#i love that warden rook has a history with them

[mayhemforlace]

🪽As a Grey Warden, you're friends with fellow Wardens Evka and Antoine.

[fangsandfeels]

"Everyone gets along because there is a threat", yadda, yadda, yadda.

Bullshit. This is not how real scenarios work and it has never been.

russia is a global threat right now, but the world can't decide between sucking its dick and politely asking it to stop because the mere thought of confronting russia makes it shit its pants. The very few countries who scream into the void, warning about russia and telling people to wake the fuck up are ignored and viewed as crazy doomsayers.

This is how real crisis looks like. Nobody works together against a threat because people are spineless cowards who would rather throw their neighbors under the bus than fight. Nobody learned anything from history lessons, books or survivors.

The only difference in a fantasy game is that NPCs end up having more spine and moral principles than real people.

But in Veilguard, everyone gets along because they have NO reasons not to.

Davrin has no real reasons to beef (if you can call it that) with Lucanis because he is a Grey Warden. He knows where Grey Wardens take their conscripts from. He knows that Grey Wardens regularly recruit mages who are a lot more likely to get possessed if they're not careful. Working with an assassin who knows friend from foe isn't the worst thing ever. One subtle warning about taking action if demon takes over is enough.

Taash has no reasons to antagonize Emmrich aside from horrible writing.

Neve gets along with Bellara because writers gave Bellara a happy childhood with her family and turned Dalish artifacts into Apple store gadgets, while refusing giving Neve any nuance as the citizen of Tevinter.

Emmrich gets along with everyone because he is generally a kind and well-mannered person who doesn't like to stir the pot.

Any companion who could have had a sharp edge, got that edge ripped off and a cartoon band-aid slapped on.

Never doesn't deal with people who don't know about Shadow Dragons (and they probably shouldn't know much because when you work against a powerful government who wants to destroy you, you shouldn't show off), so she constantly has to deal with the fact that people assume she is a noble or a slave-owner because she is from Tevinter; that they don't know that she had to literally fight against being enslaved herself because in Tevinter mages who refuse to use their power to dominate others are turned into slaves as well.

Bellara isn't conflicted about working with humans, especially Tevinter humans at all. She seems to never have dealt with oppression her whole life and she is super quick to write off Cyrian as evil even though there are clear SIGNS that he was tricked and controlled by the Forgotten One. But no, she never thinks "He is still there, I can save him, I won't lose him again", she goes straight to "Oh nooo my brother is dead to me".

Emmrich doesn't get burdened by people reacting to him and his sincere intention to help with fear, because of all the sinister rumors revolving around necromancers and Nevarra. He isn't hurt by people assuming that he loves death and things dying. If even he openly admitted that he is deeply terrified of death, they wouldn't have believed him.

Harding isn't burdened by the revelation she learned and what to do with it. Should she storm her way to the Orzammar? Should she talk to fellow surface dwarves and reconnect them with their history? Should she never breach the subject because the truth hurts and it's too much pain, too much anger to live with - and maybe she shouldn't let other dwarves go through it?

We don't even have a party divided on what to do with Solas (kill or talk it out)? Even though it's logical to have companions who are convinced that Solas has to die and those who think that he is misguided and can be convinced to stop.

Also, there are NO companions whose background, viewpoints and attitude would rile other companions up. We have no controversial characters whose interactions with the crew Rook would have been forced to intervene in unless they want their team to start throwing hands with each other.

We could have had Imshael - to give EVERYONE a reason to worry, and argue, and have conflicts. We could have had an ex-Venatori Calpernia bashing heads with Neve, Bellara, and Emrich. We could have had a Qunari spy who'd make Lucanis' dagger-arm itch.

If writers didn't forget about the Architect, we could have had an intelligent Darkspawn companion Davrin could be losing his shit around.

Or heck, we could have had a former red templar who got partially (magically?) reversed from their mad state and is now not a mindless beast, but still is on a borrowed time, probably needed due to their strength, but barely tolerated by anyone.

Who is fanatical, mostly because they have to believe they made a noble sacrifice, that it all was for the greater good -- because the truth scares them to their core. Who gives Lucanis shit for being an assassin and abomination, who bashes necromancy, and mages, and talks about purity, while downplaying their own actions as "Yes, these are my sins, but they are for the better world, and I would be proud to die for that world unlike you heathens who would rather ruin it than repent for your flaws". The kind of companion you'd initially want to do nothing with, but who can reveal an entire gallery of fucked up contradictions and trauma if you decide to keep them around.

However, writing such companions takes skill, courage, and requires absence of greedy corpo "we don't want to scare away new players with all that moral nuance" thinking.

[felassan]

Polygon article.

Rest of post under a cut due to length and possible spoilers.

“I’ll say one of the greatest challenges of this game, but also one of the most enjoyable things, was, How do the Dalish react when their gods are out in the world and rampaging?” creative director John Epler told Polygon. It seems that across the board every Dalish elf in the game pretty much rejects their risen gods now that they’ve shown their true hand. Two of Rook’s companions, elven historian Bellara Lutare and Grey Warden Davrin, come from Dalish clans themselves and even though they’re a little shaken about confronting their gods, they’re not conflicted about doing so. In fact, among Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain’s lackeys and puppets, there’s not a single elf to be found. Epler said that it’s vindication for the Dalish — which is nice to see considering how they’ve been portrayed in past games. “Dragon Age has not always been the kindest to the Dalish,” he said. “Somebody once made a joke to me, and it’s not untrue, that it’s possible to wipe out a Dalish clan in all three of the games in some way.” In Origins, siding with the werewolves in the Brecilian Forest quest leads to the clan being destroyed. In Dragon Age 2, if you defend your companion Merrill’s blood magic usage, her clan attacks you and must be killed. And in Dragon Age: Inquisition, if you’re playing as an elven Inquisitor, you can accidentally kill your clan by picking the wrong options in the War Table mission. It’s not easy being a Dalish elf in Thedas. Still, though, why haven’t any Dalish elves decided to join forces with their gods? As Epler put it, the gods simply don’t care about them. They’re looking for followers in other places. Even though the end of Dragon Age: Inquisition’s Trespasser DLC revealed that Solas had amassed a network of elven agents, they weren’t going to be swayed. “Solas’ agents were never there for power,” Epler said. “They were there for a sense of identity and a purpose. And I would say that it’s fair that Fen’Harel probably bent the truth to them when he was doing his recruiting pitch — the part where he says ‘I’m going to destroy the world’ at the end of Trespasser [was] not what he was telling them.” Solas’ agents are almost jarringly absent from The Veilguard, with barely any mention of how far and wide they spread in the years prior to the game. But they do have very good reason for not being the ones joining up with the gods. “Those blighted, decrepit gods, they’re not bothering with the soft pitch,” Epler explained. “Their pitch is, We’re going to make a horrible world. We’re going to give you a lot of power, and maybe you’ll be OK.” On a more meta note, the Dalish just needed an in-game win. It’s refreshing that Bellara and Davrin get to honor their culture and also not be ostracized from it and possibly forced to kill their clan, as was the case with Merrill in Dragon Age 2. And instead of being accidentally (or purposely!) killed off by the player character, the Dalish elves in The Veilguard get to righteously rally against the mages that they once called gods and reclaim part of their history. “I love that the Dalish in this game, by and large, are saying, No, we were lied to. We were the first victims of these gods. We’re going to fight back,” Epler said. “And they really get a sense to kind of rise up in this game and start establishing themselves in this way that in the future I can’t wait to go back to, but in this game gives them a sense of a win. They get a victory in how they respond to the threat of the gods in this game.”

[source]

[stankhole]

predictions for veilguard romances under the cut. would love to hear what you guys think will happen with the characters

davrin

confident and seems like the type that would immediately flirt back

would use assan playing cute as a way to pick up dates

later you find out the sad reasoning behind why he left his clan & joined the wardens

taash

her wearing armor reminiscent of the shokra-taar/antaam-saar makes me think she’s a qunari still following the qun

she’s initially only interested in a physical relationship and has to work through her upbringing under the qun to become comfortable with a romantic relationship

wants to ride rook’s bones to dust after they take down a dragon the first time

harding

she feels like she has an obligation to the inquisition/rook/varric/whatever organization she’s a part of so she’s initially hesistant to enter into a relationship. she’s been a forward scout for so long she’s used to being all work and no play so when you flirt with her she enjoys it but doesn’t take it too seriously, she’s been traveling with varric recently so she’s used to it after all

she’s also confused because of the magical powers she gains and is afraid of hurting rook since she can’t control them

you help her get control of her magic/figure out where it’s from and you bone

lucanis

virgin

been raised to be a perfect assassin so he doesn’t know what to do when someone shows genuine interest in him

since he was raised to take over as the next talon, he’s used to having his life planned out for him so when he gets the freedom of making his own choices he doesn’t really know what to do

final romance flag is either after he tells his grandmother he doesn’t want to be the new talon or after his cousin finds out he’s not dead

please let him mention zevran, even if just in passing

bellara

sunny and goofball personality, likes to make their lover laugh

very intelligent, a big history nerd and would love to take you to romantic places in arlathan and give romantic ancient gifts

thrill seeker, first kiss scene happens after doing something reckless, be that a veil jump or boss fight

emmrich

grandpa thinks he’s too old for you and you deserve someone younger, but when you don’t back down you realize that peepaw absolutely ~ f u c k s ~

married to his job for the past 30 years, his only friends are his skeletal assistants

manfred will absolutely walk in on you two getting busy at some point

i hope desire demons make a comeback and show up in his story

somehow knows cassandra; is like her 5th uncle 3 times removed

neve

knows what she wants and isn’t going to hesitate if you show interest in her

but will not be fully invested in the relationship aspect at first because of her cynicism. eventually comes around when she realizes how devoted you are to making minrathous/the world a better place

has worked with dorian/ dorian is an informant for her

god bioware please give her a dwarven strap that matches her prosthetic. she’d be unstoppable 🙏🏻

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 10: Blame Everyone But Me For This Mess]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, violence, serious injury, alcoholism/addiction, references to sexual content (18+), Aemond-induced chaos, death and destruction, witchcraft! 🔮

Series title is a lyrics from: “7 Minutes In Heaven” by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “I’ve Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth” by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 6.2k.

Link to chapter list: HERE.

Taglist (more in comments): @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauraneedstochill @not-a-glad-gladiator @daenysx @babyblue711 @arcielee @at-a-rax-ia @bhanclegane @jvpit3rs @padfooteyes @marvelescvpe @travelingmypassion @darkenchantress @yeahright0h @poohxlove @trifoliumviridi @bloodyflowerrr @fan-goddess @devynsficrecs @flowerpotmage @thelittleswanao3 @seabasscevans @hiraethrhapsody @libroparaiso @echos-muses @st-eve-barnes @chattylurker @lm-txles @vagharnaur @moonlightfoxx @storiumemporium @insabecs @heliosscribbles @beautifulsweetschaos @namelesslosers @partnerincrime0 @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @yawneneytiri @marbles-posts @imsolence @maidmerrymint @backyardfolklore @nimaharchive @anxiousdaemon @under-the-aspen-tree @amiraisgoingthruit @dd122004dd @randomdragonfires @jetblack4real @joliettes

Only 3 chapters left! 🥰💜

“Aemond!” he roars into the cerulean midday sky, knowing it is useless, that fate has already spoken.

All his life, fate has proven Criston Cole wrong. He once believed he could not rise above being born to a steward in the Dornish Marches. He once feared he would never be permitted to join the Kingsguard. He once felt in his twisting, self-loathing guts that he would never love any woman but Rhaenyra. And Criston once knew—without reservation, without complexity—that Alicent’s eldest son would never amount to anything worthwhile, could never be courageous, self-sacrificial, competent, a true king. Each time, fate had a different ending in store.

All around him, Green soldiers are dying in what will be known to history as the Butcher’s Ball. They are being slit open, disemboweled, crushed beneath the hooves of warhorses, stabbed and clubbed and speared. The Northmen have scorpions with them as well, with massive bolts to bring down dragons; but they are unnecessary. There are no dragons on the battlefield today.

Criston pictures Aemond as a boy, always so sullen, always so dutiful. He read and he wrote and he sparred in the castle courtyard until the blisters on his palms burst and bled and then turned to callouses, knots of dead-nerved scar tissue that grew over his wounds but never cured them. Criston did not just believe in Aemond’s abilities, his honor; he was certain of these things, he carried them as interminably as the lines in his palms. Criston knew Aemond and Vhagar would be the saviors of the Greens in this war. He knew Aemond would be here.

But he’s not. He’s just not, and there’s nothing I can do to bring him.

Cregan Stark is cutting through the Greens’ men. He is not a soldier, he is a force of nature, he is a thunderstorm or a famine or a rogue wave, he is winter coming to rip the trees bare and bury the weak in frostbitten earth. Arrows are loosed by the Northmen’s archers, lethal hissing rain. One hits Criston in the shoulder of his sword arm. Another pierces him through the small of his back, severing his spinal cord and dropping him to his knees.

Through the fray, Cregan sees the Kingmaker. He wants him, he wants Criston’s blood on his blade, his hands, his face; and what the Warden of the North wants, he is never denied.

Alicent, Criston thinks, and he remembers her lying in bed after giving birth to Aegon. She was a girl, just a girl, pale, sick, in terrible and unspoken pain, never the same in body, forever darker in mind, alone in a room full of tapestries of her husband’s house as the court celebrated her newborn son. She knew she had been used. She knew this was her life and always would be, a wheel that goes around and around and crushes the same bones until they stop mending, until the misery and desperation becomes so much a part of you that you could almost forget it’s there. It’s your shadow, it’s your religion, it’s a sigil or a ring.

I suppose now I have something to live for, Alicent had said, and Criston sat on the edge of the bed took her small, cold hand in his own. He raised her knuckles to his lips and answered: I swear to you that I will always protect him. That I will never let him die.

Here in the Riverlands as Cregan Stark descends upon him, Criston looks up again and sunlight spills over his face, warm and kind and golden; but the sky is still empty.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the gardens of Dragonstone, on a bench carved out of gloom-grey basalt, you pull Aegon’s legs into your lap and roll up his loose cotton trousers to inspect them: scars that have knit shut the gashes bones once cut through, muscle mass that is slowly building itself back again, good circulation, able to carry him if only for short, hard-fought distances. You have bled twice since Aemond flew back to the Riverlands to seize Harrenhal. Here under flinty autumn skies and pine trees that sway in brisk wind that smells like saltwater and metal, you think that perhaps the earth is done giving things. This is the time for harvests, not blooms. This is the season of endings, long nights full of cold stars, firelight, reaping.

“Stop,” Aegon says gently. He’s clutching a thick wool blanket around his shoulders. He’s always cold now, pale and shivering. His silvery hair hangs in untamed waves around his face adored with only a single small braid that you weave for him each day. “I don’t want you to do it.”

No; he only wants the maesters to see his weakness, his suffering. “I like taking care of you. It’s the only thing I’m good at. It’s how we met, remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Now he smiles. “I have no idea what you saw in me.”

“An exemplary cock, mostly. Better than any in my medical books.”

Aegon laughs, a sound you rarely get to hear anymore. Then he is grave again. His hair blows in the gales that roll in off the ocean; his eyes, a tumultuous blue like waves in a storm, are ringed by shadows. “Angel, listen to me.” He places a hand over yours where it rest on a knot of scar tissue just below his kneecap. “If I don’t…” He pauses, and you think as you look at him: He’s nothing but scars now, he’s nothing but pain that is calloused over but never forgotten. “If I’m not here when the war is over, I want you to know that you’ll still be protected. Aemond knows. Larys knows. You are to be provided for. You will reside only where and with whom you choose to.”

“Why wouldn’t you be here?”

Aegon shrugs, avoiding your gaze. “We should be realistic.”

“You’ll be here. You have to be.”

Aegon stares into a thicket of rose bushes, blood-red petals and twisted thorns. And he says faintly, like something a strong wind could carry away: “I’ll try.”

“We’re winning, Aemond and Criston and Daeron and the Greens’ armies. They might have won already and we’re just waiting to hear the words. Aemond will end the war and then we’ll all be together again in King’s Landing.”

Aegon gives you a wry smirk as you roll back down the legs of his trousers, concealing his roadmap of harm. “A man like Cregan Stark would not be such a disappointment. He would be able to ride into battle. He would not have compelled you to bloody your own hands. He would not be feeble and deformed.”

“It can’t be anyone but you.”

Overhead, half-shrouded in mist, there is an immense reptilian shadow and a rumbling like the earth splitting in two, cracked and forced apart by eruptions of steam, lava, trapped toxic heat. Gingerly, Aegon returns his boots to the earth, stony and barren. He winces and groans before he can bite it back to hide it from you.

“I’ll go,” you tell Aegon, skimming your fingers through his hair and touching your lips to his temple. His wave-blue eyes are watery, grateful. “Stay here. I’ll bring him to you.”

You hurry through corridors and down spiral staircases, watched by dragons of iron and stone with fire burning in their mouths. And of course, there is more than one reason why you want to greet Aemond by yourself. You don’t know what he will say to you; you don’t know if he’s still angry. But when he strides through the entranceway of the castle to meet you—his hair in one long white-blond braid, his black coat billowing around him in the sharp wind—he is not alone.

There is a woman with him.

“…Aemond?” you say, staring at her: hair like onyx, skin like snow. She grins at you beneath eyes that are pools of ink, dark and glassy and with hardly any whites. You do not believe she intends to unnerve you; still, there is a blade-cold shudder that tumbles down the rungs of your spine.

Aemond replies with pride that is hushed, pure: “This is my wife.”

“Your…?” You cannot look away from her. Her gown is black lace with long, dragging sleeves and a train that curls around her like a dragon’s tail. You can see glimpses of her starlight skin through the fabric, her forearms, her waist, her thigh. Isn’t she cold? You are wearing heavy velvet, pine green like Aegon’s banner, and still the impending winter needles at you. “Who…?”

Lord Larys Strong arrives, his cane tapping on the stone floor. When he sees the woman, he jolts to a halt and gawks. “Alys?”

“Hello, brother.” Her voice is deep, smooth, melodic. She speaks the language of ocean currents, roots in dark fertile soil, the revolving of the stars.

You turn to Larys. “Who is this?”

“A bastard daughter of my father,” Larys answers, slow and disbelieving. “Alys Rivers. She…she was at Harrenhal, last I saw her…years ago…”

“And now she is here with me,” Aemond says. “She is precisely where she belongs.”

Silence fills the room, the world, the space that has opened up between you and Aemond. Wife? Bastard? Harrenhal? At last, you manage shakily: “Aegon is in the gardens. He’s waiting for you.”

“Good,” Aemond says. He wears something you have never seen on him before: not just pride but serenity, consolation, contentment. “There is much to discuss.”

As slate-grey wind whistles through rose thorns and cranberry bushes, you and Larys step out into the gardens with your uninvited guests. Aegon’s eyes snag on Alys, widen, and then dart to you. He mouths: Who the fuck is that? You shrug, bewildered.

Aemond says: “Allow me to present my wife, Lady Alys Rivers of Harrenhal.”

“Your wife?!” Aegon exclaims, like he couldn’t possible have heard correctly. “Your wife?!”

“Yes.” Aemond’s arm snakes around Alys’ waist. She folds into him, palm to his chest, lips to his throat, something creeping and boneless like ivy or mist or smoke. “You’ve had two now. I’ve only just found mine.”

“Rivers,” Aegon echoes incredulously. “A bastard from the Riverlands.”

Larys notes: “One of my father’s natural children.”

“A Strong bastard?!” Aegon cackles and looks to Larys. “Where is Daeron presently? Can he be summoned here? He should see this.”

“It is no jest, Your Grace,” Aemond says calmly. “It is a true pairing of souls.”

“And you were not at liberty to give yours. You have to marry Borros Baratheon’s daughter. That was the deal, that’s why he has pledged his army to us.”

“Daeron can do it.”

“Daeron won’t be old enough to marry for years, and that’s not the point! This is a slight, an egregious slight, to reject a Baratheon noblewoman in favor of a…a…what was she, a serving wench? A wetnurse? What happened to your pathological obsession with self-righteous duty? And why aren’t you and Vhagar with Criston?! Is this what you’ve been doing for the past six weeks while I was trapped here, suffering and useless? You’ve been hiding in the crumbling towers of Harrenhal with your so-called wife? What was so fucking crucial that it kept you from the battlefield—?!”

“She carries my son,” Aemond says.

A gasp spills from you before you can silence it; Lord Larys covers his mouth with one hand. Aegon stares numbly at his brother, not warring with envy or spite but raw astonishment. This is an asset to the Greens, it is a detriment, it lifts a burden from his shoulders, it imperils all of you. “You have no way of knowing what it is yet.”

“I know. We know.”

“And why have you flown to Dragonstone?” Aegon demands. “To torment me with your disobedience, to illustrate so vividly how all that relentless, calculated striving has finally cracked your brain in half—?!”

“No.” Aemond glances to you. “Something has happened. And I wanted to be here in person to deliver the news and…express my condolences.”

“Condolences?” you say, fearful, alarmed.

“Lord Larys will not have received word yet,” Aemond continues. “It has only just transpired. But Alys has seen it.”

Aegon shakes his head. He doesn’t understand. “Seen it…?”

“She sees things. The future, the past. Not every detail, but some of them. She’s seen Mother in the Red Keep, a prisoner but still alive. She’s seen Jaehaera safe and well at Storm’s End. The child has a protector, though Alys isn’t sure who.”

“She’s a witch?” Aegon says flatly. “This bastard Strong woman that you have taken to wife is, among all her other deficiencies, a witch?”

And Alys answers in a voice like the night sky, dark but threaded with glimmers of stars, moonshine, comets: “I am a woman who lives between two worlds. Your Angel is much the same, I think.”

Aegon blinks at her, not entranced or awed but fighting the instinct to flinch away.

“There have been riots in King’s Landing,” Aemond says.

“Yes, obviously. Everyone is aware of that. I think the Wildlings north of the Wall have heard.”

Aemond ignores the jab. “The Master of Coin, Lord Bartimos Celtigar, was travelling through the city in a carriage when…” He trails off, uneasy. He glances at you again. His sole remaining eye—river-blue and without any malice—shimmers with grim compassion.

“What?” you say. “What happened?”

Aemond speaks to Aegon in words you cannot comprehend, swift ageless High Valyrian.

Aegon sighs testily. “Slower. Enunciate.”

Aemond tries again. Aegon repeats a certain word, unable to decipher it. Aemond offers him several others, what you can only assume are synonyms.

Aegon’s face goes even paler, the last of the blood draining out of his cheeks. Then he reaches out a hand to you. “Come here,” he beckons softly.

“Why?”

“Angel, come here now.”

“They killed him, didn’t they?” you ask Aemond. Your voice is trembling, icy, choked. He was an architect of Rhaenyra’s war effort, but he was your father first. He was a beast with blood on his hands, but now you are too. “The common people hate Rhaenyra and they hate my family. So they murdered him.”

Alys says: “They did not just murder him.” And she is not taunting you, though she grins like she might be; she has lost pieces of what it means to be human. She is no longer fluent in anything as trite as sympathy or decorum. Her obsidian eyes gleam, polished, glowing. Her long black hair blows in the wind. There are raven feathers in it, you notice now, and twigs, pine needles, earth, sand, ashes. “They bound and tortured him, they sliced off parts of him to keep as relics, they rode on horseback through the streets swinging his severed head and cock as they celebrated an end to all taxes—”

“Will you shut the fuck up?!” Aegon shouts at her. “Angel, please, come here.”

“Your brother was there too,” Aemond says solemnly.

Yes, of course he would be. He was always Father’s favorite. “Clement,” you whimper, pressing a palm to your chest. Your lungs burn as they drink down chill autumn air that cuts like a blade.

“No,” Aemond says. “The other one.”

“What?” No. No, that can’t be true.

“Not Clement,” Aemond insists. “It was the other brother. The burned man.”

No. No no no. I can’t believe it, I won’t believe it.

“Angel,” Aegon pleads, still reaching for you.

“Everett,” Alys says, dreamy, not knowing how cruel it feels, like splinters of glass beneath your skin instead of arteries and muscle, like shattered bones. “He was not difficult for them to catch. He could not run.”

Your words escape in a hoarse whisper. “I don’t believe you.”

Alys offers her hands. They are long, lithe, white like a skeleton’s. “Would you like to see?”

“No.”

“I can show you. Then you will trust what I say.”

“Alys, my love,” Aemond warns.

“No, you’re a liar,” you snarl at her. “You’re not a witch, you’re not some prophet, you’re just a liar and I don’t believe you—!”

And before you can flee she’s crossed the space between you, she’s gripped your wrist with those slender claw-like fingers, she’s pouring her magic into you like poison down a prisoner’s throat. The vision surges into your skull and fills it, sight and sound and scent: Everett screaming as he is dragged from the carriage, the hoard ripping at his clothes and his eyes, dull kitchen knives pulled from pockets, the coppery ether of blood in the air. You can feel the feverish heat of the crowd. You can feel their boiling-over animal rage. You can feel everything, but you can’t stop it.

Beyond the grisly mirage, you can hear yourself shrieking, muffled and distant; and you can hear someone else bellowing for Alys to let you go. Her hand is yanked off of your wrist and you are abruptly back in the gardens of Dragonstone surrounded by indomitable flora that warps and tangles and endures. You are kneeling on the cobblestones, tears flooding from your eyes. Aegon is on the ground with you, his arms circling around your waist. He is calling Alys a bitch, a monster, a demon. He is threatening to feed her to his dragon.

“Forgive me,” Alys says to you, peering down with a vague sort of regret etching lines into her brow. “I did not intend to cause any distress. I only meant to help you understand.”

Aegon seethes at Aemond: “Take your witch back to Harrenhal.”

“No,” you protest; and Aegon studies you, puzzled, as you gaze up at Alys, this half-human phantom that dwells between realms, something like a dark mirror image of an angel. “What else have you seen?” Tell me Aegon lives. Tell me the Greens win and we have a chance at a better world one day. Tell me this was all worth it.

“She has seen Daemon and Caraxes meeting me at the Gods Eye,” Aemond says. “She has seen me taking flight to join them in battle.”

Aegon is stunned. “When?”

“Soon. Three days from now.”

You sob, thinking of Everett; and Autumn too, wherever she is, who will reappear when the war is over searching for home but forever unable to find it. Aegon holds you and you pull yourself into him, arms slung around his neck. His silver hair brushes your face; his scarred right cheek is rough against yours. When you breathe in violent hitches, you inhale rose oil and wine and salt and warmth and misery, you taste the war that built him and now has returned to claim the debt.

“It’s Rhaenyra’s fault,” Aegon whispers, fierce and merciless. “We will kill Daemon and Cregan Stark. We will retake King’s Landing and capture Rhaenyra. And I swear to you that she will burn.”

Aemond is saying: “Do we have permission to stay the night or not? We’ve traveled a long way. My wife is tired, and so is Vhagar. Another flight so soon would tax her.”

“You can swim,” Aegon pitches back.

Lord Larys Strong—ever servile, ever composed—clears his throat, both hands resting on the handle of his cane. “Would anyone care for some soft-shelled crabs?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Mist hangs heavy over the castle the next morning, a cool metallic grey like steel; the sun is muted, only a wisp of itself, a memory that is swiftly fading. Alys Rivers stands in the surf fetching seashells and stones that she plinks into a basket. Locks of her long, wild hair dip into the roiling water and emerge sopping and heavy, sticking to her ink-black gown. Aegon is curled up with Sunfyre at the edge of the beach. The dragon breathes with rattling, labored heaves and Aegon pets his golden face, wishing the beast’s wings to knit themselves back together and his own legs to be strong again, murmuring to Sunfyre in some clumsy patchwork of High Valyrian and the Common Tongue to assure him that he’s served his king well.

You and Aemond walk down the windswept beach together, your boots sinking in wet sand and leaving imprints like bruises on flesh. Your gown is a deep, vibrant red like the sigil of the newly decimated House Celtigar; Aemond’s hair is wavy and damp and blows loose in the breeze. You are reminded of the night you shared with him six weeks ago, though you don’t want to be. Neither of you have mentioned that indiscretion. You believe you have silently agreed to forget it. You ask the prince regent: “How many people do you think you’ve burned in the Riverlands?”

“Why do you care? They’re not you. They’re not me.”

“Perhaps each life we take robs something from us as well. It carves a piece of the soul away and leaves it less than it was before.”

Aemond raises his eyebrow, intrigued.

“I am less than I once was,” you explain. “Acts of love feel like violence, violence is mistaken for love. Things that horrified me a year ago are now what give me solace when I dream of them. Vengeance, slaughter, fire and blood. Aegon grows more bitter, more ruthless. And so do you.”

“We will have the luxury of reforming ourselves when the war is won and Aegon is the undisputed king of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“If there’s any part of us that remembers who we were supposed to be.”

“I remember exactly who you were.” Aemond grins. “Fawning over Aegon, weaving braids into his hair. Scurrying around with your bandages and vinegar and honey. Always seeking to take his pain away. Always waging your own little war against the agony of mankind.”

“That feels like a different person,” you say, peering out over the ocean.

“We will build monuments to those we’ve lost,” Aemond promises. “Jaehaerys, Maelor, Otto. Your brother and my sister. You say you dream of fire and blood? I often find myself dreaming of Helaena.”

You turn to him, startled. And you recall the warnings her ghost gave Aegon before Baela and Moondancer arrived on Dragonstone: Don’t fall, don’t fall. “Does she say anything?”

“She keeps telling me I’ll lose my left eye.” Aemond smiles wistfully. “And I answer: Helaena, that’s happened already. But when I try to comfort her, when I try to embrace her, she turns away from me and says it’s too late. That I’ve ruined myself.” He walks with his hands linked behind his back, his face thoughtful but not brooding. “I still miss her,” he says. “And I still feel responsible. But things are easier now.”

You follow his eyeline to where Alys is plucking a starfish from the frothing waves and placing it in her basket. And doesn’t it make some strange bit of sense that Aemond’s match would be someone rare, bizarre, gifted in ways that are in equal parts mesmerizing and fearsome? “I’m glad you found someone who eases your burdens.”

“She has suffered tremendously. She knows what it is to be unloved and overlooked. She had to reinvent herself, just like I did. She had to shed her skin and step into a new one that she stitched together herself.”

“Perpetual Resurrection,” you say softly.

“Perpetual Resurrection,” Aemond agrees.

Now Alys is trekking up the beach to join you, her soaked hair whipping in the wind and her basket slung over one arm. From where he sits with Sunfyre, Aegon watches her with narrowed, disapproving eyes. “This belongs to the king,” Alys says to you, opening her hand. In her palm rests the ring of gold wings and jade eyes. “You should return it to him. He does not like me.”

You gasp and take the ring that you last saw before Aegon fell from the sky and shattered his legs, his spirit. “How did you find this?”

“It spoke to me. I spoke to it.” She smiles, more like a leer, though she does not mean it to be. Her eyes—onyx, jet, black moonstone—are bright with amusement. “See? You do not understand. Sometimes it is best not to ask.”

You slip the ring onto one of your fingers for safekeeping until you deliver it to Aegon. From the stone staircase that leads up to the castle’s main entrance, Larys waves Aemond over to him. Aemond kisses the woman he calls his wife farewell—a deep, burning kiss—and then departs. You say to Alys: “How did you become…like this?”

“I surrendered to it. Anyone can, if your life is hell and you are willing to burn it down to the foundations. You go deep into the swamp and then it goes into you. It grows through your skin and into your veins. It tangles up with you, vines climbing your ribcage and spine like ivy on a trellis. It changes you. It makes you greater than you were before. The victim becomes the victor. The weak turn watchful and wise.” She is gazing at where Aemond stands with Larys, exchanging theories and plots. Aemond shakes his head at something Larys says. “I always knew he would find me. The man whose fractured pieces fit with mine. Yet each time I thought I glimpsed him only to realize he wasn’t the one, I would think: How long must I wait? I have buried so many children. Will I ever have more? Will he come to me before it is too late? Is it too late already? But no, he flew to Harrenhal just as my hopes were giving out like a dry well. And Aemond was worth every second, minute, month, year. He was worth the beatings and the contempt, the rapes and the blood. He was worth all of it.”

Alys reaches out to touch your cheek and you recoil; but she is not giving you a revelation this time. She is merely tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with a fond, maternal smile. There are mottled plumes of violet and indigo on the side of her throat, you notice only now. Alys catches you staring.

“Aemond can be rough, domineering,” she says with a sly smirk. “You know how he is.”

You know how he is. You know how he is. Horror strikes you like lightning; you imagine what other visions she has swimming in her changed blood. “It was a mistake. Aegon must never learn of it.”

“Of course not. That would kill him.” And you are gutted by a blade of cool serrated treason. Alys does not appear to be aware of it. “If I can ever be of service, please do not hesitate to summon me. I can appear and speak to you briefly, perhaps for five or ten minutes. I will be like a mirage, a ghost. Find a closed door and write my name upon it in blood. Then knock three times and open the door. I will be there.”

“A door? Which door?”

“Any door.”

You contemplate her. “Why would you believe that you owe me loyalty?”

“Because of Aemond,” Alys says simply, without any trace of resentment. “You mean something to him. So you mean something to me.”

He doesn’t crave me anymore. He has his own prize now. “I think you’re mistaken.”

“I never am.” Then Alys glides off to rejoin her husband.

Hours later as you are helping Aegon into bed—he must be carried up and down the castle steps by his guards in a litter, something he considers mortifying—you weave a new braid for him and then pour him a cup of milk of the poppy when his glazed eyes keep listing to the glass bottle of pearlescent relief, deadened nerves, liquid dreams. You crawl into bed beside him, curl up against his scarred chest, listen to the slowing thud of his heartbeat as his arms enfold you and draw you in ever-closer. His dragon ring glints on his hand, returned to its rightful place.

“Your legs?” you ask, kissing the gnarled scar tissue that has grown over his collarbones like climbing roses, like ivy. He can’t really feel your touch there, that’s not why you do it. You do it to show that you aren’t repulsed by his wounds and could never be, could never think of any part of him as something less than wondrous.

“That’s most of it,” Aegon murmurs drowsily. “I’ve started getting this ache in my back too. It won’t go away.”

“What?” You bolt upright in bed. “Show me where.”

He gestures: the curve of his spine, just above his hips. Panicked, you begin pressing lightly over where his kidneys are.

“Here? Aegon? Does that hurt?”

But now he’s realized how frantic you are, how upset. “Oh, no, never mind,” he says, clutching his pillow and feigning being too tired to speak on the subject for even a moment longer. He yawns dramatically. “It’s just a sprained muscle, I think. You know I’m always crawling around now like some kind of vermin. It’s nothing serious. It will heal in time.”

“Aegon—”

“I’m alright.” He grabs your hand and pulls you back down to him, buries his face in your hair, nuzzles and sighs contently as he whispers: “Shh. I’m alright. Stay, stay.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“You left him!” you hear Aegon yelling from his rooms, and you drop the book you had been reading in the castle library, an anthology of illnesses of the body, the mind, the soul. You sprint through the shadowy corridors towards the noise, the hem of your sapphire gown fluttering around your ankles. You are always dressed in jewel tones these days. You are anything but neutral.

In Aegon’s bedchamber, Larys has pressed himself to one stone wall like he wishes to disappear. Alys is observing with her strange, impassive, void-dark eyes. Aemond is being berated. He does not appear resentful or defiant; no, he is paralyzed. He is haunted, he is damned.

“You left him!” Aegon screams again, and hurls a full wine cup that strikes Aemond in the chest, spewing red through the air like blood spurting from slit veins. The king is standing, but with great effort; he is scrabbling through the drawers of his bedside table for things to throw at his brother. Yet the glass bottle of milk of the poppy remains untouched. “You abandoned him, you betrayed him, you fucking murdered him!”

“Aegon, what’s going on—?!”

“Almost a week ago, Cregan Stark’s army met Criston’s in the Riverlands,” he tells you. He is panting, red-faced, furious as he recounts Lord Larys Strong’s words, the news the Master of Whisperers only now received from one of his innumerable informants.

You stare at Aemond, horrified, already knowing what this means. “And Aemond wasn’t there.”

“He was at Harrenhal!” Aegon roars, tossing one of your medical books at Aemond, a volume on herbology. It strikes the prince in the nose, and blood gushes from his nostrils; ruby droplets freckle his hair. Aemond makes no attempt to defend himself. He is in shock, he is mourning. “He was fucking his witch while our men were being butchered!”

“Criston, he’s…he’s…?”

“He was slain in battle,” Larys informs you quietly.

Aegon staggers to his brother, shoves him roughly, receives no retaliation. “He was the closest thing you had to a father, he worshiped you, he loved you, and you left him to fend for himself after I told you over and over again that you and Vhagar needed to stay with him, and now he’s gone!” There are tears on Aegon’s face, crystalline tracks that bleed down his cheeks and jaw and throat. “You killed him, you killed him!”

“The Stark men?” you ask Larys, not wanting to know but needing to.

“Moderate losses. Now headed south towards Daeron and the Hightower army.”

“You fucking traitor,” Aegon hisses, sobbing, beating his palms against Aemond’s chest again. “Your whole life all you’ve wanted was responsibility and the second someone gives it to you, you throw it away! Why can’t I be the one with a body that works?! Why can’t my dragon be whole again?!”

And at last Aemond finds his voice. It is brittle and almost too hushed to hear. “I’ll make this right. When I defeat Daemon and Caraxes at the Gods Eye, it will be over.”

“It’s already over for Criston!” Aegon explodes. “It’s over for Helaena and Jaehaerys and Maelor, it’s over for Otto and Everett, it’s over for Sunfyre, we keep losing people and it’s all your fault! You started this war and you’re too much of a goddamn coward to end it!”

“He will end it,” Alys says in that deep placid voice like dusk, dawn, midnight.

“Don’t try that bullshit with me! I don’t want to hear about your delusions, I want him to do his goddamn job! I want him to act like the hero he’s been begging to be seen as since he was five years old! You know why no one wants to write books about him or carve his face into statues? Because he doesn’t fucking deserve it!”

“I’m sorry,” Aemond whispers, his mouth trembling.

“You should be!” Aegon hemorrhages, and then collapses to the floor, moaning with his face in his hands.

You go to him, try to soothe him, grab the wine cup from the floor and fill it with milk of the poppy, tilt it against Aegon’s lips. He gulps the numbness down with helpless, hated need. Aemond and Alys flee for the doorway.

Aegon says, suddenly more calm: “Aemond, wait.”

The prince regent stills and turns back, listening. Aegon, with great difficulty, begins to say something in High Valyrian. Aemond cuts him off. “No, that won’t happen—”

“Please,” Aegon rasps. “Listen to me.” Then he continues. And as he speaks, Aemond’s eye fills with tears, a glistening like ice over lakes in the winter, like gemstones in a crown. You look between them, searching for any clues you can read.

“I understand,” Aemond says at last.

“Good. Now get out.”

Aemond wipes his face with his sleeve and then disappears from the room. You tell Aegon as you rise to your feet: “I’ll be right back.”

Aemond is moving quickly; you don’t catch up with him until he’s passed through the castle entranceway. Down by the ocean waves beneath a blood-red sunset, Vhagar is already landing, leaving cataclysmic imprints in the sand with her claws, trenches and impact craters. From the edge of the beach, Sunfyre watches with dull, wounded interest. Alys is halfway down the staircase. Aemond stops when he hears your footsteps, waiting under the rising full moon and materializing constellations.

You demand: “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing.”

“Aemond.”

“He’s confused, he’s exhausted, he’s in pain. He doesn’t understand—”

“Aemond, what did he say?”

The prince regent sighs and looks at you. “He said he doesn’t think he’s going to get better this time.”

I can’t believe that. I can’t survive that. “Why did you have to do it?” Your voice splinters; your throat burns. “He’s right that you started this war. You’re the reason Rhaenyra will never negotiate. You’re the one who made this horror inevitable. Why did you have to kill Luke?”

The dusk is radiant on Aemond’s face like firelight. It is a long time before he speaks. “I never intended to.”

That doesn’t make any sense. “What?”

“I never gave Vhagar the order. She went after Arrax. I tried to stop her.”

It wasn’t murder. It was an accident. And you think of all the times people have told Aemond that everything that’s happened is his fault, and how he has never disagreed with them. “Who knows?”

“You. Alys.”

“No one else?”

“Who would believe me?” Aemond smiles faintly, profoundly sad. “And even if they did, would that make me so much more noble than a kinslayer? A Targaryen who can’t control his own dragon? A man who is reckless, ineffective, unworthy?”

Here in air the color of flames and gore, you tell him, perhaps more kindly than he deserves: “You’re worthy, Aemond.”

“I will end this. I will meet Daemon and Caraxes in battle. Alys saw it.”

“Did she see you win?”

“Are you worried about me?” Aemond teases, grinning crookedly. And he does something that he hasn’t tried in a long time. He swipes for your forearm and you snatch it out of the way just before his fingers can close around it, just before he can catch you. Aemond chuckles. “I don’t want you to worry. I’ll win the war for the Greens. We will return to King’s Landing, we will rebuild, Aegon will heal. He will live for a long, long time.”

“Yes,” you say, wanting so desperately to believe it.

“You know,” Aemond adds as it occurs to him. “If the king does happen to predecease you, in ten years or twenty or thirty…and you find yourself unincumbered…Aegon the Conqueror had two wives. Alys would always be first, but…”

“No, Aemond.”

“Fine,” he says, agreeably enough. He smiles down at you. “I will come back to let you know when it’s done. Then I will fly south to join Daeron in annihilating Cregan Stark’s army. And then we’ll all go home.”

Yes, yes, let that be true. “Good luck,” you tell him, soft like a whisper.

“I don’t need it.”

Aemond descends the staircase, climbs up the rope ladder into Vhagar’s saddle, takes flight with Alys into the late-autumn dusk; and you watch them vanish into the crimson horizon until the sky is empty.

[scaryanneee]

VEILPUNK 9:52 ⚡️

Narrative parallels between [and MAJOR SPOILERS for] Dragon Age: The Veilguard and Cyberpunk 2077

Wake up, Samurai, we have a Thedas to burn. Let’s play a game:

Meet [V]/[Rook]. She is living her life as a [nomad/streetkid/corpo]/[Dragon/Crow/Lord/Watcher/Warden] when circumstances (aka, some kind of fuck-up) lead her to begin a new adventure with her friend [Jackie Welles]/[Varric Tethras]. 

The pair embark on a mission that involves a history lesson about a mercurial and rebellious [rockerboy]/[ancient elven mage] who made a questionable choice [50]/[8000] years ago when he [detonated a nuclear bomb]/[created the Veil]. That decision had dire consequences, but was done with good intentions: to take down a corrupt and powerful group – the [Arasakas]/[Evanuris]. 

Anyway, the job that [V]/[Rook] is on goes really, really bad: needless to say, we won't be working with [Jackie]/[Varric] anymore. [V]/[Rook] finds herself injured but alive… and the previously mentioned grumpy old [rockerboy]/[elven god] is now living in her head, somehow?! 

[Jackie]/[Varric]’s fate is not the only consequence of [V]/[Rook]’s actions. In fact, the clock is ticking: if [V]/[Rook] does not find a way to fix her mistake soon, she faces certain death. Not to mention, she promised [Jackie]/[Varric] that she would take care of the [biochip]/[team] for him. 

As she works to undo what she has done, [V]/[Rook] either bonds with the [Johnny Silverhand]/[Solas] living in her head, or hates him, or something in between. There’s lots of snarky jabs traded between mind-resident and host, but also moments of genuine understanding that build over time. 

It is kind of weird walking around the world, though, because you see symbols of [Johnny]/[Solas]’s legacy in the form of [Samurai memorabilia]/[Fen’Harel statues] pretty much everywhere... anyway.

In an optional questline, [V]/[Rook] can watch some of [Johnny]/[Solas]’s memories. She learns that his [nuclear bomb]/[creating the Veil] was about more than just fighting [corpo]/[godly] corruption. It was also about avenging the death of a woman he cared for deeply: [Alt]/[Mythal], who was killed by the [Arasakas]/[Evanuris]. [Alt]/[Mythal] and [Johnny]/[Solas] may have had a complicated and at times turbulent relationship, but there was no doubt he loved her. There’s also no doubt that [Johnny]/[Solas] feels, in part, personally responsible for her death.

[V]/[Rook] also gets to meet some of [Johnny]/[Solas]’s old friends: [Kerry]/[Dorian] and [Nancy]/[Morrigan], who both worked alongside him in [Samurai]/[the Inquisition], and [Rogue]/[Inquisitor Lavellan], a highly competent woman who [Johnny]/[Solas] had a romantic relationship with at one point (and who [Johnny]/[Solas] regrets not having treated better). [V]/[Rook] also meets some of [Johnny]/[Solas]’s greatest enemies from his past – like [Adam Smasher]/[Elgar’nan] – and gets to make [Johnny]/[Solas] proud by kicking their asses on his behalf. 

Finally, at the very end of the game, [V]/[Rook] can choose to either redeem [Johnny]/[Solas] or condemn him. They can even get help from a version of [Alt]/[Mythal] to do so!

Roll credits.

This is all to say: I love both of these franchises very much and, so it is very delightful to find all of these parallels between them. To be very clear, this is not an accusation of stealing or anything – stories echo, history rhymes, etc. – just an affectionate observation.

BUT.

It also highlights, for me at least, a few things Cyberpunk did well that Veilguard would have benefitted from incorporating. Namely:

A prologue based on character origin, where Rook meets/bonds with Varric, like V does with Jackie

More interaction between Protagonist and Guy Living in the Protagonist’s Head

Deeper engagement with the universe’s lore, particularly the setting and its impact on our protagonist. Night City feels like another character in Cyberpunk in a way that Veilguard's Thedas really does not.

The protagonist having a smaller scale, more personal investment in the outcome of events – V’s race against the biochip is instantly understandable, and her tenacity and strong will to survive make her very easy to relate to and like. I never quite felt the same level of investment in Rook, and I think that’s in part because her fight against the gods is so enormous in scale that it feels quite impersonal at times. 

Story parallels aside, these two games are also both examples of games that were rushed through development and suffered for it. For Cyberpunk, that meant infamous technical failures; for Veilguard, that apparently means writing that is inconsistent at best and baffling at worst.

Fortunately, CD Projekt Red was able to add tons of post-release updates (and the excellent Phantom Liberty DLC) to Cyberpunk, that really helped it ultimately evolve into the game it was intended to be. 

Unfortunately, I think it is extremely unlikely that EA/Bioware will ever give Veilguard the same treatment.

But if I’m looking for something to hope for about this franchise (despite the long odds)... I think that would be it. 

Anyway, if you read this far: thanks, [chooms]/[lethallen]! 🖤

[deadlysoupy]

complete (for now!) character sheets of my blorbo (huge thanks to @arcandoria your contribution to the fandom is incredible bless)

explanations under the cut (there's a lot bc i'm a yapper) (spoilers!)

Bellara: Rook and Bellara hit it off pretty much since the beginning. Rook loves to tinker, and Bellara's brain is always full of ideas, so they hang out a lot together just taking stuff apart and putting them together. despite Urchin not being a mage, he has basically grown up with mages and seen magic a lot in Tevinter, so i think he'd know a little bit. they bounce off each other really well, and when Cyrian comes back and she hits a low point, he supports her with a joke or lets her rant. neither he nor she will probably ever say it out loud, since it's a sensitive topic for both, but they consider each other siblings or cousins at least

Davrin: complete opposite of Bellara, Rook and Davrin got off on the wrong foot and couldn't get up lmao. Davrin had a problem with how Urchin handles things, he considers the Lords to be unethical and rude bastards, and how Urchin rushes into battle or does careless things. Urchin also hated how heroic Davrin seemed to pose as, he's pretty much jealous of his dalish upbringing, and his history with the Grey Wardens. they even got into a fight at some point (Urchin started it, by the way). but after that, they reach an understanding that turns into deep respect for what each of them went through, and to say that Rook would miss Davrin as his unbiased opinion and who wouldn't be afraid to challenge him is to say nothing

Emmrich: at first they got along great. the Lords taught Urchin to be respectful to spirits, and he's fascinated by death and the life beyond it. but Emmrich is a very "touchy-feely", inquisitive and curious person, which Urchin is a complete opposite of. still can't get out of my head the graveyard scene when Emmrich confides and talks about his parents, and Rook, trying to react in his usual non-emotional way, makes a joke, to which Emmrich deeply disapproves and Urchin has to apologize. that's the gist of their relationship, to be honest, but it does become better after a while. his experience in life helps Urchin a lot, and he likes listening to Emmrich talk about magic

Harding: good friends who goof around a lot! i don't have much to say about them to be honest, but i think there's potential here for so many goofs and gaffs and getting in jail. reminiscent of that one "mayhem!" line Harding has in a dlc of Inquisition, i think she'd be down to cause some chaos in Minrathous or something. Urchin also understands her anger, and he's remorseful at their revelation that the Titans died because of the elves. all in all, they're on very good terms

Lucanis: hooo boy. where do i even start and how do i make this as short as possible. there's always been an understanding between these two, even beyond romance, that was just a cherry on top. Lucanis had a lot going on when he came into the story, so Urchin gave him space and support when he needed it, because he knows how something that traumatic can hurt, and that sometimes you just don't want to talk about it. it's hard for them both to express feelings, and Lucanis is a guy of action rather than words, so he cooks, gives little gifts, gestures, and Rook in turn gives him compliments, jokes with him, takes him out on dates etc because he's more of a words guy. i don't know i could make a separate post about their specific romance that i've built in my head, give me an ask if you want it i denno

Neve: his emotionally stunted wife. you probably noticed how their bars are just insanely covered with colours, and that's because of the whole "Minrathous or Treviso" thing. i milk so much drama out of that choice because it's really good! beside the obvious, Rook couldn't really save Minrathous because of his past with slavery, but he still feels so bad about it because of Neve's love for it. and i don't think she can ever forgive him, actually, but she tries moving past it. the fact that they both had crushes on each other that turned south is kinda funny to me, because they're like two sides of the same coin! she's so afraid to get close to other people, she's snarky and doesn't turn down a good joke, her sense of style is incredible (i imagine them exchanging Tevinter fashion tips). they're still close even after the game, and grow closer after it, and Rook, Neve and Lucanis become a polycule. traumacule. do you see the vision

Taash: saved the best for last i guess because Urchin and Taash are like two siblings who hate each other. well, not exactly hate. i really liked how their relationship began, when Taash tells Rook how the Lords aren't thieves, and he's like "but we stole shit! literally!" and i think there's a really interesting contrast here. Taash was taught by their mother about cultural appropriation and respect, while Rook was Isabela's apprentice. Isabela's! there's no question he doesn't have almost any morals at all. so Taash thinks Rook's a jerk, but Urchin doesn't mind it much. after that, they bond over their gender issues, and since Urchin found his identity he shares his experience with them. in turn, Taash teaches him about dragons. they're also both from mixed cultures, so they have this solidarity over their messy lives. they're neat i like them

whoever read until the end. holy shit i want to kiss you

[kirkwall-tourism-department]

Extra Reading, Ch.3

the amount of effort it takes me to not let stuff that's supposed to be fluffy and happy slip into angst and sadness is crazy

i would not say i was totally successful this time

Her eyes burned from strain, a pounding headache resonated inside her skull, and her body had a heavy weight of exhaustion pressing down on it. While it was impossible to tell the time of day from her windowless room in the Lighthouse, she could tell from her physical state that she had gone a night without sleep, but it was worth it. She had done it. 

She read a book.

An achievement that long seemed impossible, reserved for those with better upbringings and more intelligence than her. But thanks to the professor, she did it. And she knew the first person to tell the news to.

Bolting up from her bed, she ran to Emmrich’s door, lights already peering out from his door. Walking up to it, she lightly knocked against it. As time passed without her question being answered, doubt started to creep into her mind, a sensation that had been forgotten to her until a few weeks ago. Would he be annoyed by her bothering him this early? It was hard to imagine him irritated at somebody, but maybe this would be what did it. Maybe he slept with his lights on and she was waking him up. What if-

Light filled the hallway, banishing the gloom that lingered in the hallways of the lighthouse. Emmrich stood in the open doorway with a drowsy smile on his face. “Good morning, Rook. I must admit my surprise at your presence- I don’t think I’ve ever seen you awake at this hour.” 

“I sort of forgot to sleep last night… but I finished it! I finished the book!” she exclaimed, smiling so wide her cheeks started to ache. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt like this.  Normally, her happiness felt like a shallow puddle, based on nothing but an indifference to the troubles surrounding her. This time, it was an endless ocean, rooted in a sense of accomplishment she hadn't felt since her first battle as a Warden.

“Rook, that’s wonderful!” he congratulated her, stepping aside and motioning her into the room. Crossing the threshold, the familiar sights of the room greeted her. The comforting glow and crackle of the fireplace, the subtle whispers of incense that hung in the air after his rituals, and the chair she had claimed as her own, draped in a blanket Emmrich had found for her when she had appeared cold. In the past week, she spent more of her waking hours here with Emmrich than in her own room. “Would you like to discuss it?”

“Yes! I have a lot of thoughts, professor. I love that I get to say that.” she responded, sitting down in her chair, wrapping herself in the plush blanket. Emmrich sat at his desk, and gave her a look of pride that made her heart skip a beat. “Given the Warden’s love of secrecy, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised about how much of this I didn’t know but… the whole thing with the Commander of Soldier’s Peak going crazy and needing to be forced to go on his Calling made me think a lot about how long the First Warden has been doing his job. And if what happened then might be happening now.”

“And that is precisely why we must study history!” Emmrich exclaimed, beaming at her with satisfaction, jewelry singing as he gesticulated with his hands. “To understand the past is to understand the present. I can’t tell you the joy it brings me to see you find those connections. If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been a Warden?”

“Seven years.”

“I suppose that would explain your skill on the battlefield.”

Rook tried to fight away the blush rising on her face, giving a small shrug, unsure of how to respond to so much praise.  “One thing I wondered about- the only names he mentions are commanders. It makes it sound like they did everything. Obviously, they do a lot, but in my experience, they wouldn’t be able to get anything done if they didn’t have soldiers underneath them helping. Just makes me think of how many things are being credited to the commander’s whose names actually got written down somewhere when it may have been their subordinate actually getting the work done.”

“I… you’re absolutely correct.” Emmrich responded, a faraway look in his eyes. “I think you may have just changed how I interpret historical texts. This is one of the things I was hoping to gain from leaving the Necropolis- different perspectives. We tend to be such an insular community, we forget about the diversity of experiences in the world above us.” Emmrich spoke like he was conducting an orchestra, hands moving alongside his voice to help punctuate his sentences. It was difficult not to get distracted by all the golden jewelry adorning his arms when he gestured like that. Her fascination with everything that seemed expensive was the origin of her nickname after joining the Wardens- after growing up in the squalor of the alienage, seeing the ostentatious livery some of the senior Wardens wore distracted her with thoughts of envy and awe. Once it had happened enough times, the other recruits started calling her Rook- like she would try and steal the shining ornaments of her superiors to bring back to her nest. Despite the implications of the name, she had been welcoming of a new identity, hoping her old name would simply wash away with time. “Rook?”

“Sorry, what?” she apologized, snapping out of her thoughts. Emmrich stared at her, clearly expecting a response to a question she hadn’t heard.

“You seemed to be distracted.”

“Sorry again, it’s just… the jewelry on your arms. It’s really pretty.” she explained, somewhat embarrassed to have to admit how easy it was to draw her mind away from the topic at hand. 

“You think so?” Emmrich questioned, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Is that surprising?”

“I’ve just never seen you wear anything like it.”

“There’s no way I could afford something like that!” she laughed, imagining the absurdity in stretching the pittance she got as a Warden enough to afford golden jewelry. Emmrich’s eyes fell from her face in embarrassment at her retort, and the easy cadence of their conversation ground to a halt.

“My apologies for bringing up the matter.”

“It’s really not an problem.” she reassured him, the absence of his standard calm affability making her feel uneasy. She wanted to get him back as fast as she could. “What’s your next assignment for me?”

“I found a history of the Wardens in the Free Marches, like you asked.” he prefaced, clearly thankful Rook moved them though their conversational hiccup so quickly. “But the language is a bit… verbose. I apologize if this appears condescending, but I fear you may have trouble reading it without assistance.”

“That’s fine. It’ll be a good excuse to spend more time around you.” she smiled at him. For the first time since meeting him, Emmrich looked flustered. His eyes went wide, slight color appeared in his cheeks, and his mouth opened slightly in surprise. Satisfaction rose in her chest at her ability to make someone as dignified as him blush. As much as she hated to admit it, she had been hoping to break his composure like this since they first met at the Necropolis. She wasn’t sure where her innate desire to ruin beautiful things came from, but it certainly extended to Emmrich. After a few moments, he regained his typical poise before giving her a slight smile.

“You never have to find excuses, Rook. I’ll always welcome your company.”

—

This was a poor decision.

Emmrich paced his room, turning a small jewelry box over in his hands. It contained a small silver bracelet with a single blue gemstone inlaid between the delicate metal chainlinks. He had picked it up in Nevarra City earlier in the day, his conversation with Rook from the previous morning lingering in his mind long after she left him. He had been telling himself it had no deeper meaning than a kind gift to a colleague. After all, he had been in her position once- unable to afford all the luxuries he saw others indulging in. It didn’t have to have a deeper meaning than simple empathy.

But he knew he was lying to himself. On some level, he wanted to impress the beautiful woman who had been spending her evenings with him. He knew his desire for her companionship was improper- she couldn’t have been older than her late twenties. However, knowing something illicit rarely did anything to calm one’s heart.

Or other body parts.

So he walked circles in his room, trying to make the decision before she came by later for their standing appointment. Would she appreciate the gift as a simple, thoughtful gesture? Would she read into his implicit intentions? Would she be repulsed by them, or would she-

“Hi Emmrich!” Rook cheerily greeted him as the door opened without warning, Manfred holding it open for her. “I ran into Manfred on the way over. What’s that?” She questioned as she walked to meet him in the center of the room. Emmrich cursed his anxiety, the decision having been taken out of his hands. 

“I was thinking of our conversation yesterday, and I thought you might appreciate this.” Emmrich explained, trying to mimic Rook’s matter-of-fact manner of speaking to prevent any potential miscommunication. He handed the box to her, and she took it curiously, examining the fine velvet exterior. He held his breath as she slowly opened it, and her smile fell. 

“Emmrich, this…” she whispered, shock and confusion intermingling on her face. She stared at it silently for what felt like an eternity, her face frozen in the inscrutable expression. The anxiety that had been nipping at his heels before her entrance overwhelmed him, tearing open his chest with its vicious claws. 

“Rook…” he began, unsure how to correct his error. What had he done? He had let his romantic imagination get away from him, a relic from a time long past. And now he risked not only a professional relationship, but a friendship he had come to cherish. 

“Why are you so kind to me?” She interrupted him before he could further embarrass himself. She turned her gaze to him, tears starting to well in her eyes. The anxiety that had been mauling him since the exchange started disappeared, replaced by a yawning void of sorrow. She didn’t understand why she would be given a gift like this. This woman, a shining beacon of joy who fought against the tide of Blight that threatened to swallow the world, couldn’t comprehend why someone cared for her.

“It’s nothing less than what you deserve.” he assured her, tucking a strand of red hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear. She wiped away the tears that had begun to spill from her eyes, blinking away any more that threatened to appear. Lifting the bracelet from its resting place, she delicately placed it on her wrist, taking a deep breath and studying it for a few moments once it was where it belonged. Raising her gaze back up to him, her typical smile had reappeared, any vulnerability she had let escape tightly leashed back. “Are you ready to start the next book?”

She nodded, clearly relieved to be able to move past her emotional display. Taking her seat, she grabbed the book from his desk, and opened it to the first page. The rest of their evening proceeded like the rest, a constant rhythm of silence and questions, all pertaining to the text, save for one.

“Emmrich?”

“Yes?”

“Is the blue stone to match my eyes?”

[aves-rook-laidir]

Here are my live notes that i typed out on the Sticker App while playing the game for the first time. - MAJOR SPOILERS -

They are slightly out of order because I was just jumping in typing wherever:

Holy shit it’s on TWO DISCS?!!?

Not me staring at the press any button screen for ages

I like that Neve is like Cassandra, your no 1

Davrin Rook bonded so fast because they were immediately thrown into a dragon battle together and it got really tough real quick

Did Gilhanain just say YOUR BLOOD KNOWS YOU’LL DIE HERE?

Absolutely loved bringing harding as the extra companion, she’s just so exasperated by it all

I do feel like the va tone didn’t always fit with certain more serious situations.

Staring at Solas in photomode, so mixed emotions, mostly exasperation.

So what was he doing at the strart? Putting evanuris in a stronger prison, then tearing down the veil, or? Because if he was just putting them in a new prison, and exlained himself to Varric non of this would be happening.

God damn, someone ask Morrigan about the fith blight, actually, is it even public record who journeyed with the Warden? Was it kept hush hush?

Can wardens still hear the calling if all the high dragons are awakend? Whos calling them in the deep roads?

I wonder if Davrin has a hard time talking about the elven god reveal because he has a special relationship with Halla and Ghilanain was the god of Halla? 

Oh, why would we have Varric's shaving mirror?

Lucanis so fucking weird haha

Davrin - “Couldn’t have asked for a better day” Rook immediately, ungracefully slides down a cliff

Emmrich is making a mistake, why would he want to be immortal, like look at these three imortal clowns running around.

Ok so The Ancient Elves were spirits who took physical forms using the lyrium, which is the blood of the ancient titans, They became the first mages? This caused a war between the elves and the titans

I wish they had shown more of Emmrich getting her out of the fade, because that is his very specific skill, like all the attention Lucanis got about using the dagger, to cement Emrrich's role in all this, I wanna see him being a badass in a direct story point.

The Butcher was scarier than Elghanan, should not have been,

Elghanan should have been wayyyy scarier, less talking.

“The gods they give strength but all they ask in return is everything” dope

Literally fuck off no scene getting her out of the fade, her reacting to getting out, the grief? The Relief? Helo?

“Though Harding also told me” LMAO Emmrich

I feel like it makes more sense for Harding to sneak up on Ghillie, This is her moment, tragic because we’ve seen her whole journey. Harding saying ‘should I take the shot’ at the start of the game then taking guaranteeing Ghilanains death with her simple bow and arrow. and to have this little dreamless thing, created out of the desicrated titans be the last thing she sees, fuck yes.

The first thing they did was retrieve all the bodies. They found Harding and Leliana and the Inquisitor brought her back to her village

Solas: How did you even get out of the fade? Rook: gestures vaguely to Emmrich standing behind her ‘He knows more about the fade than you.'

I wish there was a bit more dialogue with Dorian at the end, saying ‘Do it for Varric and or Harding, won’t you? They were just so…oh, you…know...’

Taash everyone I loves dies NONONO I love you!

‘Everything dies, its what they do’ Including imortal gods

Is solas fucking losing??? fucks sake cant even do one thing

Solas assisting the Shadow Dragons at the end paint a funny picture, like, imaging Dorain trying to evacuate the city and Solas is just also there, after like 10 years. How did that reunion go?

It had to be bellara that got blighted, those gods were hers, that history is hers, and she's just so innocent, it was a great character arc

me the whole time 'its fine just go grey warden'

Shaved her head after coming out the fade to feel something

What if it’s not enough? What if it is?

I really though time travel was going to be a thing, after the dorian stuff?

Leo represent my Inky because in my AU she is too weak to travel as the mark is still sucking the life out of her, arm or no arm, but she dragged her ass up for that final scene with Solas. Leli and Josie spread a misinformation campaign around thedas, so unless you meet them directly its really hard to know if Inky is a female Elf, Male Human, and whoever else.

I hope Morrigan is ok

[shanaraharlyah]

DATV ask game if you are willing to share <3 For Saro: 6, 27, 18 For Hellendil: 3,14, 19 +30 haha

Thank you so much for sending these @valyrra! 😘💕 Sorry it took so long to finish, but there is quite a bit. Putting it mostly under a cut for possible spoilers. Ask game is here if anyone wants to send more!

Sarovanya

6. Favorite/Least favorite NPC

Antoine and Evka are probably Sarovanya's favorite people. Friends and fellow Grey Wardens who've always accepted him even with all his flaws. He looks at what they have with admiration. Definitely gets some couples goals from them.

Saro's least favorite person is easily the First Warden. He feels he was 100% correct in his decision to disobey orders for a better strategy that saved an entire town and will not apologize for it. He wanted so bad to punch this man in the face, but stayed his hand because he was taught better.

18. Is Rook more diplomatic, humorous or harsh? A mix of all three?

Sarovanya is definitely a mix. It really depends on the person he's dealing with and the situation. Diplomacy is usually his first choice, though he can also be pretty straight forward at times. He's got a bit of a problem with authority sometimes and that leads to mockery or heavy-handedness on occasion. He also likes being the center of attention and he'll use humor if it will get him there.

27. Is there a song you associate with your Rook / their romance with a companion?

Took some time to think about this one because while I usually have music in mind for characters and ships, I hadn't yet for for these two.

I've associated Don't Let Him Go by REO Speedwagon with Sarovanya and his OTP, and it sort of still applies. He's still the same person but he doesn't butt heads with Harding the way he does with Tarwen in his OU. In fact some of the things that exasperated Tarwen are things that made Harding fall for him. But, he still gets a shut up from her now and again.

Love Will Keep You Up All Night by Backstreet Boys inspired a whole scene in his OU, but definitely still applies here in a different way. While there he's had trouble even telling Tarwen he's in love with her and getting her to reciprocate in the 100+ years they've known each other (that's a lot of potential sleepless nights), here he literally can't touch Harding once they've established their intentions on account of the activated lyrium in her veins. As if Warden nightmares aren't enough, he also spends many sleepless nights just thinking about Harding and what it would be like to finally get to be with her, kiss, hold hands, etc. He even spends nights just sitting with her so he can be there if she has a nightmare.

I've also been associating Gotta Be Somebody by Nickelback with them (why's it always Nickelback and Dragon Age?). I wouldn't say Saro went into this looking for/expecting to find love but for sure the attraction was there since he met her. That attraction only grew as he got to know her better and became quite strong as they began living together at the lighthouse. As always, he's very bad at showing/telling people how he feels about them, but Harding notices. He's been fulfilling what she needs in a relationship with his encouragement and willingness to always be there, even before they talk about it.

Hellendil

3. Favorite/Least favorite banter

I'll be honest, I haven't clocked anything as good as DAO/Awakenings/DAI banter in this game yet. I kind of like this one between Neve and Davrin.

14. Favorite/Least favorite faction

He's a veil jumper so he definitely has an affinity towards them. It fits him well with his tendency towards research and learning, particularly about the history of his people since so much had been lost to the ages. Other than them, it is the Shadow Dragons. He admires their fight to end slavery in Tevinter and enact real change.

His least favorite is the Lord's of Fortune. He doesn't trust the claim that they're not selling culturally important artifacts to earn their fortunes. He's a veil jumper and has spent his life uncovering secrets lost to history and working with dangerous artifacts. The idea that there are people out there looting these sorts of places and artifacts for profit does not sit well with him.

19. Who did you romance? Would you romance more than one?

This is definitely a work in progress right now, so we'll see how it pans out in the end (what I think and what he ends up doing are sometimes different things). But, I definitely see him being drawn to Lucanis. The danger and uncertainty of a "mage killer"/ man possessed, who also has a softer side is right up his alley. However his choice to fight the dragon in Minrathous cut this option short and will lead to some self loathing/angst until he comes to terms with it. (Boy hates making decisions for just these kinds of reasons, but this is the decisions with consequences game series so...) This is likely going to see him pursuing Neve or Bellara.

Bellara would be so cute with him. The two of them could encourage one another on their research and it would allow both of them to continue doing what they love together.

But I see him being drawn in more by Neve's personality. He also has a great admiration of the Shadow Dragons cause so I see him working more closely with them in the future and bringing the two closer.

Honestly he's one to kind of experiment, so he's likely to kiss more than one of them before he commits, but once he does, there will be no one else.

30. Favorite/Funniest/Most Cursed screenshot

Favorite - Probably this one. Saro just looks soo good. ❤️

Funniest - How could I not pick silly griffon times

Cursed - Uh, Neve, are you trying to get baby boy stabbed?

Or else early game Hel before I managed a better/more correct face morph for him.

[howetragic]

DARP Advent 2024: Day Six

HALFWAY THERE!

Let's talk about INFLUENCES and ADMIRATION! Mun Portion!:

1. What inspired you to get into DARP? Former RP experiences? Just a love for the games? Oh boy. So I actually have a looooooong history of RP since I was in like middle school??? My best friend in the entire world and I actually met on Neopets!!! on the RP boards. I was in this group called the Annoyers and we would "raid" creepy/weird RP threads and/or just flood the boards. Some of us got banned. I then went on to lead this group in a multi-fandom mix of boards. We had a b2g board and a... gosh I can't remember what it's called. We were also on Gaia Online. I was a moderator with Dragon Ball Z / greek mythology muses (hilarious spread there, I know). Then I got on Tumblr, I started writing Dragon Age fanfic for my Hero of Ferelden. And Shink, Pandy, and Tabbi were foolish enough to allow me to RP with them on my personal blog until I finally took the leap and made myself an RP blog and the rest is kind of like history. 2. Name one (or a couple) of your fellow writers that you think are neat, and why! Can be famous, on Tumblr, in your real life, on AO3, whatever. My baes both on AO3 and here are @theshirallen and @theharellan, and I'm also in love with @fatedvoyage, @turlums, @mercysought. Can't recommend those nerds enough. 3. Has anyone in DARP (past or present!) really helped to define or reimagine a character for you? Or made you rethink perceptions that you held? Oh God yeah. Most notable being Tas with Solas - before I met Tas I didn't really give a shit about Solas and wasn't particularly interested in him or his story. Unfortunately for my brain if Inara doesn't Vibe with a character I don't pay too much attention to them at first, and Solas resided in that gray bubble. Tas made me love him and be fascinated even before that turned out to be a very plot-relevant thing to be. 4. What other fandoms/works/writers have influenced your writing style and the way that you view writing and creative expression? lololol maybe see above but overall my writing was influenced very early on by Douglas Adams and Phillip Pullman. I wanted to be magical, but also amusing. 5. Do you have any friends that have created a Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor/Rook that you've basically adopted? Yes. I still use Pandy's Hawke but also steal @fatedvoyage's Van. I love Thora for Inquisitor but am coming to love Asharen more and more since I've been back here, as well as @keepslore. There's a lot of great Rooks so far I'm sure I'll absorb one. 6. What's a fandom work (writing, art, etc) that you think is super cool and you wish more people would see it? Share it with us! I mentioned this Sebastian and Nathaniel fic from Gaia to @mournflame the other day and I think all of you should read it too.

Muse Portion!:

1. Who or what are some things/powers/people that your muse admires? Unfortunately for Nathaniel, his greatest hero was his father growing up. He admired the man very much. 2. Does your muse have a "hero" that they look up to from canon? In an extension of the above, Nathaniel saw Rendon as a hero for his contributions to the Rebellion. He really believed that his father was courageous and brave. 3. What legends, tales, or stories helped to form your muse's ideas of power and heroism? Many! He heard all the stories of the Heroes of the Rebellion as he grew up, from Maric and Loghain to his own father. Standing against the odds, acting noble even when your title has been stripped from you and taking back what is yours by right. Those are the stories that inspired him. 4. Conversely, what sort of legends, tales, or stories formed their idea of what a villain is? Much the same. Nathaniel does not care for Orlais, though chevaliers are a bit softer in his mind thanks to his time with his mother's cousin. 5. Are there other muses in DARP that your muse admires? Or reviles/fears? (be careful with that second one and be RESPECTFUL.) In DARP I think he would admire @mercysought's Anora. He begins hating every HOF that slaughtered his father but especially Couslands. 6. If your muse is someone who has companions or is one of the groups of companions from canon, how do they and their companions play off of each other? Are they friends? Enemies? Two dudes who'd cross the street to avoid each other? What are their most powerful connections within their "group"? He's got a wide variety in the Awakening crew. He and Sigrun are fairly close. He has a crush on Velanna, but she rebuffs him. Anders frustrates him, Oghren disgusts him. Justice... Justice tends to piss him off.

[kirkwall-age]

i am playing very slowly but I have finally reached the conversation with Harding about her times in the Inquisition

and -- i am enjoying the game very much -- but this one thing i am NEVER going to be NOT salty about

they did everything cleverly. there is no reason for me to butt into personal business of anybody at all. i'm a stranger, and the stakes are world-ending, so i don't get to sit around with Dorian and reminisce about his personal life

and it's neat that they are referencing things that are just by default there. i.e. Lucanis saying that the source of the experiments on him came from what the Promisers did to the Seekers, force-feeding them lyrium and creating monsters, even though Seekers cannot be possessed

you can, by and large, get by on shit like that, and it's neat

but what is not neat is having a conversation with Harding that will have zero changes in all playthroughs. she talks about Leliana, and Rook's follow-up is "i heard she's terrifying". really? is your follow up NOT gonna be, "yeah i hear the new Divine is famous for her nugs?" (if she IS divine)

their rebuttal was that they didn't want to invest in cameos and ask voice actors to come back for just 3-4 gimmicky lines. well i don't want that either. Dorian's presence is logical and seamless. Morrigan, presumably, has more role than what I've seen so far. i don't want characters to just BE there for 3 seconds of fanservice.

but Inquisition was alive with resonance. and I'm not even saying the major things like HTLA and Warden Contact. just ambient conversation. just 20 to 30 extra lines of ambient conversation throughout the whole massive game. "oh I heard Lady Morrigan is married to the Hero of Ferelden. i heard she has a six pack".

but more than that: codex entries? the first example that came to mind when the 3 choices were unveiled was the codex entries that take no voice acting to write. they just need to be adjusted for world state input. little stuff, like the Bottles of Thedas collection, where i can find 3 different bottles depending on my world state: for Bethany / for Carver / for unknown Warden.

because I'm running around Treviso, and everyone is very in love with being a Crow, and a "Crow never abandons a contract", and... how is there not just a funny haha codex entry lying around that says "A Crow never abandons their contract -- except, you know, for that ONE famous time" -- a codex that would be absent if Zevran died, but a codex that would acknowledge Zevran's existence and history if he became the constant thorn in their side

so far, i think, (and i'm only like 30%? 40%? in it), this is a very good game, to me. there is so much i am enjoying about it. and it is very replayable, because the choices within it and the consequences are fun

(also the way they did open-world is catnip to me personally.)

but it could have been elevated to truly like UNPARALLELED heights by having ACTUAL continuity instead of this default continuity of only mentioning things that are gonna be factual for every world state ever.

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Welcome (*・∀・*)ノ

My name is Yomogi- this is my tumblr for all of my ao3 writings. Rn I'm obsessed with Twisted Wonderland, but I'd like to write for fandoms like Genshin Impact, hypmic, etc. Lots of angst (*・∀-)ｂ

My special interests are in Art History and Literature so I take a lot of inspiration from that ♡

Currently not taking requests perse, but I'm willing to take any commentary or ideas to incorporate into my writing! Commentary always appreciated. I love hearing people's thoughts :)

☆ They/Them ; Queer ; Autistic ☆

Jap 日本語 / Eng OK!

よろしくお願いしゃーす～(っ´▽｀)っ

——————————————————

AO3 Account is Here.

✦·.⋆ Masterlist ⋆.·✦

Twisted Wonderland:

All GN MC!!!

Beloved Thy Name

Sequel (Beloved Gift) (AO3 Link)

Pairing: Lilia x Dullahan MC

Genre: Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, Oneshot

Summary: Triumphing over your siblings on the human farm situated in the far corners of Briar Valley, you are implanted with the essence of the Tree of Eternity, gaining unmatched abilities in regeneration. When your Warden finds that the experiment is a success, you are promptly sold to the fae army as a weapon of destruction‒ a position you answer to with animal violence, much to the content of your handlers and the fae army, who name you Dullahan, after the myth of the headless reaper. When you come across the infamous Lord Lilia, great commander of the Fae army‒ he takes you under his wing, gifting you morsels of peace even with death on the horizon. You are simply taken with the sweet songs and sugary words which fall from his mouth‒ echoing them in the heart in your chest that did not feel like yours.

MC based off of Dullahan myth (Celtic headless omen of death)

AO3 LINK

Spolia

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 (COMPLETE)

Pairing: Malleus x Light Fae MC ; Parental Mozus Trein x MC

Genre: Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, Slow Burn

Summary: You wondered why you ever got accepted into NRC but never bothered to look back when the infamous black carriage whisked you away from a place you could never call home. Having been handed an opportunity of freedom, of solitude, of hope- how come you're paralyzed with fear rather than excitement? Your sunny plein air sessions and nightly walks contemplating this has attracted a certain dragon fae with an affinity for your nimble gargoyle sketches and magnificent paintings

MC based off of changelings

AO3 LINK

Pygmalion

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 (COMPLETE)

Pairing: Rook x Pygmalion MC ; Platonic Idia x MC ; Platonic Ortho x MC

Genre: Angst with Happy Ending, Slight Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn

Summary: You were frequently told that your career as a renowned sculptor did not match your dull and less than colorful personality. With your cybernetic hands, you carve the lives and deaths of those long gone‒ producing pieces which have been held in both technical and emotional high regard, dubbing you with the title “Pygm.AI.lion” despite your human heart and brain. When you accidentally still the usually flamboyant archer into silence after he comes across you working in your atelier‒ you find that you’ve become a victim to one of his ceaseless stalkings. Though, you’ve been prey long enough to know how hunt the huntsman himself.

MC based off of Pygmalion myth

AO3 LINK

Lasting Spring

Pairing: Vil x Orpheus MC

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Childhood best friends, pining, angst with happy ending

Summary: Great expectations are placed on you, coming from a line of extraordinary poets, bards, and musicians. You fulfill these expectations with ease‒ the lightness of your voice illuminating any room with divine merriment through a swift dance of your fingers on your lyre. Your fame is equally matched with the curse swimming through your family’s blood‒ one which announces death and tragedy to your lovers, unless they are your true love‒ your soulmate. However there is no assurance that soulmates truly exist, only the madness that comes as an endless thirst for it. So you extinguish that thirst, settling for quick, messy flings‒ much to the dismay of your childhood friend, Vil Scoenheit. You lament your own tragedy through woeful verses, masked in the sweltering felicity of your music. Vil always trails that sorrow back to you, wishing to embrace you in his warmth to take it away, even for a moment. But the members of your family who had found love unobstructed by the gods were great lovers to heroes, kings, queens, and warriors‒ who was he, seen by most as a villain, to taint that possibility for you?

MC based off of Orpheus myth

AO3 LINK

Ineffable Bloom

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x Siren Mute MC

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Maternal angst/Mother wound, childhood friends to lovers, angst with happy ending

Summary: Despite your status as siren, there are not many words that reach those around you anymore, voice now muted and marred from the surgeries you have endured to remove the carnations that once suffocated your throat. But you don't mind it, serving quietly as the gardener of Night Raven College, making do with a notepad and pen when necessary. You are pleased to find your childhood friend, Azul, now attends the school, who spontaneously hires you for the flower arrangements he decides to decorate in his lounge with. There's little hope you bear with the silent poetry you weave with each meticulously placed flower, only an ache which tumbles over you like the ceaseless seas. However, Azul is not deaf to this song you have sealed in your bouquets, having cherished the morsels of sweetness in your childhoods where you shared the silent language of each flower.

MC based off of siren

AO3 LINK

Merciful Crusade

Pairing: Jamil x Shikigami MC

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, angst, healing, slight enemies to lovers

Summary: The life of a shikigami, or a ceremonial servant spirit was a threadbare one. The small world you scarcely lived consisted of hard, earth‒packed walls framed tightly against a small cedar cell, illuminated only by the lonely starlight during your sleepless nights. Despite your human body, you’re almost certain you’ve never felt the blood move and warm your body in such a way that would indicate that there had ever been a human heart‒ having spent too much time gilded with a hardened iron face to even feel it if it had been there. Jamil‒ who untethers you from the spell that binds you to your onmiyoji master‒ becomes a peculiar mirror in your new life that reflects your choked breaths and measured footsteps. It never bothered you when your own body smothered what was left of your vitality‒ but when you watch Jamil from a distance, knowing the way he classifies each movement, the strangle of his muscles‒ something inside you aches. You don’t know why.

MC based off of Shikigami

AO3 LINK

Honey Lemon Crescendo

Pairing: Trey Clover x Vampire MC

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, angst, healing, friends to lovers

Summary: The gods should have made you better, so that they could love you.  The days you pray for the abolishment of your abhorrent form are rare in the centuries you have lived since your family's death, and your turning. Sharpened claws and teeth, the hellfire of your gaze are concealed for your own convenience, you tell yourself, especially as you enroll into NRC. The tonic of human affairs rarely interested you, yet when you find the truly curious case of Trey Clover, someone who is made only of that plain sort, you cannot help but to promise yourself one conversation, some several hours of the thousand thousand you have lived to taste what it is like to be treated, and be human again. But you're a fool, and a hypocrite‒ you find yourself breaking that promise over, and over, and over. Your fragile resolve frays at every sunbeam smile, every ringing laughter of his. 

MC Based off of Vampires

AO3 Link

Orchid Child, Dandelion Child

Pairing: Riddle Rosehearts & Sibling MC (not a romantic pairing)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, sibling healing

Summary: This is going to take after Riddle’s overblot, and short and sweet. The term orchid child/dandelion child refer to children who may have very specific/different needs for their development, and those who need less accommodations or specific requirements for their development, respectively. They may grow up in the same environment but everyone’s needs are different, one child may have different coping mechanisms than the other. MC is heavily implied to have dyslexia, ADHD/Autism, and OCD (the latter two of which are often comorbid)

AO3 Link

[thedinanshiral]

Patterns

Today i'd like to make a quick mention of patterns. Repeated elements and narratives that insist on sticking around for unknown reasons.

In the history of Thedas that repeated element or theme is betrayal.

Starting from ancient Elvhenan, when the rest of the Evanuris betrayed Mythal and literally took her out of the picture. Then we have Fen'Harel avenging her by "betraying" both Evanuris and Forgotten Ones, condemning them to a near eternity of confinement away from the rest of the world. Next and following Mythal's death by murder we have the betrayal of Flemeth; sure, she cheated first, but while one could say love is capricious and acts without warning her husband did tricked her, intentionally betrayed her, killing her lover and imprisoning her and it's due to her desire for vengeance for that betrayal that Mythal's whisp finds her. Then a long time later Andraste is betrayed by her own husband out of jelaousy for her success and fame, only for the Maker himself to take her to his side enshrining her as the head of the new religious authority..see, there's the pattern. A female character stabbed in the back by their partner, one way or another, revindicated or avenged by something or someone from the beyond.

Then we have our protagonists. The Warden who more or less depending on the origin is betrayed, by people or fate, and must then rely on otherwordly powers to succeed in restoring some kind of order. Hawke, also betrayed by fate, by some he called a friend or even a lover, aided by Flemeth herself. The Inquisitor, once again, betrayed by a companion, friend or possibly even a lover but also saved by them. Who and under what circumstances will our new protagonist Rook be betrayed by this time?

But that's not the only pattern, there's two more i'd like to touch on.

First one involves the Inquisitor. While the only canon is that there is no canon and i do agree with that to some extent as BW have said once or twice that the canon story is the one the player chooses -even if that's not entirely honest of them as they do follow a default canon around which they continue to build the story- i must say if we are to follow patterns then the unofficial canon would be a female elven mage Inquisitor. In Jaws of Hakkon DLC we learn that the first Inquisitor, Ameridan, was an elven mage and throught the DLC story we learn he had a lover, an elven mage woman who happened to have some Rift magical habilities. Theirs was an unfortunate love that couldn't survive that final mission in the Frostback Basin; Ameridan sacrificed himself to seal Hakkon while his lover, injured, died alone in a nearby island waiting. Leaving their tragic end aside, is that not awfully similar to Solavellan? Elven mage inquisitor in a relationship with elven Rift mage companion, unable to remain together due to their duties. Not to mention Solavellan is the romance that fleshes out most of the lore regarding the Evanuris and Fen'Harel himself, exposing him, rendering him vulnerable. The events of Trespasser further solidify this. It is a female Lavellan, and specifically a mage one he can relate to, who cracks his walls that he's spent millenia building around him so tightly. It may not be the canon choice, but it certainly is the one that has the most to offer to the lore of Thedas and Solas' character.

Lastly, the other pattern i noticed is one of the games themselves. DAO is about the Fifth Blight, it resolves the Blight -more or less- and ends with the general idea of rebuilding. DA2 doesn't follow on that directly, it begins during the Blight and makes a timeskip to show the protagonist making a living in the Free Marches. As the events unfold, the game ends with the explosive beginning of the Mage-Templar war. DAI begins with peace talks to put an end to the Mage-Templar war only for it to blow up in the air again and be replaced by more pressing matters like a hole in the sky spitting out demons. By the end of this story -Trespasser- the next challenge is layed out: Finding Solas and stopping him from taking down the Veil. Now in DAV we start the game by...already having found Solas and interrupting his ritual, releasing a couple of monstrosities in the process, and the rest of the game we'll spend it trying to deal with that mess. So the pattern here is the previous game's cliffhanger and/or it's most central theme ends up becoming the opening context for the next game that will in turn revolve around something else as if the big disaster from the previous game wasn't that big of a deal after all. This is more evident between DA2 and DAI, and between DAI/Trespasser and DAV.

I imagine many thought they'd resolve the Mage-Templar war in Inquisition only to find the agenda changed. And after Trespasser we all thought we'd have to spend the next game chasing Solas all over Thedas to stop him but in the end all that happens quickly whithin the first hour of the game!

In a silly tiny way is like BW is betraying us too, our expectations from game to game. It's like.. We'll deal with the Mage-Templar war! BW: Lol think again. We'll have to chase Solas all over the map, a cat and mouse race, we'll spy and gather intel and try to outsmart the guy who's always five steps ahead and we'll stop him from taking down the veil! BW: Ha! Someone didn't read the comics lol try again

I think it's funny. Bit misleading, specially in this last case, because they set the stage and then basically tell you the play follows a different script and is to be performed at a different theater. So now i'm already preparing myself, if they make another game after this one, whatever is hinted at by the end will not be what we'll deal with then.

[ayebibs]

I just finished Veilguard. I have so many thoughts. Very raw and unpolished under the cut. I have no one to talk about this with so my dash must suffer. Probably will ramble on more later too.

Tldr; I am highly critical but I had a fun enough time and still love dragon age.

Definitely felt the loss of my world state choices. Especially if this is a soft relaunch and I may never have my characters or thedas mentioned ever again.

Hot take, I don't care for Morrigan that much. She's fine and I like her, but I love Varric more and would much rather have seen other past companions. Someone give me back fenris and merrill. Also, why is Isabela in basically every game. I like her but? I cannot determine the reason. Am I missing lore?

Speaking of Varric, I clocked his death immediately (no one but rook ever spoke to him?) His death felt cheapened by the poorly executed twist for me. Disappointing and annoying to me.

So much good lore (and much of it wasted). Why did everything feel so surface level except in the crossroads? That part of the narrative was so much tighter. So much could have been done with the Titans, in my opinion, and I think so little of that was explored.

Such a satisfying ending, but the rest of the game could be such a slog sometimes? Like, the ending lowkey reminded me of Origins and fighting the darkspawn and archdemon with the help of the people you built relationships with along the way, which was very cool. But I felt like all of those faction relationships were very shallow. Maybe we should have been able to talk to more people (with menus and branching dialogue) in the factions and do more sidequests to feel more attached?

So much marketing about the focus on companions but the romance was less of a focus than it has ever been and I didn't feel connected to, like, anyone except for Davrin and Assan. I didn't feel a single ounce of regret with my choices (I'm sorry, I don't get the hype around Harding... she was fine in inquisition but really didn't stand out to me. She had little depth imo as well...). We barely got to talk to them and learn their history and likes outside of caracitures of who they were. Yes, I get it Neve is a noir detective, Lucas is coffee man and spite is coffee demon, bellara is quirky and autistic coded. And none of those things make well-rounded characters.

Really wished I had romanced anyone but Lucanis because I thought he was bland (sue me) and Zevran doesn't exist for whatever is going on in that revisionist take on the crows. Also, I hate the sleeping together before the final battle trope. So much of that build up and romance should have happened earlier. The romance simply felt new to me and I didn't feel invested at all.

Speaking of revisionist history, how the hell was the enslavement of elves in tevinter barely mentioned? Or racism? I saw an excuse about someone having to write that and like... bffr. You can't just ignore hard topics. That is where the depth and nuance in dragon age comes from (not nuance in slavery mind you, but think fenris' opinion on mages because of his history). As the inquisitor, my lavellan constantly experienced racism and I loved it because I am female minority and have experience with those issues. Working around it or plowing though sometimes was gratifying and fun. I don't people see racism in a video game and automatically think "oh no bioware is racist?" If that's the issue.

Davrin was my favorite companion and i really wished I had romanced him. Might replay as a grey warden man and do that because I think that would be very cool plot wise. I think I also got what I wanted out of his companion quests. Like, they answered what I wanted and had a satisfying ending.

Also, I liked Bellara so much more than I thought I would, especially because I chose her at the very end and she becomes blighted. Her dialogue is very rough though and not appropriate for the tone of this game 97% of the time.

Still cannot get over how bad the dialogue was. Truly egregious. Very anachronistic and took me out of the story nearly every time some characters opened their mouths. The main offender being my Rook who could literally only be nice and very "go team." She sounded like my manager trying to convince me that our job is made of one big, happy family no matter what dialogue I chose. Also, I wanted to throw my controller at my monitor every time Neve said "the job."

Taash's storyline really could have been something great because there were glimmers when I really loved them, but the anachronistic phrases and lack of skill with their storyline really killed it for me. I have a lot of thoughts on this because I really think it was EXTREMELY lazy and showed a real lack of care for either nonbinary rep (which can still happen with own voices) or simply writing for a piece of existing media. I could think of many easy ways to improve it. Some glimmers are even in the game. Like when the spirit addresses Taash as cousin instead of sister? Why not more of this? Also what was with the push ups for misgendering and then immediately being like, oh saying sorry a bunch makes it more for the person who fucked up? Like... the pushups are different?? And definitely don't draw more attention to an insulting or dysphoric moment?

All that aside, I was decently happy as a solalavellan girlie. I can 100% see why people don't like Solas and might have chosen endings that end badly for him, but I feel strongly that he was the best written character in he last two games.

Had a fun enough time. Happy the game finally got made. Ending really saved this from being a 5/10 for me. Would rank around 7/10 rounded up.

Don't think the game needs a dlc, but there is always a part of me that wants to play through rebuilding in the aftermath of a near world ending fight that destroyed everything. Like, take me to Ferelden. Is my husband, the king, okay?

Desperately, desperately hoping that there is another game that is a true return to form to the first three games (yes, even 2 because the characters are so, so well loved) and more like the ending of veilguard. Also that we get a return of world states meaning something. Hate to be that bitch, but genuinely hoping Baldur's Gate raised expectations for story-based, rpg games and Bioware survives to bring back my favorite game series to what I loved so much.

Fingers crossed the next one (is made at all) doesn't take 10 years.

[awardenandacrow]

Naimeryn Fun Facts!

This has been expanded from it’s previous version.

Naimeryn can’t swim, but is fascinated with water (especially *clean* water). She has pretty much been an indoor cat her whole life (not so much by choice) and so she tends to favor armor that allows her to be barefoot (even though her feet are NOT calloused and she’s always cutting them on rocks and losing her balance and shit because she isn’t used to it), because any time she finds a shallow body of water, she impulsively has to step into it. She says it helps her feel grounded, and helps her forget stress and clear her mind. She and Neve bond over this effect the water has on them, though in different ways.

Eternal ray of sunshine, holy fuck. Thumbs up Rook 99% of the time with absolutely *terribly* timed jokes sprinkled in here and there for good measure. Lucanis loves this about her, especially given the bleak, dark state of things they’re facing (Alistair parrallel, anyone? No? Just me? Okay.). Gets more aggressive only on behalf of those she cares about.

Makes decisions emotionally rather than tactically. Up to her recruitment by Varric, and well into their time together, her heart had yet to steer her wrong, and so she trusts herself to make the best decision possible with what she has available to her at the time. Since stepping up as the leader of the Veilguard, this confidence in herself has take a few blows, particularly where Neve is concerned.

Romantically awkward AF. She’s got flirting down to a science, and will absolutely flirt her ass off to someone she’s interested in, but she’s terrible at gauging if someone is interested back. The few times she’s thought someone had also caught feelings, she’s been rejected, and so she always assumes people like her as just a friend. She’ll flirt endlessly if Lucanis doesn’t make the first move (she may be doomed). She’s also been burned by someone flirting back just to get something from her, and so if someone is flirting with *her*, she tends to mistrust them (cough cough Illario).

Unrelated (definitely related): when she blushes, the tips of her ears turn the deepest shade of red.

She got the snake tattoo on her head on a dare from fellow Joining initiate Amaya, who thought she was too “soft” to get one — especially a symbol so painfully tied to her past. When she came back from a night out with it literally in her forehead, no one questioned how “soft” she was again. A few years later she was assigned to help the librarian, and became somewhat of a warden history buff, and got the griffon tattoo on her left thigh. She’s *very* bitter she didn’t get the “we found a clutch of griffon eggs” memo.

She keeps a diary, and has never shared it with anyone. She tries to write in it daily, though recently she’s been falling asleep before getting all of her thoughts out on paper.

Her mother used to call her Naimy. Only *very* close friends get to call her that. Everyone in the party would absolutely be allowed to call her that if they chose.

Canonically sucks at choosing a flattering blush. I told myself I was gonna change her appearance to a better blush, but I never remember to do it, so it’s just a Thing. Her blush is too bright. She likes it. Shut up.

The scars on her shoulders and upper back are from her time as a slave to a Tevinter magister. She was small and quick, and usually avoided punishment for her shenanigans… but not always. The scars on her face are newer, from her confrontation with the ogre right before Varric recruited her. She was fighting it and spun right into the claws of a genlock. As Varric notes to Neve, she has a tendency to think in straight lines — meaning she focuses on what’s in front of her, even on the battlefield, and so often leaves herself open to flanking attacks or being taken by surprise from behind (a la Evka’s rescue in the wetlands. Evka was there that day. Evka will protect that stupid squishy elf mage at all costs.). Scars on her arms and legs all have stories — usually doing dumb shit around Weisshaupt, getting caught in booby traps, falling off of things, etc. The scars on her stomach and chest are the one story she doesn’t tell — all anyone knows is they happened before she became a slave to the magister in Tevinter.

Natural hair color is a pale, sandy blonde. She started dyeing it because she thought it was “prettier.” When she saw herself with blue-black hair for the first time, it was the first time she ever *felt* pretty, and she knew she’d never go back to not dyeing it. She was seventeen.

Absolutely cannot hold her liquor. You WILL drink her under the table (and then the floor, and then easily bury her in the basement as a joke). Just another thing that made her an outsider even in the Warden ranks. Davrin finds it concerning. Taash thinks it’s cute. Cue snippet idea of Taash returning from the Hall of Valor with Rook slung, passed out, over their shoulder. It’s gonna happen. You’ve been warned.

Naimeryn’s catchphrase, probably: I think “winging it” is actually a highly underrated life strategy and I don’t know why you look so concerned.

On the face of it, no one can figure out why the fuck THIS is Varric’s second-in-command. Literally all she has going for her is sometimes she gets lucky. And she’s got an arm (a la chucking a stool, knocking out the First Warden…).

Embroidery is her hobby, which she taught herself out of boredom over years in Weisshaupt basically being a “trophy recruit” (First Warden’s words). She has a carry strap that she made for slinging her staff across her back, and she embroiders a new symbol on it any time she overcomes something. The first symbol is a barely-recognizable set of crossed daggers, meant to represent Saimaeria, whom she idolizes. She currently is adding a symbol for each of her companions — a lyrium crystal for Harding, a cat for Neve, a writing implement for Bellara, a ginger wort truffle for Davrin and Assan, a dragon with Taash’s horns, the bouquet of flowers she and Emmrich put together for his parents. She hasn’t decided what to embroider for Lucanis. This skill has also come in handy over the years for stitching up her own wounds… which may partially account for just how many old injuries are now scars, as she was doing that long before she taught herself actual techniques.

Really, *really* likes animals. Pets all the dogs and cats. Hugs Assan daily. He’s kind of sick of her (he’s not. He loves cuddle time with Rook).