#isana negat

[2mercia2furious]

meanwhile, in the anderfels...

[postcardsfromheapside]

Some backgrounds

[kmackatie]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Act Two, part fifteen

[x]

[chichiricatsan]

Some of my fav screenshots I've taken over my first few playthroughs of Veilguard.

[thetamegamer]

Two talls and a small for Harding's Hero of the Veilguard quest.

[sky--phantom]

Photo mode pics of Isana Negat

[suranastair]

More Veilguard screens [ 2/? ] - Free to use for whatever 👌 [ Part 1 ]

[storybookhawke]

Isana Negat Dragon Age: The Veilguard ー locations (6/ ∞)

[imperatoralicia]

Sometimes you just need to go on a mountain vacation with your good dwarf friend.

[demonsbanebard]

I have been obsessed, thinking about your LI in Dragon age The Veilguard. How they cope with Rook being gone, especially Emmrich, who is supposed to be the fade expert.

What does he do when he can’t use his knowledge to save the one he loves?

So I wrote some angst about it. With a kind ending because I’m not completely heartless!

The idea to craft another dagger is borne of pure desperation. He knows it’s unlikely to work, but he has to try something. Sitting around is out of the question. The team is desperate for any type of direction, any sort of hope, and Emmrich quickly begins handing down a list of items he needs.

He and Harding go to Isana Negat. It’s full of darkspawn and blight, but it’s the only place he knows they have a chance of finding Lyrium pure enough to begin. He can’t even touch the glowing substance directly, has to ask Harding to carry it for him, but it doesn’t matter. He knows Rook would do whatever it took to save him.

She wasn’t supposed to die before him. Not after that ridiculous fight they had. Not after everything he still wants to say, all the adventures they had yet to have. The tears are so common now he barely notices when they start and stop, only becoming frustrated when they blur his vision and smudge his frantic writing.

Everyone tiptoes around him as he works, his once immaculate study is strewn with books and scribbles of half-formed theories on parchment. Even Taash is trying their best. They know all about things unsaid. How it tears you up inside.

Manfred has discovered that he is most useful tidying up and bringing tea. The others pass the skeleton material and food to bring to the distraught necromancer. Emmrich is much less likely to snap at his beloved skeleton friend.

Less being the operative word.

Most attempts to console him stop within the first two weeks.

He’s taken to carrying a chess piece with him. Stolen —borrowed, he reminds himself— from Rook’s own set. There are indents in his palm from worrying the wooden castle and it’s not enough but it’s all he has.

He’s exhausted, his hands are burned and raw from collapsed spells and the proximity to this much pure Lyrium. Even those cut off from the fade, the dwarves and the tranquil, cannot be near this much pure Lyrium for extended periods. For a mage as studied as he is, it’s pure and focused misery to even be in the same room. Agonizing enough that he, too, wishes he could be cut from his nightmares. Sleep is fleeting, painful, and filled with images of Rook, promising to speak with him after the mission.

The physical pain ebbs once the last of the sealing spells settle and make the dagger safe to handle with bare hands. Contact with the blade still feels like electricity beneath his skin, but it’s static and not the lightning he has been battling for days now.

Lucanis brings him coffee and offers assistance, but the Crow can’t help. Not with this. The assassin gets to hold his beloved Neve close, and Emmrich feels the loss of Rook and Bellara both so keenly it’s hard to keep upright.

So when Lucanis suggests he rest. That he take a break while Rook, his Rook, is in the fade… he snaps.

The mage lights in his room flicker, letting the red of the fade bleed through. The uncontrolled magic whips the papers in his room into a frenzied whirlwind. He hasn’t lost control like this since his magic first manifested, and when Lucanis reaches for his dagger out of instinct, a dark part of him wonders how far he would have to push to get the assassin to end his suffering.

The surge of magic comes to an abrupt end when strong arms tighten around him. Like a candle blown out, the wind dies and the lights shift back to cancel out the red hue. It takes a moment for his sluggish mind to wrap around the idea that Lucanis, a notorious mage killer, and recent God-killer, is hugging him.

“Emmrich. I am sorry, but this has to stop. When Rook comes back, I am not going to get my ass handed to me for letting you work yourself to death.”

Of course. His Rook is the picture of kindness. Of caring. How many times has he received a gentle chiding to let things lie until the morning? If his love knew how he was pushing himself…

And the picture in his mind is so wildly clear, of Rook dealing out a tongue lashing so severe as to make a man who killed a God cower, that he breaks in two.

Emmrich’s composure crumbles and he sobs as Lucanis holds him. All of the emotions he’s been holding back from pure exhaustion, using work to push everything else back… it all comes out and the Crow before him understands what it’s like.

They stay there for a while, until the older man stops shaking. Emmrich goes to wipe his tears and finds more beard growth than he has ever allowed in his adult life. How long has he been here, agonizing? Surely it has only been days and not weeks.

Lucanis’s voice is rough as he speaks. “Go and lay down, my friend.” The assassin clears his throat and the guilt in his eyes is as impossible to miss as the redness of held back tears. He clasps Emmrich on the shoulder. “Neve has an idea about the enchantments on the dagger, now that it’s safe to handle. I’ll have a cup of coffee and food ready when you wake up. Then you can shave that thing off of your face so Rook can actually recognize you when we save her.“

“Lucanis… thank you. I apologize for my outburst earlier.”

“Don’t thank me, I just drew the short straw. I can not prove it, but I’m sure Taash cheated,” he says with a small amount of forced levity. Lucanis moves to leave and then pauses, sighing deeply to add, “And… It could have been Neve. Rook saved her. Maker forgive me for being grateful, but I owe Rook too many debts not to save her now.”

The air is lighter than it has been in days as the dagger leaves his room. Emmrich does, indeed, go to lay down. Thankfully he only feels the crushing weight of guilt for this break for a single moment before his exhausted mind shuts down.

As always, his dreams are harried. Visions of Rook running, shattered statues of Bellara and Davrin swirling around her as she climbs an endless spiral staircase.

When he wakes, it’s impossible to tell how much time has passed, but it’s too long. Lucanis keeps his word, and there is food and coffee waiting for him. He doesn’t taste it, only eats so that his magic is at full capacity.

His appearance in the mirror is worse than he feared. Haggard and dingy. There’s a moment where he considers using magic to clean up his beard, but remembers how he lectured Rook on the importance of rituals, and so he retrieves his brush and razor.

He’s halfway through his bath when he catches the thread of an idea. It unspools beautifully, and he’s barely able to wrap a towel around his waist before he has a quill in his hand, still dripping water across the floor. If he could… yes!

A wild idea, but he has to try. His usually immaculate handwriting is long gone, and he manages to dress as the idea finishes coalescing. He grabs the parchment, ink barely dry, and runs into the library, calling for the remnants of the Veilguard.

They look at him with confusion as he explains, but he’s not sure if the explanation is beyond their depth or if he’s raving like a madman, but they gear up to support him anyway.

Lucanis gently points out that his shirt isn’t buttoned correctly, and Taash suggests that he doesn’t smell as he usually does, and that perhaps his cologne might help Rook find him.

He very nearly launches into an explanation of fade physics and the chemical composition of scent and its inability to travel through a non physical space, but thankfully realizes the comment for the sentiment it was meant to carry.

The chess piece sits on his desk as they set out to find their Rook.

When her hand clasps his arm through the fade tear, when she tumbles on top of him and knocks the air from his lungs, he swears to never let her go again.

Emmrich has never considered himself a selfish man, but he keeps a hand on Rook. On his Rook as she reorients herself. As she recounts how she escaped a prison built for Gods.

He knows he should let her rest. Knows she needs time to recover, but he takes her to the necropolis anyway. He recognizes her indomitable spirit, has acquainted himself with the differences between those living and otherwise, but he has to be certain that this Rook is the one he fell in love with and not some spirit that has taken her form.

And once he is, he pulls her close, apologizing profusely, through tears at times, for how long it took to find her. And she forgives him, because of course she does. And he kisses her as though it is the first and last time.

Thankfully, she seems just as desperate to assure herself that he’s here as well. Through the heat and sweat of mortal embrace, they pass what could possibly be their last night alive in the comfort of each other’s arms.

[kmackatie]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Act Two, part twenty-one

[x]

[hyperions-light]

hey I was planning another post today but instead let’s talk about how much I love that there’s not really a ‘good’ ending to the companion plotlines in Veilguard. It reminds me of Leliana and Alistair’s plotlines in DAO in that what you choose says more about the player/protagonist than anything

I just finished Isana Negat a second time, and I did the other ending and I thought it was just as good. Like, yeah, Harding does deserve to be angry! They did fucking get everything taken away from them! It’s so painful and horrific; yes you can, and should, be mad! But also Harding prioritizing her very real love for and compassion towards other people is not wrong. It’s just different! It’s just Rook’s friend/lover asking them for advice, and Rook giving it! You know, like in real life except with huge magical rock giants

And okay I’m never going to kill Illario because I think it would make Luca really sad and he has enough problems, Whoops I misremembered this, I don’t think you can kill Illario actually. I love that for Luca <3 But yk, I’m probably still not going to imprison him. but I can see it! Because the cycle has to end, right? The violence and infighting of the Crows endlessly attacking each other over power is part of what allowed the Antaam to get a foothold in Antiva, because there was like a double agent or something (if I’m remembering right from Tev Nights). Some kind of ending needs to be made to this endless violence. And I suppose it depends on how retributive Rook is, which is a great question to ask of the player (one that is asked repeatedly throughout the game). It’s not like Illario didn’t do anything, you know! He probably deserves punishment. But Rook, as they always can at various points, can be merciful, can choose absolution. Wow no, I’m glad I was wrong I love it more like this.

And oh boy, I LOVED the ending of Emmrich’s quest, don’t even get me started! Like!! I thought it was going to be ‘well obviously we HAVE to save Manfred’, but how Emmrich talks about accepting his death and his sacrifice convinced me! I was like alright man, this is a real choice! I actually did make him a lich last time (made a lot of sense from a Watcher perspective, imo) and not only was the cutscene sick as hell, but the follow-up was so funny and I got some really sad Spite dialogue which fucking wrecked me. It was great— seriously, his plotline is one of my favorites in the whole game.

And Davrin’s! I’ve already expounded at length about how much I like his quest line and how it ties into the Grey Wardens, but I really think both of his options for the griffons are so workable, because you know the Grey Wardens, especially under Antione and Evka, aren’t going to hurt those little guys again! But also the scenes with Eldrin are so endearing, and Davrin’s hope for a brighter future for them is so sweet and genuine. It’s hard to pick! It’s about Rook's perspective!

Neve's I'll admit I don't vibe with as much just because of the like 'trust the authorities' angle, but i haven't tried saving Minrathous yet and I think it would be sooooo involving as a Shadow Dragon especially. Because that's what they're fighting for, right? That better Minrathous where they CAN be sure that if they send the insane cultist lady to prison she’s going to stay there? But there’s always the practical consideration of people’s lives being at stake NOW, of Neve needing her friends safe NOW. And just killing Aelia ensures she will never be an issue again. So I can see both angles for sure

And Taash ;-; oh, Taash. I haven’t posted about them that much yet because they make me very emotional and it’s hard to organize thoughts like that. But I really love their quest, and their struggle to define themselves. And look, I know people wanted the option to tell them they could be both, but like as a person who has lived a similar experience, it really feels sometimes like the world is making you choose. It can feel like you’re not enough of either thing for anyone. And there are parts of your identity that you will have to make a choice on, and I think it’s trying to speak to that. I did the Rivaini one, and it’s like… well, they’re embracing the culture of Rivain, but it’s not like anyone is ever going to look at them and NOT see a Qunari. You can’t get away from that. What you choose to do in response is a real dilemma and I think that if you engage with the text genuinely you can see what Trick was doing. Also, there is a really great dialogue from Rook that I think gives more context to the discussion; they can say that they have been many things, and it’s important to take what works from each experience and make it part of yourself. So I don’t think Taash’s plot is trying to make them throw away any of themselves, just defining priorities. (Sorry, that got long. Feelings, opinions about that one)

And I don’t think Bellara’s is obvious, either, especially with how they involve the Nadas Dirthalen in her personal plot. This is a thing that is really emotionally and culturally significant to her, but at the same time it is part of what hurt her brother and ultimately took him away from her. She’s really preoccupied with not causing harm by her actions; she spends the whole game worried about it! And even though Rook doesn’t see the dangerous elements of the repository, that doesn’t mean they’re not there. The puzzle quest you can find in Arlathan proves that other people besides Cyrian were taken in by Anaris. And also, there’s the plot thread they briefly touched on in the last game which is that the culture the Dalish have built, that they have RIGHT NOW, is not wrong. But it’s also important to remember history, even if it’s unpleasant or could be dangerous, which is another thing you can discuss with Bellara during the game. So there’s no wrong choice! It’s just about Rook and Bellara and what’s important from their perspectives.

Anyway it was super refreshing to have these kinds of choices! It reminds me of the best character choices in DAI and DAO, especially, and I’m so happy they carried those things forward and improved on them.

[flowersforthemachines]

Useless Veilguard fact of the day: Day 89

Harding and Emmrich are the only companions whose personal quest-specific locations contain Timelost Hoards chests with unique gear (there Is 1 such chest in the Kal-Sharok outpost, 1 in Isana Negat, and 1 in Blackthorne Manor).

Check out the tag for more useless facts: #useless davg fact of the day!

[himluv]

Spiral

Chapter 23(?!) of Say My Name (Say it Twice) is here! Find it below, or head over to AO3 to read from the beginning.

After a harrowing day in Isana Negat, Lucanis decides to finally tell Rook how he feels.

cw: PTSD, panic attacks

Lucanis reread the parchment for the third time. Teia had sent word, Viago’s people had found something. Something big enough that the Talons wanted to meet outside of the city. Outside of Illario’s reach.

Normally, he’d bring this straight to Rook. They needed to get to Dock Town, to the Cobbled Swan soon. And they would. But not tonight.

Tonight, he was just grateful they’d all made it out of Isana Negat alive. For a moment, he’d thought all was lost, that Rook and her big, soft, foolish heart chose to stay and die rather than leave Harding to the Titan’s rage. 

He would have run, had tried to get Rook to run. But, she’d refused, and of course he couldn’t leave her to face Harding alone. So, he’d followed her up to that stone platform, certain it was their final moments. 

And, yet again, Rook proved that he should know better than to doubt her heart. Against all odds, she’d reached Harding, soothed her rage and reminded her of who she really was under all that pain. Lucanis was still rocked with awe each time he thought of it. 

Was there anyone Rook couldn’t reach?

But, their misadventure in the mines also left him feeling uncertain. Not about Rook, he was more sure about her than ever, but about himself. She had done the impossible time and gain, but she was still mortal. And they were still hurtling toward a confrontation with two ancient, blighted gods. Even after all their wins, the odds of victory were long. Too long. And if the Cantori Diamond had taught him anything, it was that, eventually, their luck would run out. 

If something happened to them, shouldn’t she know how he felt? Could he survive losing her, knowing he’d never told her? But would it make her grief that much worse if he did, and he was the one lost? Or would the knowledge of his affection be a comfort in the aftermath?

Tell her, Spite hissed. You want. She wants.

Lucanis knew the demon was right. And, he could feel the gods’ noose tightening. When they did face Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, it would be all or nothing. There were no guarantees anyone would survive, and they were running out of time. 

Yes. He would tell her. Now. He’d delayed long enough.

Yesssssss!

Lucanis left Teia’s message on his side table, checked his hair in the mirror, and stepped out into the dining hall. Dinner had been a quiet affair. Harding had promptly gone to her quarters and passed out upon their return. Taash had brought her dinner and also not returned. He and Rook had both been reserved, tired after the physically and emotionally draining day. 

As he crossed the courtyard, Lucanis felt a flicker of doubt. Maybe tonight wasn’t the right time. It’d been a difficult enough day without adding an emotional confession to the end of it. And there was still the matter of Illario and whatever Teia and Viago had learned. There was so much to do. 

And by that logic, he could put this off forever. 

No! Spite barked. Tell Rook. Tonight!

Right. If he waited for the perfect moment, he could always find a reason not to have this conversation. He was doing this. Now. 

It wasn’t a long walk to Rook’s quarters, but Lucanis took it slow, rehearsing in his mind what he would say to her. 

Rook. I don’t want to wait any longer. We might not have long and–

No. Too grim. 

Rook. I want… no, I need you–

No. Too clichéd. Even if it was true, he couldn’t steal his confession from the pages of one of his romance novels.   

Just. Tell her. The truth! Spite growled, the demon’s tone distinctly irritated. 

Right. The truth. He could do that. And Rook deserved to hear only the truth from him. He looked up when his path met with her door. He knew she was in there, because Spite had led him here and not to the music room. The truth. Just, tell her the truth. He took a deep, steadying breath, and then knocked on her door. 

It took a moment for her to answer, and when she did she peered around the door with a puzzled look on her face. 

“Lucanis?”

He gave her a tight smile. Mierda, he was nervous. “Rook, I–”

“Come in,” she said, swinging the door open. 

Right. Yes. Good. This wasn’t a conversation to be had in a hallway. He stepped through into the room and froze at the sight of the floor-to-ceiling aquarium. Behind him, he heard the door close. Heard Rook say something. Both sounds were muffled, as if heard from underwater. 

Nooooo, Spite hissed. No! Get out!

He was out. Had been out for months, but the shimmering blue light filtered through the water still turned his blood to ice.

Lucanis closed his eyes and took another deep breath. This was Rook’s room, not the Ossuary. Zara was dead. She couldn’t hurt him anymore. And he would never see that prison again. 

“Lucanis?”

That voice. Rook’s voice. She was the reason he was free, the one who had come to save him. And yet, when she put a tentative hand on his shoulder, he flinched. He spun to face her, hopefully camouflaging his knee-jerk response to her touch. 

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes darted across his face, searching for some clue.

“Nothing,” he lied. Which was stupid – it was painfully obvious something was very, very wrong.

Rook frowned at that and gestured to the green velvet chaise in the center of the room. “Maybe you should sit down.”

He nodded. His knees felt weak, his chest suddenly so heavy. Lucanis let Rook lead him to the chaise, his eyes on her hand where it hooked onto his elbow. He hadn’t noticed this touch – he was afire and frozen all at once. Was he breathing?

“Rook,” he said before she could drag him any closer to the glass. His voice sounded strange. Far away and thin. He licked his lips, eyes darting at the aquarium glass, then back to her face. Breathe. Just breathe and say what you came to say. “Rook, I–”

Neve’s voice rang through his head, ‘even mentioning the Ossuary sends you spiraling.’

Spiraling? No! Spite shouted, face pressed to the glass. DROWNING!

“Lucanis?” Again, her voice pulled him back. And when he saw the concern, the fear in her eyes, he knew the real truth. 

He closed his eyes. “Rook, I can’t.” He turned his back on the glass wall, blinking back panicked tears. Mierda, what was happening to him?

Rook stood beside him, her hand still at his elbow. Then she cursed. “Shit! It’s the aquarium isn’t it?”

She didn’t wait for him to reply. She dragged him from her quarters and down to the music room. He followed her, numb and panting against the frozen blocks of his ribcage. It wasn’t until she pressed him down into his usual chair that he felt like his head was back above water. 

Slowly, his chest loosened and he was able to take slow, deep breaths. Eventually, his pulse settled and he became more aware of his surroundings. Rook crouched before him, a hand on his knee. Her other hand was in his, gripped tight. 

“Hey,” she said as he blinked at her. 

He leaned back, resting his head against the wall and covering his face in both hands. Then he let out a string of profanities that would make Teia proud. 

After a beat of silence, Rook said, “I think I understood most of that.”

Lucanis groaned from behind his hands. Leave it to her to tease him at a moment like this.

“Are you okay?” She asked. 

He took a deep breath and felt the last shards of icy panic break away. “I’m all right,” he said. Still, he kept his face covered. 

“Will you look at me?”

No. He didn’t want to see her concern. Or her tenderness. He didn’t want to face the proof that she’d seen him at his worst. He would rather vanish into dust than look at her in that moment. 

“Give me a moment,” he said.

“Okay.”

He expected her to move, to sit at the piano, maybe even to play, but Rook did not leave his side. Her hand stayed on his knee, rubbing gentle, soothing circles above his kneecap. For a moment he let her touch anchor him, his mind swirling like crema in a freshly brewed cup of coffee. 

Mierda, he needed a drink. 

What was the matter with him? How could an aquarium unravel him so completely? How could Rook ever trust him after this? How could he fulfill his contract, how could he keep her safe if all it took to unmake him was a glass wall of water? This was worse than he’d realized. He was worse.

When he didn’t speak or move for what felt like ages, Rook tapped his knee. “Lucanis?”

He grunted.

“I can hear you thinking.”

Lucanis sighed and let his hands fall into his lap. But he kept his face tilted up toward the ceiling. He couldn’t look at her. 

“It’s okay,” she said. “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed.” Rook shook her head. “I should have realized the aquarium might bring up… bad memories. I should have warned you.”

“You can’t take the blame for everything, Rook.” His voice sounded so tired, even to him. 

“No,” she said. “But, I can try.”

He shook his head. “And why would you warn me? It’s not like you expected me to knock on your door.”

A beat of silence hung between them. “Not tonight, no,” she said. “But, I thought, maybe, eventually–”

Lucanis looked down at her in surprise. Did she mean…? She thought about him coming to her room? In the middle of the night?

Judging from her blush, yes. Yes, she did.

Rook smiled up at him. “There you are.”

He didn’t look away from her, even though he desperately wanted to. He felt… fragile. Like a single misplaced touch would shatter him and he’d fall to pieces all over again. But, if there was anyone he trusted not to break him, it was Rook. Lucanis put his hand on hers where it still rested on his knee, squeezed her fingers in his. 

He could tell her how he felt, now, and she would accept him just as he was – fragile and half-shattered. He knew that, deep in his chest. He felt her acceptance in the weight of her hand on his knee, in the weight of her gaze. He should tell her now. He wanted to. 

But hadn’t this… episode proved him right? Like Neve had said, with everything he was dealing with, how was it right for him to squeeze Rook in? He’d thought he was ready, but he couldn’t even step inside her room. There was still so much he needed to do, needed to deal with before he could pull her into his life and not hate himself for it. 

Lucanis squeezed her hand one more time, and then released her. Rook took the cue and removed her hand from his knee. His leg tingled at the loss of her touch. 

Rook stood and put her hands on her hips. “So, what did you come to talk to me about?”

Lucanis stared at her for two panicky heartbeats, then remembered Teia’s message. “Viago and Teia sent word. They want to talk. About Illario.”

Spite growled from behind Rook at mention of his cousin.

“Whatever it is, they wish to speak away from Treviso. Away from anyone who might be listening. They won’t put more to paper.”

“Oh,” she said. She sounded disappointed. 

“I need to meet with them, as soon as possible.”

“All right,” she said, nodding. “We’ll head out first thing tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Rook,” he said. He hoped the weight of his voice told her he meant it for more than just their impending trip to Minrathous. 

“Of course, Lucanis,” she said, and the warmth in her eyes told him she understood completely. Just as she always did. 

Lucanis couldn’t bring himself to confess his feelings to Rook now. Not after this mess. But he was also desperate not to be alone just yet. 

“Rook?” He called as she turned toward the door. 

She stopped and looked at him. 

“Can I ask another favor?”

She smiled. “Always.”

He smiled at that, even as he felt the heat bloom in his cheeks. “Will you play for me?”

She laughed. “Now?”

He shrugged. “If it’s a bother–”

Rook waved his words away and sat at the piano. “I did say ‘any time’.”

“You did,” he murmured. He watched, rapt, as she settled into the instrument. She played the same notes she’d hunted out that first night he’d found her in this room, but she’d obviously been practicing. Her fingers were sure as they danced across the keys, drawing the song out, coaxing it into a reverberating being with such tenderness it made him ache. 

Lucanis had attended more than his fair share of operas, had listened to live musicians countless times at parties in Villa Dellamorte and in the close intimacy of cafés. None of them compared to Rook playing for him –privately– at his request. 

He had basically zero experience with what made him… want. But in that moment, watching Rook’s hands, seeing the expression on her face shift to match the tone of the song, Lucanis’s whole body suffused with delicious heat. He always wanted Rook, in some low, background fashion. But this was different, pointed and–

Hungry, Spite hissed. 

Yes. It felt a lot like hunger. Or, a craving. He’d expected his feelings for her to diminish in the wake of his embarrassment, but instead they only seemed stronger. That she could see him like that, and still care? It made something in his chest open up, vibrating like the notes through the room. Lucanis felt uncoiled and strung tight all at once, so much so that he had to close his eyes and focus on his breathing. 

He couldn’t tell Rook how he felt now, because if he did he didn’t think he could keep from devouring her whole. That wasn’t what he wanted when they finally spoke about this… thing developing between them. He didn’t want reckless passion and possible regrets in the aftermath. He wanted them both to be sure, to have no illusions or misunderstandings. And right now he was too twisted up with his panic and Illario.

So, he took his pleasure in the music she played for him, imagined her sitting at the instrument in Villa Dellamorte’s ballroom, maybe in an elegant, backless dress that shimmered as golden as the sunset in Arlathan Forest. It was a pleasing thought, one Lucanis was more than happy to sit with for as long as Rook wanted to play.  

They would go to Minrathous tomorrow and deal with whatever news the Talons had about his cousin. And maybe, after, he could finally tell her how he truly felt. 

[hallayeah]

so… apparently there are two titans at Isana Negat? and a strange green glow behind them 👀

[mosswiind]

rook gets the calling first, young even for a warden

davrin staying topside because he can't leave assan

begging rook not to go to the deep roads, knowing that he can't stop them from going

forehead to forehead, silently sobbing, knowing that it's the last night

davrin, thinking about following, knowing that it's not his time

davrin, walking rook to isana negat - symbolic, where harding left her anger and hurt - and watching them descend

assan, confused, sleeping in rook's empty bed for months

davrin, living a long life by warden standards, feeling guiltier for each passing year

davrin carving rook's figure a little taller, just like they asked