#mage rook

[postmanlee514]

sth about my Rookanis #01 Nels is a little bit higher than Lucanis

[awardenandacrow]

FANFIC SNIPPET 32

NOTE: chronologically this falls after The Choice and before Neve’s return. There is more to this between the main part and the letters that I need to fill in. This is directly before the snippet where Neve confronts Rook about her activities in Minrathos (Snippet 17).

[Lucanis wants a sparring partner, and takes the opportunity to help Rook work on her mageknife technique.]

CW/TW: Brief violence, blood.

——————————————————————————

“I’m sorry, I’m just…” Naimeryn groaned in frustration, then tossed her mageknife aside and turned away from him. “I feel like I’m just not *meant* to get this.”

Lucanis’s Crow training screamed through every fiber of his being. You don’t drop your weapon. You don’t turn your back on your opponent. Unthinking, he grabbed her arm and spun her back towards him, mouth open to offer criticism.

Assan had him pinned on his back in an instant with an angry shriek. The griffon snapped his beak at him in irritation.

“Assan!” Rook shouted, grabbing the griffon around the neck. Startled, Assan spun, knocking Rook over.

BLOOD! Spite hissed angrily.

“Assan! Come here!” Davrin’s voice. Lucanis, uninjured, leapt to his feet and closed the distance between himself and Rook in one stride.

“It was a warning,” he told her apologetically, grabbing her arm — much more gently this time. The wounds Assan’s claws had left were shallow, and would likely not even scar, but they bled freely. “What were you thinking?”

“I was *thinking,*” Rook’s voice was small. Hurt. Confused. “That I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Lucanis shook his head, intentionally softening his tone. Rook wasn’t a fledgling. She’d never undergone *any* Crow training. He couldn’t act like that’s what this was. “You can’t just throw your weapon away when you’re sparring. Don’t they teach you that at Weisshaupt?”

“Lucanis,” Davrin’s voice was a warning. Lucanis finally looked up from Naimeryn’s arm, and his heart skipped a beat. Dammit. Her face and ears were red, and she had her head turned away from him to hide her embarrassed tears. He released her.

“We should tend to these,” he said uncomfortably.

“I’ve got it,” she said sharply, standing up with her back to him and going to retrieve her mageknife. “Maybe ask Davrin to spar with you next time. He knows the rules better than I do.”

She walked quickly away, back towards the library, undoubtedly on her way to the infirmary.

“Smooth,” Davrin remarked. He still hadn’t moved from the base of his stairs, where Assan squawked anxiously. “She knows you didn’t mean it, boy. Maybe watch those claws next time, though.”

Lucanis sighed, sheathing his dagger and getting to his feet. He needed someone to release his frustration on, and Davrin was right there, looking so smug.

“I do not understand,” Lucanis snapped at him. “The fabled Grey Wardens, Heroes of Old, but —“

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Davrin scowled at him. “I never knew Rook at Weisshaupt. But I knew *of* her. I’ve been asking around other Wardens I know, and I’m getting the *same* remark. There were Wardens who hated her, because she was *hand recruited* by the Hero of Ferelden herself. Others used to try to cozy up to her to get closer to the Hero, only to find out there were no special circumstances, no special relationship between them, so then they didn’t care.”

Davrin closed the distance between them. “The mage that trained her, Lucienne? A cautious woman. Theory and control. The other mages were leagues ahead of Rook in both, so she trained *alone.* She’s never *had* a sparring partner, Lucanis.”

Davrin turned sharply enough that his shoulder clipped Lucanis, but he let it go. His mind was overflowing with images of Rook — alone.

The apostate daughter of an apostate in an alienage in a kingdom where apostates were more likely to be killed than shown mercy, kept away from the other children for everyone’s safely. The apostate slave in a magister’s household, hated and feared by the slaves who knew, because she could become the favorite if the magister knew. The others, she seemed to have kept at arm’s length, because that was easier than distance becoming hate. The Warden, forcibly isolated from her fellows by recruitment, by skill level, by history, by her superiors. Kept in the most isolated jobs — doing dishes, laundry duty, librarian’s assistant

— to keep her humble. Called a deluded girl for daring to step outside of the carefully drawn box she’d been placed in.

“You know,” Davrin called back from the top of the stairs, “you *love* to make it out like I’m not observant for giving her shit when she doesn’t see something on her left. But this?”

He indicated the courtyard at large.

“This was pretty dense of you.”

…

SPECIAL SNIPPETS

NOTE: there will be some “connective tissue” as it were before the above and these letters, but I haven’t written it yet

—————————————————————————

Hey Neve,

I know things are bad in Minrathos, but I hope you remember we’re here, and can be there to offer support if you only remember to ask. Everyone misses you.

I overheard Rook today. She was in the infirmary, talking to Varric. I think she’s having a harder time with everything than we thought. I want to help you both, but I just don’t know how.

Hoping things are going as well as they can be,

Lace

…

Lace,

If talking to him is what’s going to get her through this, leave it alone. She’ll confide in *us* when she’s ready.

As for Minrathos, it seems I don’t need to ask for help to receive it.

-Neve

…

Neve,

I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.

Lace Harding

[erika-xero]

For @dancing--lights! Livia - also known as Rook - and detective Neve Gallus.

Working on this illustration was s a pure delight! ~

[thesummerstorms]

Okay, but what if Lucanis does buy Rook de Riva an important (mage)knife.

He gets knives, he has a good weaponsmith, but mages don't use their knives as much for stabbing/slashing directly as channeling elemental magic to stab with, so he goes to Emmrich and asks for the simplest, most paired down explanation of crafting materials' effect on magical frequencies that is humanly possible, specifically as it applies to knives.

Emmrich reminds Lucanis that he is in fact a stave user, but Rook would be a good person to ask.

Lucanis grits his teeth because he can tell from the older man's smile that Emmrich is having some fun at his expense. Of course Emmrich knows it's for Arsinoë. Lucanis hadn't wanted to be that obvious, but he can admit that it is.

Unfortunately, even when sincere, Emmrich is incapable of simple. Poor Lucanis knew this going in, of course and decided on Emmrich anyway because Neve would catch on too quickly and spoil her own gift and Bellara was equally incapable of simple and more prone to distracted tangents. It doesn't mean he's any more prepared to make sense of all this, and in the end he has to take Emmrich to meet his weaponsmith directly.

(The resulting "collaborative brainstorming session" almost scared Lucanis, put his favorite weaponsmith in a mind to possible shift specialties entirely, and cost House Dellamorte the price of a fully functional forge. It's still worth it.)

The end result is a beautiful piece of everite that feels vividly like the air in a storm in Rook's hands yet looks deceptively crystalline and fragile. It immediately becomes her favorite, unlike the vanished knife he gave Viago all those years ago, and from her shy smiles, he likes to think this time he's been understood.

Altogether, things are going well for once. If he feels more pride than maybe is reasonable every time he sees the everite blade in her hands alive with magic that cuts through a Venatori, then that's between him and Spite.

And Arsinoë. And Neve. And honestly everyone else because he's so terrible at hiding it.

All is going well, for once.

Until Tearstone Island, when he wakes up to Neve's anguished face, purple shards like crystal that cut through his gloves as he reaches for the snapped blade and severed hilt, his blood mixing with the sand, and-

and no Rook.

[backtofiction28]

Rook: Lucanis, hear me out, but what if Spite did learn fire?

Spite (Lucanis): Give me! Fire!

Lucanis: NO.

Rook: But think about it, though. If Spite learned fire then you would have an easier time disposing of the bodies.

Spite (Lucanis): Rook! Is my! Favorite!

Lucanis: Mierda...

[therookandthecrow]

If only you knew the extent of what my Rook sees in you, Lucanis. ❤️

[larkoneironaut]

Noita de Riva🪻🌩️🌌

[evenstarre]

pushing my davrook agenda

[master-of-the-elements]

I think I have a type 🧐😏

Handsome monster hunters who leave home, have estranged relationships with their family, swear to protect others, gain several scars, have their bodies altered in some way and you have to convince them to put themselves first.

And I make a weather/storm themed spellcaster/mage to romance them ☺️🙃🙂‍↕️

[meowsgirldrawing]

Fenris POV: When yer daughter looks like you but is clearly your wife's child too

(PS. Good Luck, Lucanis)

[inthehootwetrust]

Saw people doing this with screenshots from the game, wanted to give it a go with art

[postmanlee514]

Spite did a favor for Lucanis

I love Emmerich talks with Rookanis

[silent-words]

Dragon Age OC's Harrowing Demon

Hello! As we know, every mage in Thedas goes through the Harrowing ritual to show that they are fully grown mages. From Dorian's words in the Inquisition we can deduce that this is practiced even in Tevinter. During the ritual the mage enters the Fade and confronts a demon, which they have to vanquish. My idea is that the demon they face isn't a random one, but something that reflects the mage's personality, their weaknesses. So, that's why I decided to create a poll!

If you have several mage OC's, choose one. Reblog and tell me about your OC!

[novarunestone]

Veilguard Masterlist

(Imagine) Being Loved By Me (Chapter 1/2)

Days after things came to head at Villa Dellamorte, Lucanis has his revenge, he is First Talon. But there is one thing he's missing, one last bit of business to conclude. And for that, he needs Taliesin.

An Echo, A Forethought, A Prayer (pre-release fics of Taliesin x Lucanis as listed below):

Please bear in mind that the fics in this series were written and posted pre-release. So certain things may have unfolded differently or be out of character once the game released in full. I was too excited and impatient to resist posting about Taliesin.

Coffee Beans and the Heat of Desire (one-shot/complete)

Lucanis takes a healing Taliesin to Treviso to stretch her legs. Coffee is shared and so are confessions.

It Stems from Love (one-shot/complete)

Taliesin and Spite have very different ideas on what's best for Lucanis. And Lucanis doesn't want Taliesin anywhere near Spite.

The Birds and the Bees (one-shot/complete)

The rest of the Veilguard knows that Taliesin and Lucanis are hiding something and decide to make a wager. Taliesin does her best to distract Lucanis.

Driven to Distraction (one-shot/complete)

A series of snapshots from Lucanis' POV as he gets to know Taliesin and sort out some emotions he isn't familiar with once he joins the Veilguard.

Canvas of a Lover (one-shot/complete)

Taliesin and Lucanis share a moment and reflect on the meaning of scars. Even the ones that can't be seen.

Precious Cargo (one-shot/complete)

Taliesin welcomes a new member of the Veilguard. Lucanis notices she has an endearing habit.

[awkward-tension-art]

Oops. Having thoughts.

Mage!Rook forced through the Rite of Tranquility. I can imagine Lucanis would shut down entirely and Spite would take over for actual days on end out of pure, unadulterated rage.

[ofcrowsanddragons]

He'll never say a word, but it makes Lucanis breathless with worry. Rook is a force of nature in battle, wielding a mage knife as though born with it in hand. Lightning crackles across the killing field, and death stalks their enemies in the form of the slight mage. An unstoppable force.

The younger Crow wears light regalia barely sturdy enough to turn away a knife in the back. One straight hit from an axe or a sword means death. To Lucanis, every dodge or block feels like a grain of sand in an hourglass.

All he can do is push aside the feeling. All he can do is be fast enough, strong enough, good enough that the final blow will never land.