for Finn and Finn returns the favor. Especially when Taash is figuring out what they want from themselves. They have a cheerleader in Finn.

Davrin: They disagree on how to face the world a bit, but they have a good relationship. Though Davrin chastises Finn for spoiling Assan a little too much. They carve wood together but whereas Davrin carves monsters, Finn likes to carve animals.

Harding: Harding was so surprised when Finn revealed who he was, and she did remember him once he said his former last name. They get along just as well as they did back in Inquisition. They both share a love of greenery and Finn makes sure that Harding has all she needs with it. He looks to her like an older sister, just like back then.