#just use veilguard as a prompt at this point

[littlegalerion]

The fanfiction scene for Dragon Age is about to get insane. With the recent leaks on Veilguard, I just wanna say: write your own ending. We ain't getting a good conclusion, and we deserve one.

So come forth, great multiverse tides of fanfiction stories, and show me your conclusions to the great Dragon Age franchise's story!

[mythals-whore]

"The worst kind of person is someone who makes you feel bad, dumb, or stupid for feeling excited about something." -Taylor Swift

I've been putting these thoughts together for a while now, but while there's discussion going on today about so-called 'toxic positivity' as well as some of the other Veilguard critical takes, I'm finally going to write it down.

I liked The Veilguard. A lot. And I'm not going to qualify that with some statement about the things that could have been done better or even about the development hell it went through. Because "I liked The Veilguard" is a complete sentence, and in fact maybe I'll start saying it more, just like that. (:

Something about me is that I like Taylor Swift (I'm making a point) and I have liked Taylor Swift since I was eleven. And for 90% of that time, people have laughed at me for it, or told me that she isn't even a good singer or that she dates too much or that her music is immature. My own sister brings up how much she hates Taylor Swift constantly without prompt. And guess what?

I don't care.

I Do Not Care.

That may be your opinion. And believe it or not, that's fine!

It is, however, very weird when I am asked my favorite artist and I say Taylor Swift and people feel compelled to tell me how much they hate her/her music/that she's not talented. And then I am expected to argue and somehow try to justify why I like her/what her music means to me/why i connect with it.

Spoiler Alert: it never ever matters what I say.

And it's actually fine if you don't like the same things I like!! What's weird is to come into a space where people are talking about how much they like The Thing and you feel compelled to tell them they're wrong!

And admittedly, it's a little funny to me that the same Veilguard critics who say that DATV is "too black & white" also can't seem to see that they're doing the very thing they're critiquing!! "I am good and smart for disliking this game and you are bad and stupid for liking it" is just a silly opinion to have on a video game and some of them say it with their whole chest.

So if you're a Veilguard critic and you're coming into the replies/reblogs of VG Positive posts just to talk about how we're stupid and wrong that's really odd!! And then, when we participate in the discourse you created, you call it 'toxic positivity'! It's almost like you're starting a fight you know we can't win because you're unwilling to change your opinion and you just want us to feel bad about ours!!! Which is, in my opinion, a strange way to spend your time.

In conclusion: You're weird for that, knock it off.

[mcflymemes]

DRAGON AGE: THE VEILGUARD PROMPTS PT 3 *  assorted dialogue from the third and fourth hour of the video game

my information was accurate.

now you realize the danger is real.

you are asking for knowledge no mortal in this world is privy to.

i need to know what makes you the right person to lead the fight.

i stopped you, didn't i?

i find a way to get the job done, whatever it takes.

how do we stop them from doing it?

that will give you time.

i gave no orders. all i offer are suggestions.

i... regret what happened.

you've gotta take point on this.

i can't do what you do.

i've barely been holding it together in the short time you've been out.

you just need to get it done.

remember when we first met?

you did most of the work.

you've got a knack for finding your way through the wildest shit i've ever seen, with a plan no one expects.

don't worry. i'll still be here to talk if you need me.

how are you feeling about it?

it doesn't matter how i feel about it.

you made a decision with the best information you had. sometimes you do that, and people end up hurt. or worse.

a good leader isn't someone who never makes mistakes. it's someone who admits when they make one.

not everyone was happy about my decision.

i wish i could be out there with you, [name].

you're here for leads.

who do we hire to fight that?

i've heard of you.

we don't even know what we lost.

you're busy. i shouldn't interrupt.

what's important is that you're happy.

if we forgot something so important, what else did we forget?

i don't expect you to have an answer.

thanks for letting me babble.

we're short on options.

i cannot protect you.

we can talk business when we arrive.

one day, i will see a knife through every would-be tyrant's throat.

sounds like there's more to it.

what i say doesn't leave this room.

you didn't think to tell me?

well, we're not going that way.

i can't believe all this is underwater.

we're looking for a killer.

who are you? who sent you?

they can use it to control me.

in return, i want help killing some things.

this is what success looks like.

we got your target.

the job's done.

we clearly have things to discuss... somewhere else.

i'm ready to get out of this place.

i don't need time. i need a target.

you just got here and already you want to leave again?

how do you get rid of them?

what's everyone talking about?

that can't be the only solution.

you're bleeding.

i know things have been complicated, but i'm glad you're here.

i owe you a debt.

[amurderandconspiracy]

Five Stages, Two Talons, and a lost little Crow

****Dragon Age Veilguard spoilers AHEAD, read at your own peril ****

>>> 

Follow up scene with Lucanis and Viago – After “Scents and Grief” and the letter This scene is prompted by what was not shown of the companions during the Regret Prison. Viago is a worried older brother, just do not tell him I said so. My Rook is a nonbinary Crow!Mage!Rook but this scene does not necessarily give any descriptions of Rook, other than their name, so you can inject your own into the scene if that helps you.

>>> 

The sound of the room’s double doors slamming woke him from his depressed slumber.  Darkness flooding his sight as he opens his eyes to the still dimness of the wardrobe and with a brief intake, the comforting perfume slips into his nose and settles into his lungs.  The feathers of the blanket brush against his skin and a crumpled parchment clutched in his hand falls to the floor of the wardrobe as he comes back to himself.  Remembrance dawns for a moment, chilling the brief warmth in his chest.  The void of anguish spreads and Lucanis starts to sink back down as his mind fights the web of miserable exhaustion and emptiness, only to remember that the loud sound of the double doors slamming woke him.

“Where the Maker are they!?” booms an angry voice laced with deeply seated fear and worry.  The familiar and irritated lilt of Viago’s voice travels through the stone chamber and bounces off the aquarium glass, barely muffled by the wardrobe doors.

Lucanis cannot seem to muster a mood to deal with Viago in this moment and Spite uses the lack of response from Lucanis to jump to the fore, responding with irritation and unkindness, “GET. OUT!”

Lucanis rolls his eyes, and directs a thought at Spite, thanks for that, pissing off Viago is not the best idea…especially when we failed to tell him what happened to Rook...

Spite seems to catch on this thought and tilts his head, NOT GONE. ROOK IS OURS; WE WILL FIND THEM. ADDER’S MUSTACHE CAN WAIT.

Lucanis goes to respond when the doors of the wardrobe are furiously pulled open, the flood of watery shimmering light from the aquarium casts a tint of greenish-blue into the dark cupboard, an enraged Viago speaking with clipped tones as he attempts to bodily drag Lucanis into the room, “Hiding Dellamorte? Answer me!” Viago is speaking through clenched teeth and the grip he manages on Lucanis’ gear feels like claws dug into flesh.

Lucanis’ emotional reserves may be numbed to the point of oblivion but his instincts are well honed and the hostile way that Viago is demanding Lucanis answer to him allows the cool exterior of indifference to slide into place as the innate need to defend himself and his safety takes hold.  Lucanis surges forward from his nest and uses the offset of Viago’s footing to push up and out of the wardrobe while grabbing the forearms of the raging Fifth Talon.  Viago senses the shift and tries to throw his mass to reorient the balance and allow Lucanis’ sprung energy to overbalance him.  In the same instance Viago attempts to drop his weight, Lucanis anticipates the use of encumbrance for leverage, feeling himself cross the center line and performs a slight spin to disengage, freeing his hands of Viago’s forearms and preparing for a more concerted response.

“Where are they, Dellamorte!?  Where is my…Rook?!” Viago seems to strain to contain an emotional reaction as he yells the final question and Lucanis makes a quick assessment, seeing the always brooding but usually composed Viago breathing irately; a wild look about his features.

Lucanis immediately disengages and holds up his hands, stepping just out of range. “Viago, I…” he responds with a stripe of shame and guilt seeping into his voice.

“Don’t you fucking dare!  Where is Rook?  And don’t you fucking say what you almost said…where is Fae!?” Viago steps forward, pressing the advantage, fear and anger mixing in his voice as he fights for some semblance of control to get an answer. An answer that does not involve apologies.

“They…were…pulled into the Fade…” Lucanis starts to explain, the guilt and the weight of his emotional decline is evident in the way his voice drops in timbre, almost breathy as he forces out words he has not wanted to say.

“And when in damnation were you going to tell me that a member of my House was in the bloody Fade? Were you going to leave me to wait obediently in Treviso without a single word?!” Viago continues to advance, though his shoulders are dropping as if a weight is dragging him past composure.

“We…I do not have answers. They were there…one moment…the next they were not and they cried my…” Lucanis swallows and stops then, unable to say more without losing face. “I was going to come to Treviso to tell you, to tell you to your face.” Lucanis almost pleads, the mask of the assassin’s calm drawing back to reveal a haunted expression.

Spite circles Viago, stalking and observing him. SMELLS LIKE POISONS…AND…ROOK. He seems perplexed by this and tilts his head like a bird, assessing the rumpled look of Viago’s hair and the puffiness of the skin below his eyes. DROWNED IN ANGER AND GRIEF. Spite steps closer at this point, knowing Viago cannot see or hear him.

Spite, back away. Viago is Fae’s teacher, their older brother of sorts. Do not push him. Lucanis mentally tries to pull Spite away from Viago.  Watching the man absorb the response.

Viago sees the strain on Lucanis’ face and the pieces of fragmented information starts to paint a saddened expression of understanding and commiseration, “Who and what do I have to kill to get them back…is there another of these so-called gods that we need to sacrifice to bring them home?” Viago looks directly into Lucanis’ eyes, the wheels of negotiations and plans already churning in his mind.

Lucanis hesitated for a moment, not knowing the right answer and after their little breakdown last night, he was not currently apprised of the battle plans or developments from the rest of the team.  He knew Emmrich had been formulating some theories; Neve as well.  Harding and Taash had immediately started reaching out to their contacts and network.  The loss of Davrin and Assan, and the capture of Bellara had not even been discussed, everyone avoiding the subject all together.  The team had been in shock, disassociated from the reality of their losses when they had mercifully escaped Tearstone Island following the firestorm that Elgar’nan had kicked up in response to the slaying of Ghilan’nain.

Viago looks at him in anticipatory silence, Lucanis shakes off his hesitation and responds with a voice of surety he is certainly not feeling, “Let us go down to the kitchen table, we can put on coffee and discuss with everyone our strategy going forward.” Lucanis steps forward then and places his hand on Viago’s arm, redirecting him with very little effort toward the doors.

“We will get them back Viago. We must.” Lucanis promises, not entirely to Viago, not allowing acceptance of anything less.

WE WILL. Spite affirms, settling into Lucanis with purpose and determination.

[alittlebitnerdy]

Helloooo!! For the prompts, could I ask for sparring turned sexy with a dash of I've been meaning to ask you something ?

Ty for your patience! Been chipping away at this and it just kept getting longer, enjoy! Prompt from Vorchagirl's Veilguard Prompts (please send me more these are great) This is pre-relationship rookanis :>

------------------

Rook shook out their hands, bouncing from foot to foot, “Ready?” Lucanis stood still as a statue, arms by his side, “Yes.”

They feigned right, ducking back left to dodge his immediate response. Hopping around his left side, they moved to strike but he was faster. Lucanis stepped gracefully and purposefully out of reach, then back as Rook retracted their fist.

Their brow furrowed as Lucanis remained stoic.

Spinning, they whirled a kick at him and he bent back to let it fly through the air. Using the momentum of the kick they quickly switched legs, spinning to kick again with the other.

Lucanis stepped to the right and then past them.

His every foot placement was firm, purposeful as a dancer, while Rook felt like a rabbit hopping around him.

“Why aren’t you hitting me” Rook demanded. “Why aren’t you?” they could almost sense a smirk in his words, knowing the quip was meant to bait them.

Rook’s hopping brought them backwards another foot, further from him. Lucanis circled them slowly, clearly waiting for them to try another attack. His stare was hard, cataloging their movement.

Their gray eyes flicked between his face and wherever they intended to hit next, every time.

Rook never stopped moving, always bouncing while stationary, trying to calculate their next step.

Sweat was beginning to trap the hair of their sideburns, where their long ears curved into the edge of their jawline. Rook spun to strike again, but Lucanis' eyes had not been watching theirs. It was too late to dodge, so he quickly caught their fist and tried to swing their arm backwards and into a hold. Rook kept moving however, slipping below his grasp and landing a playful chop to the back of his neck. “Dead. Your turn!” Rook huffed a smile, bouncing away out of reach again.

Lucanis sighed.

Distracted…

Shut up… He shook his head to silence Spite. His eyes analyzed Rook again. Their gaze darted between his face and hands now, preparing to defend.

Rook’s technique was sloppy but effective. Years of lost back alley fights had made their mark in every step they took.

It should be simple to neutralize them, if he weren’t getting so distracted.

His eyes caught on a bead of sweat rolling down their neck and disappearing into the collar of their shirt. Following what would’ve been its path had it not been interrupted by the linen garment, his gaze traveled down their chest to the waistband of their pants, drawn up high and cinched with a simple cord at their navel.

Solar plexus, but they’ll see it coming, so turn and kidney strike. With that plan in mind, he moved. He stepped quickly into Rook’s personal space, keeping low like he was trying to strike their stomach. As predicted, they swung both hands down to deflect him, and he spun past them. He swung his arm around their middle, pulling them backwards where their lower back met his hand – where a knife would’ve been in a real fight.

Rook froze in place, clearly startled by the quick maneuver. His arm around their middle felt as firm as a statue’s, locking them to his chest. “Dead,” He murmured softly. Rook felt his breath hit the shell of their pointed ear and shivered.

He released his grasp slowly, fingertips tracing the band of Rook’s pants before stepping back from them. Neither spoke as Rook stepped away, turning to face him again. Their eyes met for a second but Lucanis quickly looked away. That was too close, he chided himself, too intimate.

When his eyes returned to Rook he was stunned to see their shirt making its way over their face as they doffed it. They quickly wiped their face and neck with the discarded garment before tossing it aside, shaking out their hair. Their skin was tanned from days in the sun. A pale scar swirled down their right side, clearly magical in origin from Lucanis’ estimation. Clearly old and painful, to have scarred so badly meant they’d gone without healing magics as well. Defiance, punishment, but a badge of honor later. Spite murmured, as though reading the history of the scar off a page. Lucanis knew all too well that Rook had come from Tevinter. Rook blushed and huffed, “Yes, I used to have breasts, its complicated.” “What-? I-?” Lucanis flushed red, he hadn’t been caught staring at someone like this since he was a child, “That’s not what I…” “Oh? Oh, yes the other scars,” Rook chuckled, “Usually people are too polite to stare at those, but can’t take their eyes off my chest since its not what they expected.” Glancing back at Rook he could see the twin slash scars, edges much neater than the magic scar, at the curve of their pectoral muscles. “Forgive me, Rook, I…” his eyes met theirs, dark gray like a rolling storm. They stepped closer, “Yes, Lucanis?” “I've been meaning to ask you... ” his stomach wavered as Rook took another step towards him, now just an arms reach away.

He could smell them this close, the tang of sweat mixed with cedar.

“Hmm?” They leaned in closer, stormy eyes scanning his for a hint. Their faces were inches apart. Lucanis swallowed. His voice was low and soft, “What would you like for dinner tonight?”

Rook’s gaze softened, a small smile gracing their face, “I thought you’d never ask.”

[jean-optimal]

I'm here with some prompt. So, let Renesmee and Lucanis speak for you. they can do it best)

What first attracted your Rook to their LI? What attracted their LI to your Rook?

Renesmee: "I was attracted by his his kindness. He was like a knight in shining armor in front of me at the library of the villa where me and Viago lived. I was 14 when Catherina and her grandsons paid a visit there for the audience of the new Fifth Talon. She tried to unite the Houses much earlier before the storm approaching. So, it was a first time I and Lucanis met.

He was 20. Very nice. Very handsome. I was just staring at him and Illario with the adoration. Oh, Maker, they both were beautiful... Before Illario opened his mouth in my direction. I had my chest already growing since I was a teenager so... If translate his phrase from Antivan, it meant something like "Hey, gal, your brain grown to your tits, isn't it?" Actually, it was pretty rude, according to the point he was talking to the little Crow of House de Riva. Lucanis interrupted him and apologized... It all was because I accidentally overheard them briefing about their future contract. I was embarrassed so much for the interrupting! Of course, my alchemy studies dropped out of my head. But... I even didn't know how fateful will be this meeting for me in future.

We started to meet more, to talk between our studies and contracts. And once...

We started our relationship officially when I was 22. Before all happened, not so long before he became called 'The Demon of Vyranthium'. We accidentally took the contacts on the targets nearby each other. Two brothers here, at Treviso. And he saved me. And standing on the rooftop... I said the words I had in mind. "Te amo, mi corazon..." I still remember his surprise. He didn't expect such words from the other Crow. But... He accepted them. He relied on me. But we both didn't know what will spoil our relationship.

We broke up because of rumors. He believed them and doubted in me. In us. We argued, and once... He left me alone. I was broken. Then Illario found me... I don't remember what happened but I remember myself waking up next morning in the cold bed. Lucanis already left and... I even didn't manage to find him, to say 'I'm sorry'...

My life gave me a chance to fix it when Varric found me. And I had in mind only one thing. I needed to find Lucanis. But I didn't know, will he agree to join the Veilguard or not. But maybe my charm still worked, maybe Neve's presence did, he agreed. It was our chance to fix everything, to show how we appreciated everything.

I... Still loved him. And he did too. Two broken people united again to help each other. I couldn't fail. Not again. So we did everything to rebuild our love. I'm grateful to my fate and to Lucanis that we made it."

Lucanis: "I never thought of the relationship. I was alvays concentrated on my work and targets to kill. Even when I met her first time... She was a beautiful and insufferable one in her 14 and it didn't change with the years passing by. Her pragmatism was infecting. Her charm... Undeniable. Did I know that she's in love with me? Of course, I noticed. But I didn't want to trust the first woman in love I met. The love, the trust... Is a weakness in our line of work, you know. But once I decided to let her in.

Maybe, it was a mistake I made but... The beautiful mistake. She's as stubborn as I am, I knew she will go to the final. I felt the same attraction she had to me. But this love... Its final left me torn apart. She broke my heart and I wished to never see her again, afraid of falling back in this deep blue eyes of the master of the lies and forgery she was.

But... I couldn't deny her own suffering. And we... I... I decided to start again when she proved her words. Love and trust are the weaknesses in our world but we both became too attached to each other to deny it. I let her in back again to never let go."

---

Is their relationship a secret? Who knows about it?

Renesmee and Lucanis: "Well, we tried to keep it secret. But Viago got to know before we even started. Of couse, he was suspicious but then he started to trust too, concidering it as a good chance to unite the Houses de Riva and Dellanorte. Just Catherina was cautious. But... All changed after the events with the evanuris and the Dread Wolf.

Neve was the first one in the Veilguard who got to know about us. She just saw our reactions to each other, it wasn't hard to guess that things were deeper than it seemed. And then... Everyone in the Veilguard. But we didn't let them into our private life. It was ours."

---

If your Rook took their LI on a romantic date, what would it be like?

Renesmee: "Hm... Maybe, I'd took him onto that roof where I confessed him in love again. And then we'd go to Cafe Petra to taste the new blend of coffee. Knowing Lucanis' preferences, it could be the perfect time to do it.

---

What does life look like for your Rook and LI after the game?

Renesmee: "You already know, Lucanis made me a proposal at Satinalia festival. Our marriage was two months later. So, I became the lady of House Dellamorte. And then, about a year later, I got to know I was pregnant with our first child. Our daughter, Catherina Vithelia, was born at the beginning of the next year. And two years later our son Vincenzo was born. And... If my first birth giving went well, the second... Was hard. Lucanis was wounded on the mission, I was worried about him and than went ill and laid down. The birth giving of Vincenzo almost killed me. But... I can't hate my own child. Even if he's a mage. I'm just happy that Lucanis is surrounded by the family, the people he loves and can rely. Even in the Crows."

[weaveandwood]

Overcome

Pairing: The Viper x Rook (Bianca, ex-Antivan Crow mage) Words: 3.5K Rating: NSFW

For @veilguard-appreciation-week! Prompts for today were: Minrathous, Justice, "I think you might be trouble."

(This is set after the events of the game)

Read on AO3!

“Got a missive about an underground slave sale happening this evening, feel like causing a little trouble?” Ashur said as he leaned against the wall of his office, watching Bianca read through some reports while lounging on his sofa. 

“Another one? I thought we were really making progress,” she said with a sigh. She sounded disappointed. He went to sit by her on the sofa, and she stretched her legs over his lap. 

“We are. Minrathous is changing. It’s hard to let go of over thousands of years of ‘tradition,’ no matter how awful that tradition is. But think of it this way—we’ve gone from having to choose which of many markets to disrupt any given day to only having one a few times a week. We will get there,” he said, threading his fingers through hers. If he could prevent anyone from what she experienced as a child—sold by the only family she had left and taken away from her home to be trained to kill—he would do whatever it took. He had to. 

“You know patience has never been my strong suit,” she said. 

“One of my favorite things about you,” he smiled, remembering how he went from kissing her one afternoon to being buried inside her just hours later. She laughed, clearly thinking something similar. “If you had patience, I’m not sure we would be us.”

“I suppose you’re right. Okay, let’s go free some slaves. I’m in the mood to beat up some slavers anyway,” she said, sitting up before leaning to his ear. “Besides, you are always so sexy when you’re fighting. We’ll see if I’m patient enough to get you back home,” she whispered, her warm breath sending waves of desire through him. Would this be how it always was between them? As they stood up, he watched her move across the room in her tight leather pants and shirt, running the risk of getting distracted. He hoped beyond all hope that it would always be like this. 

“You know, I think you might be trouble,” he said as he began to clasp his mask, becoming The Viper once more. 

“I am, and that’s why you love me,” she said with a smile before fixing her own mask across her face, a new addition to her wardrobe after their reunion. While their relationship wasn’t secret anymore, being masked during Shadow Dragon duties helped prevent crowds of people who recognized Bianca as Rook. After a few disastrous missions, they decided it was best. It had the added benefit of making her look even more dangerous. She joked about not having patience, but most nights it took every ounce of his willpower not to pull her into a secluded alleyway and take her then and there. 

He knew tonight would be the same.

The slave market would be an easy mission—a small amount of slaves, not many potential buyers. Bianca didn’t know if it was because they had taken down so many that she was becoming desensitized, or if this was a sign of Minrathous changing, like Ashur was so optimistic it would. Looking at the line of slaves for purchase, their ears pointed, eyes hollowed, and clothes soiled, she could feel Ashur’s anger growing from their vantage point on a dark balcony above. She settled on one small elven girl, slight and scared with dark wavy hair, and she was taken back to a dim room not unlike this one all those years ago when she was a small girl surrounded by so many other small girls, all of them scared and shaking, knowing their fate was up to the people in the room in front of them. She thought herself lucky when she was purchased by the Crows. This young girl would be luckier—she would never be purchased. Her life would be her own. 

She looked over at Ashur. His eyes had settled on the same girl and she knew he was thinking about her. He had always been fierce about emancipation—the slave trade disgusted him, but ever since he learned her past, he became more angry, more righteous, more intently focused on destroying this specific part of Minrathous’s story. She rested her hand on his, drawing his attention away from the girl. 

“That girl will never go through what you went through,” he said softly, his voice tinged with the beginnings of rage. 

“Of course not, she has The Viper on her side.” 

She could feel the static from his magic pulling at hers. He had worked so hard to regain his strength and Bianca was convinced he was stronger than before, somehow. As if being cured of blight had concentrated it, coalescing his frost into the strongest blizzard, his sparks into lightning storms the likes of which the world had never seen. She knew how things worked here, that he was the product of a long line of powerful mages, all selected to breed a mage more powerful than the last. She couldn’t imagine anyone more powerful than him at this moment, and couldn’t wait to see him unleash on these men in the room below them. She couldn’t wait to join him, beat them, and then have him afterwards. 

A shuffling in the room drew her attention. It was about to start. 

“Shall we?” he whispered, the only hint of the smile she knew he was giving her the small creases by his eyes. “The usual plan?” 

“You mean the one where I do all the work getting the slaves to safety while you get to have fun freezing all the slavers?” 

“That’s the one,” he said, hoisting himself effortlessly over the balcony railing to land in an inconspicuous area. 

“Show off,” Bianca muttered to herself, smiling and shaking her head though the familiar feeling of desire began to hum within her, mingling with her fire and sparks and stoking her magic. She’d get the slaves to the waiting Shadows outside, then come back in to play.  

All those years of assassin training had proved useful in her new life, she had found. Being able to sneak soundlessly and avoid being spotted by keeping to the shadows served her well once more and she was in position by the slaves. She made eye contact with Ashur and nodded, knowing that all of his beautiful divine fury was about to be unleashed. When she felt the first wave of cool air hit her, she knew that was her signal—the slaver nearest the slaves had been incapacitated. It took everything within her not to turn her head to watch him, but she knew if she did, she’d never look away. 

Slaves first, then you can watch your hot boyfriend, she thought to herself as she reached the front of the room, finally noticed by the first of the slaves in the line, a middle aged male, face weathered with exposure. She wondered what his story was. What all of their stories were. She knew they would be as varied as there were stars in the sky. There was no shortage of ways to oppress people in Tevinter.  

“We’re here to help,” she said to him as the sounds of chaos reached her ears. “There are people outside who will take you to safe houses. You will not be slaves any longer.” She saw him glance at her pointed ears, as if they were the deciding factor if he would trust her or if this was all some trick. She took care to make sure her hair was tucked behind them on missions with slaves involved for this very reason, and knew this was why Ashur always had her go to the slaves. There was an ancient bond of generational oppression that he would never be able to breach even though he tried the hardest out of all the Dragons to help slaves, but Bianca was instantly trustworthy just for the shape of her ears. She didn’t know whether to be proud of Ashur for being so in tune with what their charges needed over his own pride, or to be bitter at the hypocrisy that he was regarded with suspicion just for the shape of his ears.

“This way,” she said once they were all focused on her. She led them out the side door where four other Shadows were waiting. She nodded at one of the waiting members of her new faction before turning to the man she had made the de facto leader of this slave group. “There will be food and baths and a change of clothes at the safe houses. Then you will get to decide what your life will be,” she smiled. The small girl from before looked up at her with watery eyes. Bianca knew she would be taken in by a family and never experience any of the hardships she was forced to endure. That was the goal. That was why she left the Crows. 

That’s not to say her desire to kill was dampened when she quit being an assassin. No—her fingers itched at the thought of forming her orb, of using her sparks to incapacitate those who would place a low value on a life, of using her mage knife to slice the throat of anyone who got too close. She was good at it, and when directed at the right target for the right reason…she loved it. She nodded to one of the Shadows currently leading the slaves out of the area before slinking back into the shadows. She needed to join Ashur in making sure these monsters would never leave that room again. 

Ashur was holding back, toying with his prey as he waited for Bianca to return. The room was freezing, ice forming around the bodies of the slavers and the would-be buyers that didn’t manage to escape in the initial chaos. He didn’t mind if a few escaped—they would either never return or they would make the grave mistake of attempting to buy a slave again, only to meet the sharp end of Bianca’s knife. He wondered sometimes if the face of the man who sold her took the place of the men she killed. A question for another time, he thought to himself with a smile as he felt the temperature in the room start to rise, the first sign of Bianca’s magic. 

Now the show would begin. 

The two of them fought like a well-oiled machine, their magics combining to make the perfect storm of frost, fire, and sparks. When their targets thought one deluge was over, another would begin. They would find no safe harbor in this room. One by one, they fell—either through death or scared surrender, it didn’t matter to Ashur. Those who left the room trembling with fear would know The Viper and The Crow could appear at any future slave market, and they were unlikely to take their chances a second time. It was how they managed to partially decimate the slave trade in such a short amount of time. 

The bright glow of lightning and the sound of static erupted from across the room. Bianca was facing down the slaver, sparks circling her knife as her orb flickered with both brilliant violet and orange light. He knelt down to the bloodied and freezing buyer he was currently dealing with. 

“You know, you’re lucky you got me instead of her,” he said, cupping the man’s chin roughly with his gloved hand and forcing him to watch as Bianca alternated sending bolts of lightning and plumes of fire across the slaver’s body. He couldn’t hear her over his shouts of pain, but he knew she was giving him a verbal lashing to match the magical one, her face a beautiful combination of rage and righteousness. 

“Knife-eared bitch,” the buyer spat, eyeing Bianca’s pointed ears. Ashur cocked his head. He never understood the hatred of elf ears. He thought they were magnificent. Especially hers, given the sounds she made at night when his lips touched them. 

“That was the wrong thing to say, my friend,” he said, feeling his magic grow ever and ever more impatient inside him. “I was going to let you go, to spread the word that the slave trade in Minrathous was over.”

“But now?” The man said, his dark eyes fixed on Ashur’s blue ones. 

“Well, that ‘knife-eared bitch,’ as you called her, happens to be the love of my life and I can’t let you get away with such disrespect,” he said as he stood up, cold indifference coloring his voice as frost began to swirl around the man on his knees in front of him. 

“Wait, wait—” the man said, attempting to beg, though it was to no avail. The frost circled him faster and faster, his own personal blizzard. It pressed in on him, freezing him slowly, agonizingly. Ashur could make this fast, and the thought ran through his head that he probably should, but the disgust on that man’s face while he looked at Bianca…there was no mercy left within him to give. 

He kicked the frozen corpse over once the room was silent once more. 

“Hey…you good?” Bianca asked as she walked over, sheathing her knife and wiping her brow. He put his hands on her waist, pulling her close to him. 

“Better now,” he said, unclasping one side of her mask and then his own before kissing her deeply. “Have I ever told you that watching you fight is incredibly sexy?” 

“I’ve picked up on it,” she smiled and laughed before continuing their kiss, no doubt remembering the early days of their relationship when she was still Rook and fought alongside the Shadows before the dragon attacked Minrathous. He always made sure to show his appreciation and approval of her fighting multiple times when she came to him those nights.

Need threatened to overtake his senses as she pressed her hips against his. He groaned into her mouth, reluctantly pulling away.  

“As much as I want to pull you into a dark corner and take you right here and now,” he said while looking around at all the bodies on the floor, “the ambience is a bit of a mood killer.” 

“Well, then, you better get me home quickly,” she said as he fixed her mask before taking care of his own.

They had barely made it back into Bianca’s apartment before masks were quickly discarded and his lips were on hers once more. He pressed her against the wall, his tongue sliding against hers as his hands made quick work of the buttons on her top. She pushed his jacket off, the heavy leather thudding unceremoniously on the floor before shrugging her shirt off. She grabbed his hand and led him down the hall to her bedroom, not wanting any delays in getting what she wanted most. 

Patience never was her strong suit and she needed Ashur inside her after tonight. Slave rescues brought up things she would rather forget, and there was no better way to do that than to have him between her thighs while she chased her pleasure and called his name out to whoever was listening. 

They both wasted no time in removing the last of their clothes before kissing each other once more—fiercely, desperately, without abandon. His arms wrapped around her, his fingers threading through her curls and pressing her tightly against him. She could feel him starting to get hard against her as she scratched her nails up and down his back. He kissed his way from the corner of her jaw to her earlobe, biting it gently before running his tongue along the shell of her ear to the delicate point, making her knees buckle and a soft moan escape her mouth. 

“Need you,” she said breathlessly as he took the point of her ear into his mouth, sucking lightly. Waves of pleasure crashed through her, stoking her desire for him to even higher peaks. She pushed him onto the bed, eyes raking over his body as she crawled next to him. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe that he was here, that he was hers, that for once everything she wanted worked out. She kissed him, wrapping her hand around his already hard cock, his sharp intake of breath and soft curses in Tevene as she stroked him only made her want him more. 

She climbed on top of him, straddling his hips as she lined him up to her entrance. She had been ready for him since that first blast of cool air that evening and didn’t want to wait any longer. His hands went to her hips, both of them moaning as she let herself sink down onto him, sheathing him fully within her body. The initial burn of entry giving away to some of the most intense pleasure every time he entered her never got old, and she hoped she would always feel this way. 

She looked down into his eyes as she rested her hands on his strong chest, using her thighs to lift and lower her hips, slowly at first so she could feel each hard inch of him dragging against her before speeding up, his hands on her hips helping her grind down against him each time. Sometimes it was easy to forget that this man underneath her was the highest ranking member of the Chantry, especially with the words coming out of his mouth at that moment and the way his hand reached around to squeeze her backside as she rode him. 

The room filled with the sounds of their frenzied lovemaking—cries of “more”, “harder”, “please”, the bed hitting the wall, curses in both Antivan and Tevene followed by praises to the Maker. Bianca loved nights after missions, both of them putting the atrocities they see behind them with what she regarded as the best sex of her life. Truthfully, she put sex with Ashur on a completely different level from every other person she had been with, something that had been evident from the very first night they were together and had only gotten better each time since. But something about the way they grasped at each other after missions was so intense, as if they were proving to each other that things could still be good in this world, as long as they had each other. 

She leaned down to kiss him, suddenly overcome with emotion. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her to his chest as he thrust up into her. The change in angle, the depth of each thrust, the way his tongue slid around hers—they all sent her racing to her peak, threatening to send her over the edge. She knew he could feel her tightening around him, her body tensing and going still as she let him fuck her thoroughly. He knew all her tells, and she knew his—the way his fingers dug into her skin, his normally measured rhythm becoming erratic, the moans he released into her mouth each time their bodies hit together. She could tell he was close. 

“Come for me,” she whispered in his ear. She needed it. “Come for me now.”

His answering groan and hard thrusts were enough to send her over the edge, crying out as she finally reached her peak and shattered around him. Her nails dug into his skin as he thrust one more time, spilling into her and holding her even more tightly. 

Moments passed, the two of them remaining entwined, sweaty and panting as they came down from those blissful heights. Once she caught her breath, Bianca climbed off Ashur, laying beside him. He turned to the side to face her, his fingers playing with her curls before tracing the outline of her ear once more. 

“You’re magnificent,” he smiled softly at her, his eyes raking over her face, full of emotion. 

“Is everything ok?” Bianca asked.

He shook his head, pulling her in close to him and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Something someone said about you at the slave market got to me more than it probably should have.”

“Let me guess, a slur about me being an elf?” When she heard his hum of agreement it all started to make sense—his attention to her ears, the way he was looking at her, even the way she felt his anger from across the room during their mission. “I suppose it’s different hearing it directed at someone you care for. I was wondering why you killed that man, he seemed relatively harmless.”

“I was planning on letting him go, but after he said that—” Ashur tightened his grip on her shoulder, rage starting to color the edge of his voice again before he caught himself. “I was overcome with anger on your behalf. I couldn’t let him get away with that, though maybe I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the better of me.” 

She sat up, her hand on his chest. “This is part of the package of being with an elf. I have not been immune to hearing slurs directed my way, why do you think I always keep my ears covered with my hair?” she laughed. “But thank you. For letting your emotions get the better of you.” 

“I promise never to stop when you're involved,” he said, laying his hand on hers. 

“Freeing slaves and killing racists? Sounds like justice to me,” she laughed, leaning down to kiss him once more before curling up against him. 

“I agree,” he said with a laugh.

[nessacousland]

can i ask what was ur problem with treviso? i actually found treviso and the crows to be the most interesting faction out of all of them so maybe im just biased LOL

Okay, full disclosure: I was on vacation and didn’t get to play Veilguard until the 8th of November. Couldn’t take the potential spoilers everywhere, so I've been cramming these past few days to finish the game asap (I still did every side quest, had all factions at max strength and got the “best” ending etc. but didn’t do every chests/stats puzzle). By the time the Treviso questline concluded, I'd been fully marinating in the sauce of all the other criminally stupid quests, is what I’m trying to say, and Treviso was emblematic of every problem I already had with this game. It was my breaking point.

To start with, the questline is offensively generic and an actual insult to the players’ intellect. Painfully linear, cartoon villains abound and nothing of any substance was ever said during its run.

The moment Caterina told us about Lucanis’ non-death, I called Illario being the traitor. There were no clever misdirects, there were no other leads, nope, they showed us his hand *immediately*. Grandma First Talon of the murder guild has a clear favorite and didn’t tell the ‘spare’ heir about her suspicions? Yeah, okay. Repeat FAMILY as often as you want, you piss-poor Godfather knockoff of a questline, I ain't buying.

So, from the start, all tension is gone, I'm just sitting there waiting for the rest of these “capable” assassins who “rule Antiva from the shadows” to catch on to this incredibly obvious plot twist. Meanwhile, the quests had absolutely nothing interesting to say - about the Crows or Treviso. The first bad guy was, predictably, an evil evil Venatori, super more evil than the evil evil Venatori you've seen before, guys, she literally BATHES IN BLOOD. Omg, right? 🙄 (I found Tevinter infinitely more compelling when their entire ruling class were power-hungry tyrants out of self-interest instead of being hit over the head with the mustache-twirling villain/crazed cultist stick).

Mr. “totally not the traitor” kills Zara before she can tell us anything of substance, she dies,clearly shocked, calling him “Amatus”...AND NO ONE CATCHES ON. You can have Neve on the team, Bellara regularly reads Tevinter serials (the whole team has a fucking book club in the middle of an apocalypse), you can play a freaking Shadow Dragon Rook, but nah, nothing. We don’t even get to ask “Uh, what was that?”. Instead, we get to sit through more pointless missives/quests while the ever capable Crows are totally investigating the traitor.

Now, you could argue that the “Amatus” was a reward to tip off those of us who’ve played the previous games and know what the term means. But with a plot this threadbare and obvious…did the writers think they’re Agatha Christie here? Did they really think I was at the edge of my seat, desperate to find out “whodunit” and grateful for any crumbs thrown my way?

Well, anyway, we are told a million times over that super charming (where?) Illario is just “like that” every time he acts super freaking suspicious. (The funeral thing with Caterina's ashes was especially funny.)

You'd think those instances would start to add up and prompt someone - anyone - to start using their brains (don't we have a goddamn detective on our team?!), but NOPE. We have to corpse-whisper to progress this questline. One of the biggest ass-pulls they've introduced via this game in general, in my opinion (is this Forbidden Realms and we just unlocked the Speak with the Dead spell?) - and it acts as the deus ex machina here to finally give us a clue. Wow, thanks.

The entire sequence of Lucanis confronting Illario in front of the assembled mafia felt like something out of an Antivan play. So goddamn goofy. I thought that vibe was charming in Josephine's romance quest - Antivans live for the drama - but they wanted us to take this moment seriously. This is Lucanis confronting his “all he has left” (don't get me started on the Fade sequence - apparently we the players can’t grasp anyone's motivations without having them spelled out for us over and over again) for putting him through hell and changing his entire being forever. Should I be laughing right now?

To make matters worse,we're told that the Crows are the perfect killers who never leave a contract unfinished - and then Lucanis spares Illario because the humiliation is the biggest punishment??? Like, I'm fine with him faltering here, that’s human. But this should have had consequences. This is the murder guild we're talking about here. Lucanis’ parents were literally killed in a different house’s coup attempt. He was just made the head mobster, immediately showed weakness in front of the entire mafia and everything is just dandy fine??? Because FAMILY?

Another personal gripe with this is that - as always - Rook had zero agency. No matter what you do, Lucanis will forgive or spare Illario. Imagine if we had the option to convince him to kill him instead. Imagine the resulting resentment tainting our bond with him and having us actively engage with fixing or breaking it. Imagine us going along with his mercy but hashing out the painful consequences for his house with him. But that’s not the game Veilguard is.

Anyway, the quest then becomes even more ridiculous. We've long learned that a human traitor helped the Antaam claim Treviso overnight. Someone with great knowledge of the city and the necessary power to make it happen. Gee, I'm sure the human GOVERNOR regularly hanging out in the Crow headquarters or the market bitching about the Crows’ interference 24/7 - the ONLY town official we get to see - had nothing to do with it. Five scarves fluttered in shock out of five, great job, guys.

The Butcher thing was just…weird. Like, we get to hear and build him up as this totally different antaam leader, cruel but cunning and calculating, someone who will be difficult to dethrone. Only for him to show up out of nowhere and serve no other purpose than to move the main plot forward asap and die. Lol, thanks for your service, I guess.

Then Ivenci, for no fucking reason, decides that they, like any good cartoon villain, should reveal themselves to us just in order to gloat. Um, why don’t they simply order the Antaam to murder us dead right then and there? If Rook and their plucky team of friends are too powerful for that, why haven’t we taken Treviso by force already? But nah, lol, our plot armor doesn’t have any cracks yet, so they literally tell us to go away and try to disturb the gods’ plans, because those guys will totally kill us for them.

Now, we wait again. Excuse me, isn’t this a questline about assassins? Why aren’t we trying to, y'know, assassinate Ivenci? Cut off the snakes's head, how often have we heard this phrase otherwise? Nah, let's wait till we get another letter that shit is going down that the Crows totally didn’t anticipate and THEN let's confront them. (Ofc, the Crows’ investigation of the qamek stalled forever. Cause they’re incompetent.)

But the thing that really broke me…we KNOW Ivenci stole a bunch of special qamek. We run at them THROUGH A GREEN POISON CLOUD. And my Rooks's just like “Huhhh? Is something possibly messing with my mind right now?”. YOU STUPID POS.

And then, ofc, we end the questline and Jacobus pops outta nowhere to spare Ivenci because a good pirate never steals and a good assassin never kills, I guess. Jacobus founds his new house to basically become a big mafia family for orphans like him which everyone is super proud of, because, if the previous installments of the game have taught us anything, it's that the Crows are deeply concerned with the well-being of orphans. Whoop dee doo, the end.

Okay, more notes. It’s been mentioned plenty already that this game has completely neutered the Crows and turned them into edgy found family freedom fighters. Personally, I'm not okay with the explanation that this is simply a different house than House Arainai. Because what the actual fuck, game. Why is Ivenci the bad guy when they're literally right about everything?! Where's my option to agree with them that a fucking murder mafia shouldn’t be the ruling force of a town, let alone the entire country? Why is the municipal government the enemy while my non-Crow Rook keeps shouting “Viva the Crows”??? Are you really telling me that the Crows are the good guy mafia and House Arainai was the bad outlier? Is that what this is?

Look, I'm fine with allying with the Crows if that’s what necessity dictates. We're trying to stop the SUPER BLIGHT here. But don’t sugarcoat that this is us joining forces with the mob. The way Veilguard presents them makes me cringe cause they're basically just leather-clad incompetent fools larping as birds. Show us the reality of this alliance. Get into the nitty-gritty. Make this world feel real. God.

I *wanted* to like this questline. Out of every country in Northern Thedas, I've always been most interested in Antiva. The whole medievalesque guilds system and merchant princes, the mediterranean romance and drama, pirates and Crows, the snazzy outfits and Spanish accents, god, normally, I'm eating that shit UP. I didn’t even think twice about which city to save. Partially because Minrathous was better fortified and Venatori seemed like the lesser evil vs. blighted water, of course, but mostly because Treviso is absolutely gorgeous and Zevran and Josephine instilled a lot of love for Antiva in me that I just don’t feel for Tevinter. I also thought that the setup was very interesting - professional assassins turned into freedom fighters of their occupied turf. And it *would* have been if they had let them remain, y'know, the actual murder mafia they always were.

But aside from my gripes about the Crows’ portrayal, the entire questline was just a total nothing burger. This is the first time ever that we're actually in Antiva, our introduction, so to speak, and what do we learn about the place? That there’s strife and betrayal among the Crows? Um, yeah, Zevran covered that fifteen years ago. There’s nothing new whatsoever. Imagine if our primary goal had actually been to help the Crows free Treviso. That we're working to loosen the Butcher's grasp on the town via strategic assassinations (i.e. actual Crow missions) that also introduce us to Treviso's people/Antivan culture (taking out someone during a theatre play, for example! The drama!), the internal politics of the Merchant princes and the municipal government's struggle to keep this occupied city from imploding. Imagine us getting caught up in this web of intrigue as we get closer and closer to the Butcher and then suddenly, we're being played. And only *then* do we start to suspect a traitor among the Crows’ ranks and the whole thing unravels. Spitballing even further, why repeat the Crow/Venatori romance in a random side quest with random people? Why not have Zara and Illario be actually in love, but he kills her for his ambition anyway? And instead of taking responsibility for his actions, he blames Lucanis for forcing his hand? Or maybe, they both thought they were playing the other and as another power hungry asshole, Zara almost respects Illario for the hussle as she dies? *Some* messiness and drama? (Cause Varric’s initial narration sequence made Zara seem like this blood-soaked femme fatale but the actual narrative gave zero fucks about that vibe. Discount Countess Bathory wannabe).

That might just be what I would have wanted and nobody else, but I still maintain that anything would have been better than this cookie-cutter, baby’s first mafia story that is beat for beat exactly what you'd expect and have seen before.

Well, this was a long rant. I don’t intend to make a habit of shitting on things others enjoy on here, but my emotions are still running high after finishing the game yesterday and you did ask. Sorry.

[inquisimer]

Happy Friday! From the hurt/comfort prompts: "I don't need a break, I'm okay" for Arlow de Riva/Lucanis

thank you for the prompt!! a little pre-canon sparring between these two (:

Arlow de Riva/Lucanis | 676 words | @dadrunkwriting - veilguard

-

He knows from the moment her blade touches his that this is different. It is still practice--but it is not.

Ordinarily, she is a well-oiled machine. Viago would not open their House to critique by offering a novice assassin to train with the First Talon's best. She was already a sharpened blade; Lucanis was simply the whetstone against which Viago intended to hone her, shape her, direct her.

Usually, she touches her blade to his, the universal start of a duel-dance that has been worn throughout the ages. She steps back in the typical moves, gauging where he will take their fight. Content to let him set the pace, the mood of the engagement.

Not today.

Today, she crackles like the oncoming storm. Her edges are fuzzy with--frustration? Anger? He can't quite read it; this is the one thing she has always had on him, the balance that levels their playing field. She reads him like a book and it compensates for her slightly delayed reactions, for the moves he knows that she does not, for the speed he executes that she cannot.

When they part, she is on him in a whirl of spellblade and violet electricity.

He does not usually see her like this. Their practice is a controlled thing; mage versus mage killer, as they've been trained to be. Very few mages survive in the Crows. Even fewer Crows have survived in House Dellamorte. They are, the both of them, the promise of legacies lost, of better things to come. They are controlled. They do not disappoint.

Perhaps that is why she is wild today. No--not wild. Still controlled, but a controlled chaos, driven to a point as white water drills against stone, tearing the path that it wants, regardless of the path nature says it should take.

He tastes it though, as he parries her forceful strike, and ducks under the lightning that flows so naturally off her fingers. Regret, almost; guilt, certainly. He does not make the mistake of thinking it makes her vulnerable. If anything, her emotion makes this more of a dance than it usually is; gives a flow to their spar that is normally more clinical, studied. He finds himself giving over to it, as well. His offhand blade catches at her ankle before she can flip away--tears the leather--then the skin--

She falls to one knee, her blood pooling as it runs down her footwraps and finds a new home on the stone floor. Her shoulders shake with something other than her heavy breaths, and Lucanis does not need to know her as well as he does to recognize the wrestle for control.

He shoves his blades into his belt, but he only takes one step toward the healing chest when she objects.

"No. I'm fine." She lifts her face, sweat-streaked and a frenzied twist, brought to heel. Her eyes are just out of focus, but the set of her jaw is firm. She struggles to her feet. Lucanis gestures to the injured one she's favoring.

"You won't fight well on that."

"I will," she insists, throwing her arcane focus back up into the air. The tether she uses to hold it snaps into place like a whip and she assumes the stance that beckons him back into the dance. "I must. There would be no other choice on a contract; there is no other choice, here."

She raises her spellblade. Waits.

And he knows--he knows that this fight will not do what she wants. It will not burn away whatever Viago has said that left her in such a state. There is nothing that could do that. Some words linger like a brand, forever, and he suspects that Viago's words sink their teeth into her farther than any others. If this were an honorable duel, he would refuse to engage her, force her to take the potion, or the bandage, before they start another round.

But this is not about honor. They are Crows.

He pulls his blade from his belt, and touches it to hers.

The dance begins again.

[seaglassmelody]

Writing Challenge Weekend - Davrook Fluff Edition

I loved this set of prompts!!! Thank you so much for another awesome challenge @thedissonantverses!

Challenge for this week is here!

I chose these two for inspiration:

Lyric: 16. I was gonna die young

Fluff prompt: 5. Only one bed.

I'm a little off-model for what Only One Bed usually entails but it still fits ok!!

Context for this drabble is the Veilguard had a post-god-killing party at Villa Dellamorte and everyone's spending the night. Featuring Luz de Riva, my crow rogue Rook.

Turns out Davrin isn't the only one who thought he had an expiration date.

----

It had been a long LONG time since Luz had been somewhere as fancy as Villa Dellamorte.

Sure the Lighthouse was a magic home in the Fade that created new rooms they needed out of nothing, but it wasn't gilded and lavish and-

"Ok, ok I get it. Who let you near the wine again?" Davrin laughed as he hauled his boyfriend up the stairs towards the guest rooms.

"No Dav you don't understand, I forgot there were people in Antiva that lived like this but it's even more than I could have ever imagined-" Luz simply continued his drunken rambling, heedless of his unsteady feet.

"But we've been here before." Davrin pointed out simply.

Luz huffed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, on a mission! That wasn't a visit, it was an infiltration!"

"Yeah yeah, didn't get a chance to lounge on the fancy couches. Poor you." Davrin leaned Luz against the doorframe to their guest room while he opened the door.

As it swung open, he was greeted by the sight of Assan, sprawled across one of the beds. The griffon raised his head and chirped loudly in a cheerful greeting.

"What the- Assan!"

The griffon leapt off the bed to come butt his head against Davrin's leg, leaving feathers in the rumpled sheets.

Luz drooped into the doorway, laughing. "Looks like he decided he's ruler of the roost tonight."

Davrin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Assan, that bed was for Rook. Not you."

Assan squawked back with what Luz assumed to be attitude. He didn't understand the griffon the way Davrin seemed to.

As Davrin began lecturing Assan on how "furniture is for people Assan! We can't afford to pay for repairs if your claws damage it!", Luz slowly wobbled his way to the other bed, unceremoniously flopping onto it face-first.

"S'fine Dav. We can just share." His voice was muffled by the pillow, though Davrin's keen ears caught it all the same.

"That isn't the point, Rook-"

"Luz."

"Right. Luz. But really, he needs to understand that he can't just do whatever he wants!"

Without raising his head, Luz waved that thought away nonchalantly. "It's a celebration night, Dav. We'll apologize to Lucanis in the morning. Maybe I can get Vi to cover the cost of repairs…"

Davrin sighed out his nose and closed the door behind him, ushering Assan back towards the bed. "You've already claimed it, boy, might as well make use of it."

With a cheerful kreel, Assan bounded back over to "his" bed, leaping onto it with gleeful abandon.

Davrin sank onto the bed next to Luz's prone form. "You'll suffocate if you lay like that for too long."

Luz rolled his head to the side, staring up at Davrin's face. "Nah, I'm well-versed in the human body's limitations. I had another…" He trailed off, his eyes glazing over, "I'unno, 70 seconds?"

"Stop trying to do math when you're drunk off your ass." Davrin chuckled, starting to pull off his shoes.

"No, really though…" Luz rolled onto his back, yawning. "Crows are hyper aware of all of the different ways our bodies can fail us. We have to be."

"You kill people for a living." Davrin replied flatly, as if stating the obvious.

"No no, I mean our bodies! Our individual bodies." Luz patted his chest, as if for emphasis. "The only way to make it as a Crow is to make sure you don't die before your target does, so you have to know what you can withstand. No point taking a contract that puts you at a lot of risk of dying before you can complete it."

He stared at the ceiling, his gaze going far away for a moment.

"You remember when you told me that Wardens keep it casual because any day could be the last?" His voice was quiet, suddenly somber.

Davrin looked over at him, confused. "Yeah…?"

Luz came back into himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Crows are similar. One day you're friends, the next day they slip poison into your wine." He turned to look at Davrin again. "I…never expected to make it this far."

Davrin looked stricken- though whether it was shock or a sudden deep understanding, Luz couldn't say.

The Grey Warden slowly reached out to take his boyfriend's hand, cradling it in both his own. "Rook…Luz. If there's one thing I've learned from all this, it's that you take what's yours and hold onto it as hard as you can. People, ideals, even your own life. That lets you believe a tomorrow is…possible."

Luz slowly sat up, eyes fixated on Davrin's face, then slowly flopped his drunken dead weight onto Davrin's shoulder. "If we made it through two elven gods…we can make it through anything."

Davrin breathed out a laugh. "Now that's the Luz de Riva I know." He shrugged Luz's head off his shoulder. "Now come on, get your shoes off. Our tomorrow is going to focus on making it through the incredible hangover you're going to have."

Luz groaned as he bent forward, half-heartedly pulling at one boot. "I'll be fiiiine. I just gotta…drink some water."

"If by 'some water' you mean half of a Trevisan canal, maybe."

"So mean to me! Assan, are you hearing this? Your father is bullying me!"

Assan crowed back, delighted. Luz groaned. "Even you, boy?"

Davrin sighed with affectionate exasperation. "I'll go get you some water. Promise me you won't get up and wind up cracking your skull in the meantime."

"I swear on the name of House de Riva." Luz replied sleepily, finally succeeding in removing one of his boots.

When Davrin got back with two cups and a water pitcher, Luz was fast asleep, still fully clothed - but he had managed to remove both boots.

[wickedwitchofthewilds]

Hello and welcome to dadwc!! For a prompt, for Bellara/Neve, may I submit: “I… can’t actually remember the last time I had something to eat.”

Thank you! A little pre-relationship musings

@dadrunkwriting slight Veilguard spoilers!

Neve walked into the dining room to the scent of buttery pastry and rich meat. Her eyes immediately went to where Rook leaned over the counter, carefully slicing open a wellington she had been working on all day, with Lucanis hovering over her shoulder until she asked for his help. The corner of her mouth twitched into a soft smile. They were good together and would be even better if they stopped dancing around what existed in front of their noses. Neve's eyes shifted to the table where Taash, Harding, and Davrin were already waiting and deep in conversation. Emmrich was off to the side decanting a red to go with the dinner Rook had worked so hard on.

Only one of them was still missing.

Neve wasn't the only who noticed as Rook looked over her shoulder. "Would you mind telling Bellara that dinner is almost ready?"

"Sure thing."

The forever dusk sky over the Lighthouse made telling time nigh difficult, but most of them still managed to settle into a routine. Mostly centered around meal times since all of them struggled with sleep in some way or the other. Still, Bellara often managed to get stuck in her own cycle or working on something until time ceased to exist for her. This wasn't the first time one of them had to track her down to get her to eat or even just to leave her room and stretch her legs. Get some air. Kill some Darkspawn.

Neve gently pushed the door open and sure enough, Bellara was hunched over her desk with goggles on, gently prodding at an artificat with a small metal tool with a focusing crystal embedded in the top. For a moment, Neve just watched as Bellara tilted her head side to side and muttered under breath as she tapped different parts of the artifact with the crystal. A stray lock of hair tickled her cheek and Bellara pushed it away with an annoyed huff. Neve smiled. Watching Bellara deep in her element was something special. The scrunch of her nose as she concentrated. The times she'd worry her bottom lip with her teeth as her thoughts raced to solve a problem. Even when Bellara launched into tangent after tangent, her original point pushed to the side, Neve couldn't help but find her endearing.

She ignored the extra skip of her heartbeat as she crossed the room so Bellara could catch a glimps of her out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh! Neve!" Bellara sat up, mouth curving into a smile. "Did you need something?"

"How long have you been working on this, Bel?" Neve asked instead, leaning her hip against the desk, careful not to jostle anything.

"Oh, only a few hours! I'm so close to getting the etheric tuning right; I just know it," Bellara said, looking back down at the artifact.

"Yeah? Just a few hours? When was the last time you ate?"

Bellara snorted. "I know what I last ate. It was…I…" Her eyes darted around as she tried to mentally calculate the hours. "Well…I maybe, actually, can't remember the last time I had something to eat."

Just as she thought.

"Dinner is ready. Why don't you leave that for later and come join us?" Neve asked, nodding towards the door. "Rook's made something that smells delicious. Would hate for you to miss out."

Bellara looked back to the artifact for a moment before putting down the instrument and taking off her goggles. "Right. I can just pick this back up later."

"You can," Neve confirmed.

Bellara hopped up with a spring in her step, smile blinding, and Neve couldn't ignore the way her heart skipped several beats. This was not part of the job but she couldn't help but lean into Bellara as the woman hooked their elbows together and told Neve all about her project as they walked the short distance to the dining. Neve wished it was longer. That they could have a little more time alone. A thought she tried to quash but it lingered in the back of her mind rather than going into its neat box.

She was in trouble.

[divorcedwife]

hi! i was wondering what exactly you mean by characters that are kind on purpose? i have an idea but im curious about the details. could you give some examples?

i was also wondering how you like the characters in tevinter nights compared to how you like them in game, just your opinion on them. oh and did you read the book before you played the game or the other way around?

oh of course!! i meant characters who are extremely kind and selfless and never take things personally, but are written this nicely on purpose, to make a point. like the idiot in dostoevsky's book - the prince is kind and sweet and doesn't hold a grudge, he's disarmingly sincere and always compassionate, he has great insight into other people and why they behave the way they do. and it's on purpose in that this makes him extremely singular, a mystery to other people, cause every other character is held back by social conventions or pragmatic desires or cruel impulsions, and the prince simply doesn't have those. i think this idea also applies to hareton in wuthering heights to some level, he's not saint like and doesn't talk people through their issues, but he is patient and willing to endure cruelty, to take violence inward and not look for revenge. everyone else is thinking about revenge and who they can torment as proxy for revenge (like heathcliff taking revenge on hindley by mistreating hareton, little cathy is mean to hareton because heathcliff makes her miserable) but he is willing to defend little cathy from heathcliff and to defend heathcliff from little cathy, even thought that puts him at risk. he's very selfless in a book where everyone else is pretty selfish, so it stands out

i really love both of these characters, i just don't like it if someone is meant to be a normal regular person but they're a saint in social interactions anyway, or if everyone is also like that - i dont remember for sure what prompted me to make that post in the first place but i was probably vaguing veilguard, i imagine. that's just my personal bias but i cant imagine someone insulting me to my face and responding by trying to coach them through their feelings, and it doesn't feel like a natural human response to me, even less so when everyone else is also like that. i wouldn't mind kindness if there was one character who was a ray of sunshine and always selfless, but we have TOO much sunshine in this beautiful guard of the veil for it to feel like a trait specific to anyone

i read tevinter nights after playing dav! i went in dav with zero info on the companions aside from very very basic things, like i saw some gifs. that's about it i ended up not finishing tevinter nights because of the eight little talons story - i disliked that one SO thoroughly that i needed a break after. but that's so weird, because i only realized recently that the author for that also wrote the lucanis story that i really enjoyed?? so idk what happened there, i don't get why courtney woods would do that to me. i hesitate to call anything objectively bad, but i found that story painfully sexist in how it handled the characters of teia and viago, and also not very good as a murder mystery (i guessed the killer based on the fact that the character spoke ominously and had otherwise nothing to do). i liked teia and viago way more before i read this, i will never look at them the same again </3

but i did still like the lucanis story, and it has made me sympathize with illario way more lol. it's a shame he's written with zero subtlety in the game, because i do like their dynamic in this one! if i had to help my cousin on a special mission and he kept changing objectives and getting us in danger by being too kind and sweet, i would also want him mega dead tbh. i'd think about it at least. looking back though, i think the issues with lucanis do start in this story ; in that he's an assassin with a moral code who doesn't kill innocent witnesses and will draw out a killing to make the target suffer more - i think that's 1) unprofessional 2) contradictory? for example, in this story, he kills a bunch of guards. were they all guilty? to the level of deserving death? i wouldn't think so. the idea that someone can be a good & moral assassin who only kills bad guys is a total dead end, it's not possible. especially if he's not a vigilante, but a hired mercenary. it shows in his banter in dav, his sense of morality made him sound more deluded and sinister to me than if he'd said "i kill people for money, whatever" i still think this story is fun in itself, and i enjoyed it. i think this contradiction in lucanis could have been interesting if it had been on purpose and explored in the game, but i think the writers really thought they found the loophole to have an assassin who is morally unquestionable....... too bad i liked neve's story, i thought her bitterness and the way she assumes the worst outcomes and the worst of everyone, but still never gives up, that was fun. if neve was written by the same person who wrote the story (and i think so?), then she was written by the same woman who wrote evka, which i think is amazing because i thought multiple times that they were pretty similar, but i like how it works for evka more. i think it's because evka is balanced by antoine, the optimist to her pessimism, who knows her deeply and allows her to show a softer side without it feeling jarring or contradictory like it did for me with neve

i also liked the first story, the one that had strife, thought i felt VERY unprepared for the first named character in the book to be extremely elf racist. it's not bad, it's definitely on purpose, it's just that since you never see anything like that in da:v, i didn't think it would be on the table. i liked the action scenes and the little twists and reveals, which i think may what weekes is best at writing tbh... my favorite dragon age book i read is probably still the masked empire, and i remember liking that about it, the action and the suspense and the twists

i like the story with antoine and evka, who are great and i love that we get to see them before they fall in love. i think this story benefits from the fact that i know they will come back later and their relationship will grow - on its own, i probably would have found it just ok, but the book and game feel very complementary and work together well in my opinion :-)

other stories have already slipped out of my mind for the most part, i just remember liking the one with emmrich and really disliking the one with dorian. maybe i'll finish it at some point, there probably arent that many stories left anyway... just for completion's sake

[thatapostateboy]

we all have a hunger

Pairing: Rook & Lavellan (platonic), brief hint at Solas x Female Lavellan

Word Count: 1675

Synopsis: In which Rook and Lavellan finally get to talk.

Prompt: Day Two: Rebellion from the Veilbound challenge by @/nympthi and @/citadrells on Twitter

Warnings: Mentions of slavery, Veilguard mild spoilers/speculation

Crossposted: Here on AO3

Rook wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Lavellan. She’d heard the stories of course, from rumours whispered amongst slaves and nobles alike in Tevinter to hearing it straight from Varric’s mouth, and yet none of them were quite able to do the fabled Herald of Andraste justice. Solas had painfully little to say, often cutting that line of questioning short whenever she so much as hinted at a connection between them. Harding had been the most honest, telling her that yes, she was a hero, that she had walked in the Fade and slayed would-be gods, but that she was a woman, a person, same as the rest of them.

Rook found that all but impossible to believe when the legend herself had strode through the Eluvian like she owned the place, demanding to know what was going on and why the Evanuris were rampaging across Northern Thedas. She looked like one of the illustrations in Varric’s books come to life, minus the flowing hair and waving standard of the Inquisition planted behind her.

She had not taken charge, though Rook would not have protested to someone more qualified taking control of the situation, but there was a respect and reverence around her. When she so much as entered a room, everyone paid attention, even Assan.

It took weeks of hard-fought battles at each other’s side, even harder fought conversations as the two differing personalities attempted to work together, but Rook finally saw her.

It had been the early hours of the morning, or whatever counted as morning in the Fade, but as the other members of the Veilguard had found sleep, Rook had found none, and it seemed that neither had Lady Lavellan. Rook found her already sat at the kitchen island, a cup of tea in her hand, staring contemplatively down into the steaming liquid.

“Can’t sleep either?”

Lavellan looked up at her, letting out a sigh, “Is it that obvious?”

“I hate to break it you, but the circles under your eyes give it away,” she pointed out, pouring her own mug of tea and leaning against the counter to look at her, “Does it ever get easier? Finding rest after everything we see?”

“I’ll tell you when I know,” she gave a soft snort into her mug as she took a mouthful.

Rook sipped at her own mug, humming at the taste, “Is that honey… with hints of dragonthorn?”

Lavellan’s eyebrows rose, “You have quite the palate. It’s my own special blend. I guessed there wouldn’t be much tea here so I’ve been mixing my own.”

“No, the Dread Wolf doesn’t seem to be a fan of tea,” Rook noted, “Or most things, I’ve found.”

“Not entirely true, he does have a taste for tiny cakes.”

Rook smiled at that, “And what about you, Lady Lavellan? What do you have a taste for? Aside from excellent tea blends.”

“Honey cakes,” she admitted, “I used to make them all of the time when I was young, my papae’s family recipe… I can’t remember when I last had the time to bake. Everything just been so…”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “It has… Y’know, I never thanked you.”

“Thanked me? Whatever for?”

“Coming out of retirement, being here to keep my ass out of the fire,” she said.

“Sweet as it is for you to say, I never actually retired,” she pointed out, “Keeping people’s asses out of the fire is what I’ve been doing since the Conclave exploded.”

Rook examined her for a few moments, then gave a resounding nod, “Breakfast.”

“What?”

“I’m going to make you breakfast.”

“I couldn’t impose-”

“It’s the least I can do, all things considered. Besides, I enjoy cooking, so c’mon, what do you…” she trailed off, eyes landing firmly on the one unused pan that still hung on the rack, “How about an omelette?”

A smile spread across Lavellan’s face, “They are my absolute favourite, how did you know?”

“What’s with the one omelette pan?”

The conversation had occurred within the first week of living at the Lighthouse, not long after the full team had been recruited and they had truly begun to explore what the Dread Wolf had to hide away. And for all of the mysteries and magics here, there was only one thing that truly bothered Rook.

The irritation in Solas’ voice was palpable as he turned to look at her, “I’m sorry?”

“You have the most depressing kitchen setup, you own one fork, spoon, knife, plate, bowl and cup, all which look like they’ve never been used… and yet you have a top-of-the-line Orlesian omelette pan.”

He huffed, “Of all of the inane queries you have used this tenuous connection for- How do you know it’s Orlesian? And that it is designed for omelettes?”

She put her hands on her hips, “I know my way around a kitchen with my eyes shut. So, what does a god who doesn’t eat need with an omelette pan?”

“That is none of your business.”

“Very well,” she nodded, “Lucanis was looking to use it, I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t some hidden magical art-”

“No!”

She glanced up at him with a mirthful smirk at his protest, “No?”

“It’s…” he regained his composure a little, “I was saving it for a special occasion.”

Her smirk only grew, “I’ll tell Lucanis to get his own. The omelette pan will remain untouched until you can escape the Fade and treat yourself to breakfast.”

Oh that old wolf had it bad.

“Educated guess,” Rook smiled.

“I’ve had a love for them since I tried them on my first trip to Orlais, back when the Breach had just opened. I had to adjust to shem food, but the omelettes, I fell in love with them.”

“Then you’re in luck. Omelettes are my signature dish.”

“You’re sure it’s no trouble?”

“As I said, it is literally the least I can do.”

Rook grabbed the pan that had sat untouched for Maker knows how long, setting it to warm up on the stove as she gathered ingredients out of the cold storage. She set to work, cracking three eggs and whisking them through a sieve, creating a smooth mixture.

Lavellan watched her, still nursing her tea, “I have to admit, I’m impressed that you got the dragonthorn on the first try. I thought it was quite subtle. I didn’t realise I was in the presence of a connoisseur.”

Rook hummed as she whisked, “Hardly. I spent the better part of my youth being trained how to cook by only the finest of Orlesian slaves. My master wanted nothing but the best when we prepared his meals, so I was taught very young how to taste test everything.”

Lavellan met her gaze, “Varric told me a little of your past when he said that you were working together, but he mainly brought up the Shadow Dragons.”

“I can only imagine the spin he put on it,” she rolled her eyes a little, slicing off some butter to melt into the now hot pan, “The slave breaking free from chains to rebel against the system and bringing freedom to the Imperium.”

“Is that not the story?”

“It a version of the story. I’m just… doing what I can.”

“It’s more than most do.”

Rook turned, pouring the egg mixture with care into the pan, hands steady as she guided it to fill every part of the surface, wanting an even cook, “Do you know why I enjoy cooking? Despite my past?”

“Tell me.”

“My master hated eggs. He wasn’t allergic, but he had a distaste for them so bad that he would physically strike us if there was even an egg in the kitchen,” she said, eyes fixed on the omelette as it began to take shape, “So I decided that I would learn to cook every egg dish that I could cram into my head. I would learn them, cook them, and perfect them. And I would feed everything I cooked to the others in the household.”

“You took that risk?” she asked.

Rook grabbed some of the cream cheese mixture that Lucanis kept pre-made in the cold store, piping it delicately through the centre of the omelette, “When I was a child and was first sold to him, I knew that I couldn’t fight him. I was too young, and even if by some miracle I could kill him, I had nowhere to go. So I took solace in my little acts of rebellion. It kept me alive, gave me a reason to never truly give up on the idea of freedom… And the fact it brought joy to the others? That small act that was just for us? It gave us hope.”

She missed the smile on Lavellan’s face as she folded the egg over the cream cheese, the Inquisitor finally realising why Varric had chosen her as his second in command, just as Lavellan couldn’t see the soft look in Rook’s eyes as she told her story, finally opening up to someone.

She slid the omelette delicately onto a plate, finishing it off with some quickly chopped chives and some black pepper, placing it in front of the former Inquisitor.

Lavellan looked positively ravenous at the sight and dug in as soon as Rook handed her a fork, devouring it one messy mouthful at a time. She glanced up at Rook, tears pricking at her eyes, “This is the best thing I have ever eaten.”

Rook snorted, “Shut up, no it’s not.”

She swallowed down her mouthful, “Rook, I’m telling you, I’ve eaten at the Orlesian royal court itself, but this blows their chefs out of the water. This is so good,” she shovelled another forkful into her mouth, “Thank you.”

“Eva.”

“What?”

“My friends call me Eva.”

She smiled at her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Eva, I’m Brenna.” She lifted her mug of tea towards her, “To small acts of rebellion.”

Eva grabbed her mug and tapped it against hers, “May they see us through.”

[exalted-dawn-drabbles]

Happy Friday! From the touch prompts: "Offering a hand to help them up after they've fallen" for Deanna de Riva/Lucanis

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE PROMPT! I just love Dee and Lucanis' relationship and this was such a fun opportunity to explore it. I want to study them under a microscope >:] Hope you enjoy a lil rivals-to-lovers sparring sesh uwu for @dadrunkwriting - Veilguard ahoy! Rated G: Romance, Banter, Slice of Life

Ignorance Is Bliss | Exalted_Dawn

Dee blinks up in undisguised surprise to find his hand waiting there, just in front of her eyes.

It was far from the first time Lucanis Dellamorte had put her out on her ass– an occurrence that grew more frustrating the more familiar it became to her. But this? This was new.

She studied him skeptically, and then his hand again. “I could trip you, you know.”

He laughed. “You could try,” he agreed. “But, yes, I know.” 

“Or stab you,” she also pointed out, pushing up from the dirt-and-gravel coated stone of the Lighthouse courtyard. Small bits of dried gris flaked away from her back as she rolled her shoulders, feeling for injury. She could feel nothing that needed immediate tending, but by the winge of pain in the ball socket of her left arm, she might need to see Emmerich about her tendon tomorrow if she couldn’t sleep it off. 

“Also true,” he hummed. “Provided you were quick enough and caught me on an off day. Throwing me would not be out of the question either.” His hand remained outstretched. 

“I was thinking something closer to pinning your arm,” she said after a moment, and slid her grip smoothly into his. “All it would take is a twist to your elbow and a blow to your knee. You’re quick, but you’re a bit of a lightweight, garrito. Wouldn’t take that much to hold you down.” 

With a tug, Deanna felt herself lifted from the ground, her balance righting itself once she found her heels properly under herself again. Setting her feet, Dee let go of Lucanis’ hand to brush the dirt from her pants. It stood out too much on the black. 

“Just as it wouldn’t have taken much for me to simply drop you again as I was pulling you up.” He grinned slyly. “And yet, here we are.”

Deanna scoffed. “Smug bastard. You should be careful-” She tapped the sheathed scimitar still strapped to her hip. “Contentment will kill a man.” 

Dellamorte’s heir crossed the stone to retrieve the small dagger he had disarmed her of not but a few minutes ago. Flipping it in his hand, he returned and presented it to her hilt first. “As will Ignorance, or so I’ve seen. But in spite of myself, I trust you to use neither against me for now.” 

There was that word again: ‘trust’. For the grandson of Caterina the Blackshrike, he tended to throw that one around far more than one ever should. Why she was so intent on having him succeed the seat of First Talon was beyond her. His soft heart would bleed easily beneath the knife.

Moving quick as quick, she snatched the knife from between his fingers and had the blade pressed to his internal carotid artery before either could even blink. “And that, Dellamorte, is exactly how Ignorance kills best.” 

She sheathed the knife and turned to leave. Annoyed as she was to admit it, he was right– she wouldn’t kill him today. Not yet. 

Until they killed these puffed up mages, she would begrudgingly continue to accept his offered hand. And perhaps one day soon, that would then be the death of him.

~*~*~*~ Tidbit 1: Deanna's name for Lucanis "Garrito" means "Little Talon", and basically stems from Dee claiming Lucanis didn't really earn his position within the crows and was instead given it by Caterina Tidbit 2: Deanna's blades are in fact called Contentment and Ignorance, and she is quite proud of their names XD

[ghostwise]

from the veilguard artefacts prompts! 5. Letters taken from the library in Weisshaupt, tied in a bundle

LOVED THIS ONEEE this one was so fun, thank you! Some notes: In my worldstate Alistair is Warden Commander, and Var'myathan, the Dalish land boon, thrives in the South.

“I washed my hands of Warden business long ago,” he says, and it hurts, though it shouldn’t.

That their shared brotherhood—their only commonality at this point—is so distasteful to him, so very worth forgetting, hurts. But then again, if there’s one thing Alistair knows about the Blight, it’s that people choose how they remember it.

For him, time has distilled those feelings and experiences into something potent, terrible, yet formative. Every instance of the man he has become is touched by it. No Blight, no Alistair. And there’s the rub.

For Hamal, his memories of the Blight are something to be discarded.

Both of these viewpoints are correct, or at least, no more reprehensible than the other.

Alistair smiles. He slides the letters across the table once again. Hamal fixes him with an uneasy stare.

“Is this an order, Warden Commander?” he asks, his glasses giving him a rather owlish appearance.

“Maker, no. It’s a gift,” Alistair replies. “Can’t you tell by how nicely I’ve wrapped them for you?”

Hamal doesn’t laugh, but the corners of his mouth lift for a moment. He reaches for the papers.

“And what gift is so important you have made the trip all the way to Var’myathan to deliver it?”

“Letters,” Alistair says with a sheepish smile. “My letters.”

“Letters are traditionally mailed, Warden Commander.”

“Not when they contain controversial or suppressed knowledge,” Alistair says. “Knowledge about the Blight. Knowledge about the Taint. Such letters might be best hand-delivered.”

Hamal’s fingers are steady as he unwraps the parcel. There are stamps upon the envelopes, the sort that were used in the old days; simple cork and blue ink, and, in this instance, magical enchantments that light up against the touch of warm hands. The envelopes have been waiting to be opened, all this time, patient in their knowledge.

“I smuggled them out of Weisshaupt,” Alistair admits.

Hamal eyes him for a moment. “Why?”

“We’re not getting any younger, my friend.” Alistair reclines in his seat and for a moment remembers that he has, by now, outlived Duncan—but he refocuses sharply on the conversation at hand, scored as it is by an ever-present dirge. “In the years following the Blight, I encountered many strange things. Darkspawn that could speak and reason like men. Wardens that had extended their lifespan in unnatural and twisted ways… these field reports were buried, as so much of what we lived to this day has been buried… never to see the light of day. I speak of your own miraculous survival as well, you see.”

Hamal sets the letters down and watches him with an inscrutable expression.

Alistair smiles.

He’s mastered the knack of instilling a healthy dose of fear into his Warden recruits, while never betraying his friendly exterior. Now he’s convinced he has delivered his message adequately, and made his good friend squirm long enough.

“In any case,” he concludes, “It will do more good in your hands than in the First Warden. The Order is—well.” Alistair stands, his blue cloak fanning out with an elegant sweep of his arm. “I wouldn’t bore you with all that. It’s all things you already know, or things you are better off not knowing. Just understand that in keeping these… you would be doing me a favor. And in reading them, even more so. No orders. No obligations. Just… a favor, from an old friend.”

Hamal flips through the letters, occasionally pausing to squint at the writing on the envelopes. He finally groups them together again, tapping them against the table to line up their edges neatly. He doesn’t look up.

“Thank you for the audience,” Alistair says. “If you do ever read my ramblings, let me know what you make of them. Take care.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, sit down Alistair,” Hamal says. “Haven’t even given me a chance to find my reading glasses.”

[wishforhome]

happy friday and welcome to dadwc!! (: a prompt for whatever combination of the wardencrow polycule suits you: ❛ hard to sit here and be close to you, and not kiss you. ❜

Viago/Rook - Veilguard as usual. I guess this is an outtake from Wings of Change.

@dadrunkwriting

hard to sit here and be close to you, and not kiss you

As a Warden, Rook avoided the medics as much as possible. In ten years, she attended maybe two of her annual physicals without needing to be compelled with the threat of latrine duty. It isn’t that she hates needles, or healers, or anything of that sort. She just doesn’t like the attention, being poked and prodded and examined. (There is maybe something there, something about watching the way they’d inspected slaves in Vyrantium, pulling at their lips to see their teeth, watching and knowing it could be her. She does not look at this idea too closely.) And besides, she knows enough healing magic to get by on her own.

 And yet this routine has become familiar: here she sits, perched on a stool in the small laboratory in the back of the apartment Viago shares with Teia, watching him as he prepares the materials for another blood draw.

He is always asking for more blood, too cautious to keep a sample on hand for more than a few hours. She tries to tease him about it – Vi, seriously, you could open a blood bank at this point – but his fingers tighten on the glass vial in his hand and he looks pained, so she lets it drop.

Viago is tense today – more tightly wound than usual. He’s been like this lately, more distant, harder to pin down. Caution in public is one thing, but even alone, he’s kept a careful distance. Rook frowns from beneath the fringe of her bangs, watching him as he leans over his desk, consulting his notes for what feels like the fifteenth time.

“Vi,” she says.

He looks up at her with an expression that is somewhere between inquisitive and annoyed.

“You’re doing that thing again,” she says. The thing where he overthinks a procedure that they’ve done together what must be a dozen times by now. “Just come over here and get it over with.”

It is something she never thought she’d do – pester a man to take her blood. To analyze her. Examine her.

He huffs a sigh and then presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He gets that furrow in his brow that Teia always teases him about.

She parts her thighs when he steps closer to her. It is one of the few intimacies he allows them, the way he comes to stand between her legs when he takes her blood. They both know what he’s doing, getting that close. She does not comment on it, or he will stop. He stands between her knees, and she stretches out her left arm for him.

The routine is familiar. He ties the strap around her bicep, taps the vein. She waits for the perfect moment, when he is most focused, his eyes sharp as he peers at the the thin skin in the ditch of her elbow, rubbing a thumb over that spot to bring up the vein.

“This is very difficult for me, you know,” she tells him.

“You don’t like tests, I remember.” He spares her a quick glance. “I am sorry we have to do this so often.”

“No, not that,” she says. “It’s just hard to sit here, and be close to you, and not kiss you.”

His fingers tighten on her arm, the way they always do when she says something flirtatious during their moments together in his lab. He really should be used to it by now, she thinks, as she watches the blush rise in his cheeks.

“Rook, please,” he says, a note of warning in his voice. He sounds serious. Perhaps that was too far, today, when he is already so unsettled. There is a thin line with him, that she is always navigating, and it shifts so often with his moods.  She wants to touch his elbow, to make some reassuring gesture to calm him, but she knows it would not help.

She offers him a change of subject instead, making her tone curious. “What are you testing for today, anyway?” It’s funny, really, how the simple question helps drain the tension from his shoulders. Give him something to explain, and he relaxes.

He lifts the slender needle from the table. His hands move deliberately, without the slightest tremor, as he pierces her vein. He begins to talk about baseline resistances and toxin cross-reactivity, and Rook doesn’t know what most of it means, but she loves the lilt of his accent and the way his fingertips brush the inside of her arm as he works.