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felassan · 4 months ago

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Compilation of snippets from the DA:TV acting talent panel at SDCC (Dragon Age: Meet the Heroic Companions of Thedas) today (July 26th). DA:TV spoilers under cut.

Huge props and tysm to the users who live-tweeted and clipped this panel, you are heroes 🙏💜!!

The panel was moderated. In attendance were John Epler, creative performance director Ashley Barlow, and the actors of Lucanis, Neve, Emmrich, and Harding - Zach Mendez, Jessica Clark, Nick Boraine, and Ali Hillis respectively.

The panel ended with a Q&A session.

(BioWare have stated that a recording of the panel will be made available at a later date.)

Edit/update: I've now been through this post and tidied it up :)

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Here are some pictures from the panel [source]

Here are some more pictures from the panel [source]

In this Twitter thread there are also some video clips of parts of the panel [source]

BioWare tried to avoid spoilers in the panel [source]

Key points/summary of DA:TV: hunting Solas, found family companions, stop the elven gods [source]

When auditioning the companions, BW were specifically looking for character chemistry [source]

BW used motion capture for the game [source]. Mo-cap was mentioned a lot in the panel [source]

Lucanis sees assassination as a job. His mind is as dangerous as his knives and he is also "kinda hilarious" [source]

There was mention of other Crows [source]

Zach Mendez read Tevinter Nights like three times [source]

A clip of the actors doing mo-cap was shown [source]. Photos of Zach mo-capping for other characters was shown [source]

BioWare said that Zach brought a certain darkness to Lucanis [source]

Zach is excited for the romance and is looking forward to the stats [source]

Zach mentioned that he used his own relationship with his brother in his portrayal of Lucanis [source] (surely this means ILLARIO.. ?👀)

Zach played a lot of darkspawn originally while auditioning [source]

Ali Hillis really welcomed Zach into the DA family [source]

Neve is from Minrathous. She has fun banter and is a cynical detective with a heart of gold. They want to show a rebellious side of Tevinter [source]

Jessica Clark loves Neve's loyalty, dedication, and different vision of Tevinter

Neve is fighting for the people [source]. Jessica: "She is really really fighting for those people, and she loves those people. So, yes, she's cynical, and yes she's kind of tough and brusque and all these other things, but when they say there's a heart of gold, there really, like, to have that kind of a passion and dedicate your life to something like that, I think that's definitely my favorite part about her" [source]

Jessica loves how much Neve loves Docktown and its people [source]

Neve sees a different vision for Tevinter than what has previously been depicted in the series [source]

The actors were separate from one another while recording lines but still bonded really well and organically [source]

There are several Veilguard gc [source] (groupchats?)

Ali is an angel and very supportive of the new cast [source]

Emmrich is a "stone cold silver fox" (this is a quote from the panel moderator) [source]

BioWare knew the reaction they would get about Emmrich from the fandom [source]

Nick Boraine feels like he's been preparing for Emmrich all his life. He's obsessed with death (as a comfort and not scary) and enabling people to transition into death. He is attracted to this aspect of the character [source]

"You're gonna need a dictionary for Emmrich" for all the magic spells [source]

"Interesting how this character caught fire compared to the other sexy characters" [source] (I think this was said wrt Emmrich?)

BW had a great time recording with Nick, he is a very consistent actor [source]

Nick and Matt Mercer have never met [source]

Manfred plays off of Emmrich. "I set the tone" [source]

What has Harding been doing in-between DA:I and DA:TV? She's been working closely with Varric and the Inquisition remnants. She and Neve already met in the comics [source]

Ali vividly remembers the beginning of voicing Harding, she says it's brilliant writing. She really thought of Harding's personality and traits. She's so happy to be back [source]

wrt the Covid-19 pandemic and the year 2020, BW had to pivot with working remotely and were able to push through their projects. [source]

"[Harding] chasing Solas for a decade..." "that was a great relationship that [you] developed... and now I'll stop talking now". Ali was excited [source]

John Epler talked about how companions may but heads, and won't be predictable [source]

There are thousands and thousands of lines and so many characters to meet [source]

Zach "unfortunately has been around the DA Reddit before recording as Lucanis" [source]. He feels inspired by all the fans and cannot wait for us to play it [source]

[new textblock due to character limit!]

John Epler on Emmrich: "I mean honestly, I will say, like, we expected a great reaction to Emmrich. Went beyond what we expected for sure. But it’s been fascinating to see, because again, Emmrich is this character, he’s more of the professorial, more, he brings a wisdom and kind of a calmness to the group, so even when things are at their worst, there’s that one person in the group who is kinda like, ‘okay, y’know, we've got, let's figure it out, let’s take a deep breath’. And just his journey through his character arc, and his interactions with the others, it’s been fantastic to see. Even just finding opportunities for him to bounce off the other characters, you know, the way he talks to Bellara, the way he talks to Neve, it’s all so different, but it’s also just, again, based around this core of this warm, kind-hearted, professorial necromancer. Which, again, is not something you see a lot of in media. I mean, usually, necromancers are depicted in a very specific way. But it’s been, it's awesome to see how Emmrich has grown and just, really one of the most, one of my favorite experiences has been just working with Emmrich’s writer, working with Emmrich as a character." [source]

All the actors are excited about the dialogue and narrative, and for us to explore DA:TV [source]

Ali says that we will really find ourselves in this game [source]

During the recording process, the actors all hear the previous person's recording and react or respond to it [source]

Due to Covid-related lockdown, a lot of recording was done over Zoom, and the writers besides Ashley Barlow (creative performance director) would jump in on the call to talk about the previous person’s lines [source]

A question was asked about the background factions. "Characters not causes". [source]

You can work with the Grey Wardens in the game (for example) [source]

The actors all met this weekend. They are an "un-chosen" family [source]

Zach stood in for multiple characters for mo-cap, for example he was Assan [source]

Lucanis has a heart but is stubborn and stuck in his ways. Zach is excited for fans to help his character open up as the story progresses [source]

Jessica is incredibly honored to join the DA universe. She is new to voice acting for video games. “This is play pretend. Playing Neve allowed her to step into her power.” [source]

A question was asked on what their first exposure to fantasy was, and do they implement this into the acting? John talked about Lord of the Rings and how every media you experience will seep out into your work [source]

Ashley didn't want the dialogue to sound modern [source]

Zach loves Theseus and talked about the symbolism in DA [source]

Jessica loves Greek mythology and lore [source]

Nick talked about The Hobbit and how he would dress up in big boots and a cape when his mother would read to him [source]

Ali recently went to Greece and felt like she saw DA everywhere [source]

A question was asked - "From your companion's perspective, which previous companion would you romance?" Zach kind of has a thing for The Iron Bull, saying "oh that awakened something inside of me". He also likes Dorian. Jessica was too overwhelmed to answer. Nick was also overwhelmed by the question, but thinks Solas is sexy [source] [source]

Ali fangirled over Lucanis and Emmrich [source], prefers Emmrich [source]

A question was asked - "Is DA:TV and DA:I streamlined together?" [paraphrased]. Answer: DA games are not as streamlined as Mass Effect and act almost as standalones [source]

The cast were asked about which aspect of their character is their favorite. Ali loves the little quirks about Harding. "Lucanis is a good cook!?" ** Neve is very dry and pretty closed off about it. For Emmrich, it's the "exploration of the idea of death and necromancy" [source] (** FINALLY CITATION for this? :D)

A question was asked: "How do you decide to introduce the lore in each game?" BioWare answered that it depends as they build each game. They always know the base lore, and see opportunities through game mechanics and characters. They try not to infodump [source]

A question was asked: "Any favorite party banter?" Ashley Barlow said to listen for "hand to bone combat" [source]

The game takes place approximately 10 years after the end of DA:I. You start the game hunting for Solas. The game is built on some core principles: be who you want to be in a world worth saving and with characters that matter. The companions are always at the heart of DA and they are at the heart of this game too. [source]

The moderator asked John Epler about what is bringing this party of people ("this rogues' gallery") together. John: "I mean, it's the end of the world, and each character that you bring into your party understands that the world is ending, that they need to stop that, and you're really building, what I would say is, more of a found family. These are characters who may not start off liking each other, may not even start off liking you, but over time they grow to understand the importance of what they're doing and just, how critical it is to stop the elven gods" [source]

"He is kind and has some spectacular lines. He is a natural nerdy scientist. He loves learning." [source] (Emmrich? ^^)

Ali didn't realize that Harding was such a beloved character. She thanked fans for bringing this character back [source]

Ali is super excited that the game is releasing. She said that there has been an evolution to Harding's character and that she's been chasing Solas for like a decade at this point [source]

Jessica loves the writing in the game [source]

Nick loves its narrative [source]

Ali said that this game is going to take you into a world that will blow your minds [source]

On Manfred: Nick was asked what it was like having another character to bounce off of. He said "Oh man! I mean, that is such a hard question, because Matt and I have never met, and we worked completely separately, and, I, I mean I know that the rapport is really great, but it's in the ether, I mean it is just, the magic that these guys create, telling us how to respond, how to do that, but it's, I can't wait to meet Matt" [source]

BW still said that the game's release window is Fall 2024 [source]. Nothing more specific was given [source]

There are also more snippets here in this Tumblr post, go check it out!

[source, two]

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dinosaursr66 · 13 days ago

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We lost this very important man. For Shel Talmy.

SONG OF THE DAY - Monday, November 18, 2024

#song of the day #shel talmy #the creation #the who #the rolling stones #the kinks #the easybeats #manfred mann #david bowie #chad and jeremy

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peonysgreenhouse · 13 days ago

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and still, i will live here.

summary: after the siege of weisshaupt, emmrich helps rook bathe. (rook x emmrich volkarin)

tags: 3.1k words, she/her pronouns for rook, rook is an elf/rogue/mourn watcher, bathing/washing, fluff, hurt/comfort, pre-relationship, rook is bad at feelings, emmrich is not.

Rook stands at the bottom of the staircase and mentally counts the number of steps that lead up to the second floor. She wonders if it would be easier to just curl up underneath the meeting table; skin soaked with blight and ichor and all.

Such exhaustion felt too big for her body. Sure, she had scrubbed the headstones in the Memorial Gardens from sunrise to sundown as punishment many times, but that weariness was manageable. This was not.

If she would’ve just died at Weisshaupt, at least she wouldn’t have to stand, and persist. An eternal rest sounds nice for both her body and her conscience.

It’s Manfred’s chattering that catches her hazy attention. He ambles over to her, bones rattling with each step. It’s a pleasant sound, familiar, and it’s almost enough to bring a smile to her weary face.

Manfred makes a noise akin to a screeching, and starts to slowly walk up the stairs. With each step, Manfred turns to her, as if beckoning her to follow. Or perhaps, he assumed that her idling by the bottom of the staircase meant she didn’t know how to use the stairs. He stops at the fifth step and hisses again, turning to face her, and takes another step down.

Rook does smile at that. She lets out a sigh, and relents, slowly following Manfred up the stairs. Rook clutches at her side as she walks up the stairs; exhaustion weighs heavy on her shoulders, draped like an oversized coat.

Manfred hisses happily when she reaches the top of the stairs, and she huffs out a laugh, turning to her room as she bids the spirit goodnight.

“Rook?” Emmrich. Rook turns to face her companion, trying to will a smile to her face. She didn’t want him to worry.

“Emmrich.” She says, quiet and fond. “Need something? I’m about to head to bed.”

Emmrich raises an eyebrow, his fingers steepled in front of him. Even after Weisshaupt he still looked put together; prim and dandy as he always did. She’s almost envious, she can only imagine how unkempt she looked in comparison.

“Covered in all that…” He makes a vague gesture, cutting off his words as if to not offend. “You should at least bathe first. Clean off all those cuts and bruises. I would hate for them to get infected.”

Rook lets out another breathy, tired laugh. “I’m afraid I’d fall asleep in the tub and drown.”

Emmrich’s expression softens. It makes something in Rook’s chest tighten uncomfortably.

“I would be happy to aid you. But only if you’re comfortable with it.” He suggests, kindly.

“Are you sure?” Rook asks, but the thought of a warm bath does seem nice. Especially if she got to collapse in bed afterwards. “You fought today too, surely you’re tired as well–”

“Yes, but I wasn’t in the thick of it like you were.” He answers, lacing his fingers together. “You made sure of that. Allow me to repay you in what small way I can.”

Rook doesn’t have the energy to protest like she might normally. She acquiesces with a nod. “Alright. That would be nice.”

“Excellent.” He says, clapping his hands together, his jewelry clinking as he does. “I’ll draw a bath.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Rook manages to traipse her way to her room and grabs herself a clean pair of comfy clothes; a thoroughly-worn tunic she had nicked from a friend in the Mourn Watchers, and a loose pair of breeches. She gives the mirror sitting on top of her chester drawer a wide berth.

She walks back to Emmrich’s room, tracing a finger along the stone walls as she goes. The door was already propped open, the smell of chamomile and lavender enticing her to step closer. She peeks inside, and sees Emmrich unfolding a screen divider, as if to give the bathing area a little privacy.

“Emmrich?” You call, and he stands up to full height, looking rather pleased with himself.

“Ah, Rook!” He answers, folding his hands together in front of him. “Come in, feel free to set your clean clothes anywhere you’d like. And do tell me if the water is too hot or too cold.”

Ever the gentleman, Emmrich turns around as she walks towards the tub. Rook thinks it's silly, no doubt all their companions have seen her in worse states than being in the nude; crawling out of blight pustules or wading through the entrails of failed Venatori rituals seemed like normalcy now. Sometimes it took multiple washes to rid her armor of the rot.

Still, Rook is thankful for the privacy. Emmrich was a kindness she knew she didn’t deserve.

Rook sets her clean clothes on the floor near the tub, changing out of her armor as quickly as she can. Even raising her arms to pull the leather over her head felt grueling, but Emmrich remains with his back turned the whole time. Rook leaves her dirtied armor in a pile on the floor. She was thankful the blood and blight had dried already – it would take longer to clean, but at least she wasn’t staining his brick flooring. She could almost hear the lecture he’d give her if she did.

Slowly, Rook sinks into the bathtub. The water is nice and hot, and the scent of the bath oils make her eyelids feel heavy. She pulls her knees up to her chest.

“Emmrich?” She says, clearing her throat after her words come out hoarse. “You can turn around now.”

“Wonderful.” Emmrich answers. He claps his hands together, and it’s only then she realizes that he’s lost all the finery he usually wears. No rings or bracelets, no glove, his vest discarded and his yellow collared shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Communal bathing was normal in Nevarra, but this is different, intimate.

“No need to worry, Rook.” He assures, as if sensing her discomfort. “Tell me if you wish for me to stop, and I’ll leave. No questions asked. But for now, allow me to take care of you.”

Rook sucks in a breath on instinct, her weary brain searching for something to say to ease the slowly surmounting urge to flee.

“...Right.” She says with a breathy laugh, sinking further into the tub. Rook’s eyes follow Emmrich as he grabs a few bottles out of a drawer, as well as a wash rag. He pulls up a stool to the side of the tub and sits down, setting the bottles on the floor beside him.

“I noticed you were short of breath when you addressed us tonight.” Emmrich says, dipping the wash rag into the bath water and wringing it out. “Did you hurt your ribs perhaps?”

A man as learned in Anatomy as he was would notice that, Rook thinks bitterly. Her hand subconsciously comes up to her side underneath the water. “Yeah, I…” She starts. “The Archdemon got me pretty good with the back of its tail. It’s not an open wound, but… It’s got some pretty nasty bruising.”

Emmrich nods. “If you’d like, I can take a look at it for you after we get you washed up.”

“I’ll be okay. I’m sure you’re tired from… everything that’s happened today. Wouldn’t want you exhausting yourself on my account.”

“Nonsense.” He says firmly. “If it is just bruises like you say, it will take little effort to expedite the healing process.”

Again, such kindness. It makes her throat feel thick with uncomfortable emotion. Rook didn’t know how to handle his sincerity; it felt antithetical to everything she was.

“I’ll just take a healing potion before bed.” She answers, tilting her head towards the far wall so he can’t see her flustered expression. “I’ll be alright.”

“If that’s what you think is best. But know my offer will always stand.” Emmrich says, not wanting to press on an already open wound. “Now, if you would…” Emmrich scoots his chair a little closer. “My dear, we must have a talk about how you handle yourself in battle. Not even Taash ends up as messy as you.”

That makes Rook laugh earnestly, her bruises aching as she does. She feels much more comfortable with this conversation. “Not everyone can stay behind and shoot… magic beams like you.” Rook says, a playful tone to her voice. “A rogue’s gotta get her hands dirty.”

Emmrich pauses as if he was going to correct her, but ultimately just sighs. “Yes, it would be fine if it were just your hands.” Emmrich brings the cloth forward to her shoulder. “You have blood inside your ears.”

“I mean...” Rook shrugs, sucking in a breath as he begins to gently scrub the dried blood from the side of her neck. She feels the sting as he cleans out one of the fresh cuts right above her clavicle, just shallow enough that it didn’t tear into anything important. “I have big ears. Hard to keep ‘em from getting involved in the action.”

“Still, you should be more careful, Rook.” Emmrich says, reaching up to wipe off a smear of blood off her cheek. The warmth of the cloth feels nice against her skin. “I have the utmost confidence in your skills, but you do have a tendency towards recklessness.”

“You sound like Myrna.” She mumbles, tilting her head down so he can clean a cut right above her eyebrow. Rook didn’t even realize she had gotten that one, her body felt like one giant ball of hurt. It was hard to pinpoint the little injuries.

Emmrich seemed to spot them all, though.

“I can tell Myrna cares a great deal for your well-being.” He says, rinsing the cloth out in the bath water. He wrings it out once again; the water takes on a reddish hue. “As do I. As does everyone here, for that matter.”

Rook opens her mouth to respond, but then Emmrich brings the cloth up to one of her ears. It’s just a quick swipe, but it makes her shiver. Instinctively, Rook jerks her head back, her cheeks warm as she pulls away from his hand.

“Did I hurt you?” Emmrich asks, eyes wide as he pulls his hand away, laying the cloth over the edge of the tub. “I apologize, I didn’t notice any cuts there. Do you want me to take a look?”

“No, no…” Rook says with a huff, bringing a hand up to rub at the spot he had touched, trying to play off her overreaction. She can feel the flush in her skin. “I’m just sensitive there. I’ll get it.” Rook brushes her hair back, picking up the cloth and scrubbing at both of her ears, unable to make eye contact with Emmrich as she does so.

When she thinks she’s gotten herself all clean, she looks back at Emmrich. She notices that his cheeks have taken on a rosy hue. Rook clears her throat.

“Did I get everything?” She asks, turning her head from side to side. Emmrich seems to regain his bearings quickly. He nods.

“Yes, it looks like it.” He says. “And I apologize, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t aware that elven ears were so… sensitive, as you said.”

Rook snorts. “I guess that wouldn’t be in the textbooks, huh?” She says, teasing. “That information would be saved for more… raunchy works of literature.”

“Even so, it is fascinating. I shall keep it in mind.” Emmrich says, a playful spark in his green eyes. “Now, allow me to wash your hair, my dear. Scoot forward, if you will.”

Rook does as he asks, the ends of her hair touching the top of the water and sticking to her skin in inky strands. He scoops the water gently and lets it wet her fluffy hair. She wrinkles her nose as she sees the water turn red as it runs down her shoulders.

“...Okay, maybe I did get a little carried away today.” She says with a sigh, her shoulders slumping forward. In the stillness of Emmrich’s room, his gentle combing of his slender fingers through her wet hair, it’s hard for her to hold back the tide of emotion she felt about Weisshaupt.

It felt odd to even be alive. Breathing air that was borrowed from another. She had reassured Davrin earlier that it was not a sin to be alive, and she had meant it when she said it to him. But she was their leader, and she made sure to tidy her room before she had left.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asks, sensing her hesitance. His words are as gentle as his hands as he massages shampoo into her hair. It smells earthy, like moss and patchouli; it reminds her of the smell of the Memorial Gardens after the morning dew.

It’s comforting, familiar. Rook takes a breath, lungs aching in protest, but the feeling of his fingers scratching at her scalp dull that ache. She doesn’t remember ever being touched so gently.

“About… today?” She asks. Rook absentmindedly traces her fingers over the surface of the water, watching as it ripples through the tub. Where would she even start? “I don’t even know what to say. It was awful.”

Emmrich nods, letting the shampoo rest in her hair for a moment. “It was. So much loss of life, it’s almost hard to believe such a thing could happen on such a scale…” Emmrich puts a hand on her shoulder, brushing his thumb over her bruised collarbone. Unlike her own, his hands are soft. “But you did all that you could. Without you, Rook, without Davrin… I fear the cost may have been much higher. You mitigated the loss of life. You made Ghilan’nain mortal, that is a feat none but you can brag about.”

Rook turns her head, looking up into his eyes for anger or disappointment. Those emotions she could work with – sincerity she could not. It makes her tired eyes sting with emotion.

Rook nods, slowly, his words slowly seeping into her skin. She wonders if the heroes of the past ever felt so lost. Did the Hero of Ferelden wonder if she could’ve done more, fist clenched tightly in her lover’s tunic as both herself and the Archdemon breathed their last? Did the Champion of Kirkwall ever feel hopeless against the city that took and took and took ever more still from her? Did the Herald of Andraste ever regret not striking the head of the wolf that nipped at her heels?

Even the thought of lumping herself in with them makes her feel like she’s overestimated her importance. She feels any of her companions could easily replace her.

“We all did that, together.” Rook says, softly. She’s thankful when Emmrich starts to rinse out her hair; the bath water was starting to get cold.

“And yet you’re the only one with blight in your hair.” Emmrich replies, a small smile on his lips. He scoops another handful of water over her head, running his fingers through the tangles, gently brushing out any knots. “All of us came back alive. You told us earlier that you considered that a win, it’s time you believed that, too.”

“I… do believe it. If anything would’ve happened to you all–”

“You’re alive as well, Rook.” Emmrich says, pausing his ministrations to look her in the eye. Rook feels she can’t look away, not now. “And what a wonderful thing that is.”

“I…” Rook starts, but once again she’s left without any witty retort. “You truly believe so?”

Emmrich softens, his voice breathy. “Yes, of course I do, my dear.” He combs his fingers through her hair once more, just to touch her. “I am so grateful to have met you, even if it had to be under circumstances such as these.”

Rook laughs, genuine, rubbing at one of her eyes. Damn, she must be tired if she was letting herself get teary-eyed in front of him. “I’m sure we would’ve met anyways. Eventually.” She says, her smile sheepish as she leans back against the back of the tub. “Or maybe we have met before. The Mourn Watch isn’t that big of an organization.”

“I would’ve never forgotten anyone as wonderful as you.” Emmrich answers. “Now, before you catch a cold, let’s get you out of the bath. Do you need help standing?”

Rook shakes her head. Even as tired as she was, the thought of him helping her out of the bath was a mortifying one. “No, it’s alright. I’m not so helpless that I need to be carried back to my room.”

Emmrich laughs, his eyes crinkling as he does so. “I know that you are not helpless.” He says, firmly, playfully. “But you can lean on us from time to time. A burden shared is a burden halved, as they say. I know if I were injured you would do the same.”

“I wouldn’t let you get injured in the first place.” Rook mumbles in reply. Emmrich walks behind the dividing curtain that separates the wash tub from the rest of his room, allowing Rook privacy. Slowly, she stands, her vision blurring momentarily as her body adjusts to standing. The cool air of the room makes her shiver as she reaches for a towel to dry herself off with. “But I wouldn’t mind carrying you.”

Emmrich lets out an incredulous huff. “I’m almost a head taller than you. I don’t think that would end well for either of us.”

“I’m up for the challenge.” She teases back, throwing the wet towel over the side of the bath. Rook starts to dress herself, thankful that she brought her baggier clothes. She can’t imagine trying to wrestle her belts around her waist in this state. When she’s done, she reaches down and collects her dirtied armor; it feels heavier in her arms than it had any right being. “Alright, I’m all done. Think I’m gonna go to sleep for three days straight now.”

Rook runs a hand through her wet hair, pushing it out of her eyes. Emmrich turns to face her, a slight smile on his lips. “Ah, well then, I’ll not keep you any longer. Get some rest, my dear. And do let me know if you need me to look at those bruises.”

“Yeah…” She leans against the door frame, feeling like there’s something more she needs to say. Whatever it is, it’s lost in the recesses of her tired mind. “Thanks, Emmrich.”

“It’s no problem at all.” His gaze is gentle, and she turns her head away. Too much emotion for one night. “Sweet dreams, Rook.”

Rook lingers for a moment more, then she turns, leaving the warmth of his room for the stillness of her own. She collapses, boneless and exhausted, onto the chaise lounge in the middle of her room.

Tomorrow would come, and she would be alive to live it. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.

#emmrich volkarin #emmrich volkarin x rook #emmrook #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age #datv #fluff #hurt/comfort #fic #expect more of this <3

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blindvogel · 2 months ago

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I owe this epiphany and inspiration to @nin-dy-tro and to remembering The Flame Eternal, Emmrich's short story. So what if a coffin is not just a coffin?

~~~

There have been rumbling noises coming from Emmrich’s study for the past few days and while Kamari is curious she also finds herself barred from it by a very adamant Manfred. She doesn’t begrudge Emmrich his privacy or a secret but he’s been acting strange - nervous in a way she hasn’t seen him for a very long time if ever.

So she is relieved to finally be invited in one evening, fetched by Manfred who clatters off once he delivers her to the door. They are long since past the need to knock but she still gives the door two quick raps before entering. Tonight feels different, special.

The light in the room is dim, provided only by the flickering flames of the fireplace and a small handful of candles. Kamari’s eyes take a moment to adjust before she sees Emmrich standing by his desk, and only then notices the large shape in the middle of the room. A coffin.

“Ah. Good evening, my dear.” He takes a few steps towards her, then stops, his fingers twining over and over as if he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. In the dim light she can just make out that his smile is there but a little strained.

She drifts towards him, curious, confused, until her direct path is blocked by the coffin between them. “What is this about, Emmrich?” Her hand comes to rest on the edge of the open coffin, feeling the cool smooth marble against her fingertips.

He clears his throat and makes a sweeping gesture, not quite holding her gaze. “I wanted to show you this. What do you think?”

Kamari acquiesces and turns her attention from Emmrich to the coffin. Perhaps this way she can figure out what has put him in such a state. Her fingers continue their exploration along the open lid and find intricate carvings that she can’t fully appreciate in this light but they are hewn into the marble with great precision that could only have come from a fine workshop in the Necropolis. The stone itself is a pearly white, almost glowing in the firelight - and she understands now why he had dimmed any other source. The upholstery on the inside looks soft, and she doesn’t resist the urge for too long to run her palm over it.

A soft voice in her head whispers that perhaps to anyone else this would be macabre and strange but she has been born and raised in Nevarra, in the Necropolis, and a coffin like this…

Her eyes suddenly focus on the proportions, on the wider than normal width, the way the headboard curves just so. It’s meant for two.

Kamari’s mouth is suddenly dry, her heart beating so fast it could fly out of her chest. She swallows, then looks up to find Emmrich’s eyes fastened to her face, full of warmth and nervous anticipation.

“It’s beautiful, love,” she says, hearing her own voice crack.

(And Bellara’s, incredulous, in her ear - He proposed with a coffin?)

“So you think you could imagine resting in it one day- with me?” His voice is quiet, hoarse with emotion. She rounds the coffin then so she can reach out for him, take his face gently in both hands. “I would love nothing more.” If there are any other words, they remain unsaid as his arms wrap around her and pull her close, his mouth finds hers in a breathless kiss.

#dragon age the veilguard #blindvogel writes #emmrich x rook #emmrich volkarin #Kamari the Rook #the gilf agenda #he finally found his enduring affection #I am not normal about this at all

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petermorwood · 4 months ago

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A sundae for Sunday.

But this isn't ice-cream.

It's a carving (!) by Manfred Wild, using rock crystal and semi-precious stones, and I found it here when I was sourcing images for this post.

The website description is a single unbroken paragraph, so here's a more readable version.

The glass (is) formed from exceptionally high clarity rock crystal quartz with faceted citrine rondelles and 18 karat yellow gold banding. The various and colourful “flavours” of ice cream (are) carved from thulite for strawberry, beige jasper for mocha, aventurine quartz for mint, yellow calcite for orange, white quartz for vanilla and cappuccino jasper for chocolate. (All are) topped with a bright carnelian cherry, a wafer cookie of Kalahari jasper and white dolomite whipped cream. (This) generous portion (is) topped with a gold parasol accented in sections with translucent blue, green and purple enamel over guilloche.

Amaury Guichon should do one in sugar-glass and kinds of chocolate, if he hasn't already.

I'm also remembering the time, in Germany for a friend's wedding, we went into an Eiscafé in Speyer. We don't eat elaborate ice-cream very often, so when we do we like to catch up for lost time.

What we hadn't noticed was that the Kugel (scoop) measure in this café was rather larger than usual, so when our orders came out, they looked like - in fact were - these:

On the left, @dduane’s chocolate chip, mocha and double chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate sauce. On the right, my mint choc-chip, strawberry, salt-caramel, vanilla, mango and cream. We did splendid execution on both, but had dinner a couple of hours later than originally intended...

Neither was as long-lasting as the carved-crystal-and-minerals one, but the memory section of my Mind Palate confirms that they were infinitely more flavoursome.

Yum.

#food and drink #ice-cream sundae #semi-precious stones #stone carving #object of vertu #object of whimsy #lapidary art

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beetlethebug · 1 day ago

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thinking about davrin who starts keeping a little treat for rook in their pockets after the "who wants a treat" scene with assan and manfred. he refuses to allow rook to unionize against him again. imagining him going to lucnais and asking for something for rook is very funny to me. and imagine rook getting used to it, so every time they go out with davrin they hold their hand out, expecting a treat. and one day davrin panics and realizes he doesn't have one, so he puts a little wood carving he was working on in rook's hand. and rook, the little gremlin they are, starts gloating to manfred about it. so now manfred wants one, and davrin will never hear the end of it if he doesn't provide (emmrich is very good at the disappointed dad stare and the little sighs of disappointment)

davrin who gets used to this little gift exchange with rook. who loves seeing the way that their eyes light up when they see what he has. rook who gets a little bolder, patting them down in search of treats and trinkets that davrin is hiding on their person. rook who unsubtly shares their edible treats with assan and manfred, making davrin roll his eyes but endearing them to him anyway.

rook who starts giving gifts back the way a cat would. monster parts and other pieces from kills. little stone statues of wolves and wyverns and nugs. they come back to the lighthouse covered in dirt and leaves and a bag filled to the brim of gingerwort truffles. (rook says it's their dues for the union; assan and manfred nearly knock them over the second they realize what rook has).

just. davrin and rook and little treats.

#davrin #dragon age veilguard #dragon age davrin #dragon age rook

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kirkwall-tourism-department · 5 days ago

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Extra Reading

Some very short emmrook fluff, with hopefully more to come!

I feel like most people's emmrook dynamics fall into either student/professor or idiot/smart. I have a lot more fun with the latter.

The smell of incense drifted out of her new companion's hallway, a warm glow peeking out from beneath his door, a stark contrast to the otherworldly purple haze that hung in the Lighthouse's library. They had returned from their trip to the Necropolis earlier in the day, the professor and his skeletal assistant settling in quickly. Rook prepared herself for a conversation that had become routine at this point- introductions, explanations, questions. Every one had gone differently. Bellara had been beside herself, the history she had searched her entire life for coming back in a blighted, twisted form hitting her like a punch to the gut. Davrin, on the other hand, had responded to the news with the verbal equivalent of a shrug. Based on her limited interactions with the man when they had retrieved him from the Necropolis, Rook was preparing herself to field a deluge of questions she was wholly unequipped to answer. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door, and it flew open in response a few moments later, Manfred standing in the doorway, hissing happily.

“Come in!” The professor greeted her from the other side of the room, still filing the mountains of books he had brought into his new home. After organizing up the shelf he was working on to his standards, he turned to face her. When Bellara had suggested adding a master necromancer to the team, the image Rook had conjured in her head certainly wasn’t what stood in front of her now. Initially, she had pictured a dour, silent figure robed exclusively in black and with a permanent scowl carved into their face. Instead, they got a sharply dressed, uncomfortably polite man who always wore a whisper of a smile. “How may I help you, Rook?”

“Just wanted to see how you were settling in, talk to you about what’s going on.” Rook responded as she took in the room that had seemingly apparated when Emmrich entered the Lighthouse. Two stories tall, lined with oak bookcases and centered around a spiraling staircase. Rook was unsure if the stone autopsy table in front of her was something Emmrich brought from the Necropolis or if the Lighthouse was able to sense the needs of its inhabitants. Emmrich went to sit at his desk, and motioned for Rook to sit in the chair opposite him. Manfred moved up the staircase, taking a pile of books with him.

“You did begin to explain the situation at the Necropolis, but any further elucidation you could provide would be welcome.” He answered, his hands motioning throughout the sentence to add emphasis. The various bracelets and rings that banded his arms softly jingled as his hands moved, creating a gentle chorus that underscored his voice.

“Well,” Rook took a breath, preparing her speech. “The Elven gods are real. I disrupted the Dread Wolf’s ritual to tear down the Veil. The imprisoned elven gods escaped, and he got stuck in the Fade. Now the two that escaped are out there, blighted, and planning to conquer the world.” She had never had a way with words. The professor blinked at her, processing the information she had dumped onto his lap.

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“You have a surprising amount of levity, given the situation.”

“I don’t really see much benefit in being a pessimist.” Rook shrugged, unsure how to explain how her apparent optimism belied the ironic detachment she felt from the world around her. Forged in the nihilism of the alienage and honed by the Warden’s flippancy towards their own mortality, her separation from the world around her was an effective armor, even if it often left her envying those who walked though the world unprotected, but feeling.

A loud crash rang out above them.

“Manfred.” Emmrich’s eyes widened with concern and exasperation. “I apologize, but I must excuse myself for a moment. I need to make sure he’s okay.” She watched as the professor walked up the staircase, disappearing as it spiraled higher. After a few moments, the itch that appeared underneath her skin whenever she had to sit still for too long surfaced, prompting her to stand and pace the room. The bookcases that lined the room drew her to them, rows and rows of books of mismatched sizes organized as neatly as possible. Trailing her finger on the spines, she read the titles as they passed by. A History of Necromantic Tradition in the Storm Age. In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar. Metaphysical Fade Theory and Practical Applications. Her finger stopped on the massive tome when she noticed the name of the author listed beneath it. Professor Emmrich Volkarin.

Shit.

It was difficult to not feel intimidated by him. Despite his kind demeanor, she felt out of her depth when she spoke with him. More than once, he had used words she had never heard before and couldn’t guess the meaning of. She had only become literate a few years ago, and even then, it was by the most generous of definitions. Growing up in an alienage didn’t offer many educational opportunities, and after joining the Wardens, she had been taught the bare minimum necessary to finish her training. Despite her literacy struggles, she had always harbored a desire to learn more about the world around her, about the world outside the towering walls of the alienage. Originally, it was driven by spite and jealousy from her childhood- seeing the human children going to lessons in the Chantry, overhearing their conversations about what they had learned that day. Nonetheless, the desire had clung onto her into adulthood.

“Find something interesting?”

“Sorry, just getting distracted.” Rook snapped out of her thoughts, bringing herself back to the conversation at hand.

“You’re welcome to borrow anything that interests you.” he offered as he sat back down in his chair. Rook tried to stifle the laugh that came out of her. The thought that she would be able to understand any of the texts that surrounded them was completely absurd. The Professor raised a questioning eyebrow in response to her outburst.

“I appreciate the offer, I just…” she trailed off before finishing her explanation, a hot tide of shame beginning to wash over her. Did she really want to admit to him that she would struggle to read even the simplest book in his collection? Her borderline illiteracy usually wasn’t a point of embarrassment for her, given the wide array of other skills she had. Fighting darkspawn rarely challenged one’s academic abilities. In this setting, though, without a sword and shield to demonstrate her other competencies, the deficiencies she did have felt glaringly obvious. “I’m not much of a reader.”

“A pity.” Emmrich sighed, a slight air of disappointment gracing his dignified features. “Though, I often find those who don’t enjoy reading simply haven’t found the right book yet.” The slight waves of embarrassment that had been lapping at her feet began to rise, threatening to drown her. She had hoped her refusal would have been enough to drop the topic, and she wouldn’t have to make an ass of herself in front of

Then, Rook reminded herself of who she was. Why was she embarrassed? Who cared if she could barely read? She could kill hordes of darkspawn with her eyes closed- how many literate people could say that about themselves?

“When I say I’m not much of a reader,” Rook explained, “I mean I can’t read very well. So, despite how interesting I’m sure many of these books are, I wouldn’t get much from them.” Emmrich’s expression softened, but instead of the pity she was expecting, he seemed to be embarrassed himself. Suddenly, a light appeared in his eyes.

“Would you like someone to teach you?”

#dragon age #dragon age veilguard #emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #emmrook #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age the veilguard

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chikkv · 2 days ago

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After completing Dragon Age The Veilguard, I decided to make a top of my favorite characters of the entire DA series.

Dragon age origins:

Zevran. A skilled assassin from Antiva. But he wasn't much of a burglar)

Wynn. Well, what would I do without this miracle healer?

Alistair. There must be at least someone normal in the team.

Dragon age II:

Anders. This cat person got into my soul back in the DLC. Magicians and cats are a combo!

Merrill. You can't offend such cuties.

Fenris. A sullen, unsociable meanie who, if you get to know him better, turns out to be a "cinnamon bun"? We'll take you to the party!

Dragon Age: Inquisition:

Cassandra. This woman is like a stone wall. And he will stop the horse at a gallop, and enter the burning hut. My main tank is in the party.

Dorian. There are always magicians in my party! Always!

Iron Bull. Yes, I just did not dare to refuse him to join the campaign :D

Dragon Age The Veilguard:

Emmrich. A cheerful necromancer with sad eyes? I'm taking him along with Manfred! I think his storyline is the best in The Veilguard.

Luсanis. An obsessive coffee drinker? Well, I'm used to my companions being funny.

Harding. I liked this hardworking bee back in the Inquisition. I remember how much I wanted her to be a companion.

And the most important companion who accompanied me from DA2. A character thanks to whom we know the true story without embellishment) Varrick! This dwarf falls in love with himself from his first appearance. His charisma and Bianca hit right on the spot.

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exoticalmonde · 1 month ago

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The Evealia Guide Through Babel (event) - Part IV

Man, why do all of you have the most terrible names to remember? This is what actual witchcraft sounds like. Aefanyl. I'm going to scramble him like I'm scrambling these letters trying to make the name Logos out of this Scrabble.

Even more interesting is the aspect that she used magic to preserve the way she looks, so she can be eternal in his memory. It's kind of sweet, kind of... sad. Very sad if you think about how it seems like she doesn't have a long time left. I wonder if I can find anything else about her--

O, lady,

THIS MAKES SO MUCH SENSE NOW, LOOK AT THIS

SHE IS ONE OF THE SIX HEROES????

That makes... Her, Theresis, Theresa, Kal'tsit....? Two more are missing. It might be obvious but I genuinely forgot right now. I'm sure when Dr. Pinkie sees this she's going to beat me over the head since we spoke about this.

Anyways,

Ascalon is fighting with Theresis this time. It's a bittersweet goodbye too.

Theresis is still respected by Ascalon, so it's a struggle for her to face him truly. He's also giving her some fair pointers as a last goodbye.

[You still don't know what you seek, do you? To protect? That's just empty self-deceptive sentimentality. When you're unsure of your path, you merely project your motivations onto vague ideals.] <I really like this quote. Can you tell?

[I-I've thought about it carefully.]

[Perhaps. Then follow Theresa and protect her, but don't blindly adopt her ways. Think for yourself. Manfred found his answer long before you did.]

Then, Ascalon falls to one knee and turns to a mist that closes around Theresis. When it disperses, he's left with a stone knife in his hand.

As terrifying as that conversation was, nothing could prepare me for the one Theresa and Theresis had - basically agreeing that if any of them comes in the way of the other, they will have to be killed.

The Babel procession stretches far as the eye could see, past the disdainful crowd. Theresis walks towards the crowd and stand with them. He has left Theresa's side for the first time in two centuries.

They say their goodbyes.

Then something occurs, enough the silence the restless onlookers and momentarily halt the procession.

[A mercenary steps out of the line to embrace his best friend in the procession. No one can hear the whispers exchanged between the two friends by the ruins of Babel, but all are willing to wait and give them their moment of farewell.]

[A farewell between the people and their city, and between two peoples of the same blood.]

With them, Odda also part ways. With his family. His home.

For Theresa's eyes only, there's a letter. A functional ship has been excavated from Rim Billington. On it, she found something that could change the tide of history.

Given its importance, Kal'tsit has a lot of faith in its utility for their plan.

---

BB-ST-2

Awakening in Exhaustion

[Things have not gone according to plan.]

PRIESTESS???

Can I be honest? I'm going to be honest.

I don't really like Priestess. I think yesterday Dr. Kryo asked what we all think about her and my immediate response is 'I hope she died'. Which, I think if somebody (not me) has read Vigilo they might confirm what happened with her.

If anything, I think I'm going to go and have a little dip in Vigilo since it's one of those episodic stories and I checked out the Wiki long enough to figure out which episodes will be important to understand.

But overall, yeah, I don't like her and I've been struggling to understand the Doctor for long enough to know that I probably never will agree with their ideas. As Priestess says, us lower-intelligence lifeforms can't even hope to understand their greater plans.

And speaking of plans, we should move on with the Babel story.

Four Years Ago...

Summer, 1090

We're opening with Closure and Scout, how wonderful. Hm... Interesting, why do I have this nagging feeling that there's something inherently sad about the situation?

Ah.

Well, they are on a mission. Closure imparts with us the detail that she and Kal'tsit have secured the ship and have been working on dealing with the defence system for a specific package that is on board.

Snapping to Kal and Theresa, they're talking about a specialist in Originium, the only person who can help with their task. They stand before a set of doors that have not been opened for a long time, reminiscing in the fact that Kal'tsit, no matter how careful she is, still cannot predict all the contingencies.

But they open it anyway.

And this light, we're familiar with. There was once an event, where we witnessed this same feeling, the same occurrence and that same red light shining down on Kal'tsit. Though, this is a couple of years prior.

In Lone Trail.

[Search: Preserver... No signal.] [Search: Caerula Arbor... No signal.] [Search: Celestial Fulcrum... No signal.] [Search: (Unknown static noise)... No signal.] [.......] [Search complete. No signal detected on any channel.] All these spots we are familiar with and for me it was bone-chilling to see them. Preserver is a reference to the Preserver Project, which was created by the "First Civilization" at some point after the "disaster from above" that resulted in the Civilization's near-total annihilation. They are meant to act as overseers of the Sarcophagi where the Civilization's survivors are kept in stasis until they can be awakened when the situation stabilizes in the distant future so they can restore their civilization. [Image above]

Caerula Arbor is our current IS4. Known also as the "Creeping Branch" is a dying tree-like Leviathan representing the power of "Growth" who had lost His struggle in controlling the kin, causing Him to fall from grace from the Many. His roots grow towards the core of Terra and feed on the energy of the magma beneath the surface, and is said to have the potential to consume the entire planet if allowed to grow unchecked, but currently, the Arbor is acting as a mere food source that nourishes microscopic Seaborn cells in the ocean.

Celestial Fulcrum is uh...

And actually, we know a little bit more about the unrecognisable static, because we have already seen it part of a concept trailer. We were actually JUST shown this, so I did such a good job strategically stalling just so I can put this in the script.

youtube

Voila, if you have not seen it yet.

This is very kindly provided by the Wiki.

[Last update: Four million, seven hundred fifty-five thousand, nine hundred and fifty-four days ago.]

Me thinks it's around 13K years and that's quite a bit since the last update.

So the Doctor was woken up rather early, with Originium still abound. Interesting part is, they're surprised about the way it has managed to survive/has evolved - through the Sarkaz and Oripathy.

Oh no this is so endearing....

It's so endearing and sad at the same time. Doctor learning about Theresa, holding her warm hands. She was so excited to learn the language of the past from Kal'tsit, but instead Doctor hits her with 'my world is lost'.

For those like me who missed it entirely SOMEHOW, Civilight Eterna is the Crown of the Sarkaz, although I'm not sure how Doctor recognises it when he was not present during it's... release(?) and whether he understands the significance of it differently to what I know.

She's showing the Doctor different parts of their... life, I suppose.

This quote stuck out to me a lot:

Before I'm immediately on my knees because of the mentioning of a pioneer chasing the stars is pushing forward with his fallen ally on his back.

This is UNFAIR,

THEY'RE BEING MENTIONED AGAIN.

After witnessing the way Terra is right now, the Doctor seems to take it in rather well. In their view, it's all moving in the right direction, a mix of ignorance and progress that feels nostalgic and beautiful. Within Theresa, the Doctor spots somebody who loves Terra, not just a single nation. Her ideals are pure, but ultimately, way too different. She might be loathed for that, because her people aren't ready for this kind of step.

Thus the Doctor is willing to cooperate and help by first exploring the land itself to learn about the way Originium has influenced life, culture and the environment.

Ascalon is being sent after them both for protection and with a secret little task from Theresa - to explore the things other nations have, because the Sarkaz don't have the luxury to choose.

#arknights #arknights event #doctor arknights #arknights sarkaz #arknights babel #babel event #arknights theresa #arknights ascalon #arknights commentary #Eve cried again #arknights lore #arknights story #arknights doctors #friendship #part 4 #doctor of ri shenanigans #arknights banshees #Youtube

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inthebeginning-rebellion · 6 days ago

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Anyway my google docs are a mess right now but this I liked and this I will share.

Fade Birth

feat. she/her Rook and a romanced Emmrich.

-=-=-

He’d lived so much longer than he anticipated.

Fifty-two had seemed ancient, the decade and change gap between himself and Rook a yawning, gaping chasm of guilt and fear. By sixty-two, the fear had waned, and the grey speckling Rook’s hair and the way she complained about her knees bridged the gap most humorously. Seventy-two had come along compliantly enough, and had been spent consoling his beloved at her finally having to hang up the massive warhammer she simply could not swing the way she once could. Sword and shield, she groused, did not have the same ‘oomph’. The cane came around eighty-two, and he found he did not mind it so much as he may have once feared, especially when Rook gifted him an elegant bone and bronze one, carved with flowers and a skull atop the handle.

‘You look very distinguished. And you can hit people with it.’

He was still giving lectures and traveling back and forth from the Lighthouse and the Necropolis at ninety-two, his bibliography tripled from now almost forty years of partly residing in the Fade. Many conversations with spirits, the dead, and study of the Fade itself had left him with a variety of theories on longevity as a cause, and he began to wonder when, precisely, he would pass. He was still sharp of mind and wit, if more tired and inclined to sit than he had once been. He could not do nearly half the things he had once done while traveling with their companions on a quest to stop the gods, but his plants flourished and his career was storied. Manfred had begun attending his own adventures- never quite the linguist, he had become remarkably adept at magic in a way no wisp he had ever heard of had. He was a being of great depths, read voraciously, and had assisted in his own world-saving venture some decades ago that left Emmrich and Rook speechless and stunned. A wisp of curiosity, a man grown.

Each night, he had a cup of tea and Rook’s hand in his while they watched the mysterious depths of the Fade pass them by at the Lighthouse.

Glorious tranquility, eternity laid out before him.

At one-hundred and two, as per his request, Rook entombed him in the center of his study at the Lighthouse. A carved stone garden and gilded placard, his skull resting on a pedestal in the shape of an open book. He’d long wondered where he should put himself, if he should be put to rest with his parents, but as Rook had once said to him… Stories were about change. And so he was interred at home, where students could seek him out if they so wished.

She was struggling in her own advanced age, decades of hard combat and abuse to the body. Still, she often took his skull in her arms and climbed the staircase to sit on the balcony with him, to watch the Fade as he’d so loved to do. She talked to him, sat with him and conversed with Manfred.

He could not say, but he heard it all. Some spark of the man beating within the bones. Sometimes Manfred looked at him so intently that he thought for certain there must still be something there. Interesting, to have that thought. Obviously, there must be a remnant that Manfred could see, since that remnant could think enough that it might be there.

And so there was.

Rook died not too long after he did, a year or so later, sitting on the balcony with his bones and two cold cups of tea, one half sipped.

Quite suddenly, as the love fractured within that beating spark, he was standing there with his own skull. He felt old and young all at once, lines of life and death stretching out in eddies and waves out the window and all around him.

Not without her. Never without her.

Emmrich reached down and grasped her hand, and he pulled the way he had pulled decades ago to pull her from the Fade prison. Whatever energy he had grown here latched onto the dying embers of her own and empowered them, infused them, blew them into a roaring inferno as he dragged Rook out of her corpse and into his arms.

Glorious, to swing her around once again. Laughter bubbled into weeping into euphoria.

They stood before their own remains, luminous and starry-eyed.

“Emmrich…?”

“Darling.”

“Where… how are we-?”

“Oh my dearest, let’s not think too hard on it.”

She glittered with laughter, lines smoothed away by whatever soul tether the Fade had seen fit to gift them. He wondered if he looked younger than when they had met, or if, perhaps, they were seeing each other the way they held each other in their minds. In their souls? Perhaps the Fade, living here, had simply allowed them to imprint onto their remains in a method that went beyond what transpired at the Necropolis. This was not demonic and it was not a haunting, it was light and simplicity.

“Well… we can think on it later. I admit I have theories.”

“Oh my love, of course you do.”

From below there was a rattling scramble, boots on wood, and the guttural rasping cry of Manfred.

"Knew it!! Saw you!! Missed you!"

#in which emmrich learns that just living can give you all the immortality you could ever want #and i ruminate on what living for an extended period in the fade might do to a mortal soul #emmrook #emmrich volkarin #manfred #cw: character death #but it's like #it's not sad #datv #thedasmaxxing

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selunesdreams · 5 days ago

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Chapter 6: Dead Crow Do Not Eat

“Take me with you. I need to work, Rook.” He caught her by the arm. “We have a contract. Use me.” “Trust me, you wouldn’t want to know what happens to people when I use them.” She moved closer, trailing a finger up his arm. He stepped backwards, releasing his hold on her with a groan. “Teia is a bad influence on you. You were never this much of a flirt before. I can’t even have a conversation with you.” “I’ve barely seen Teia in the last year.” Rook placed her hands on her hips. “Did Viago send you to nag at me in his place?” “No. You’re just…not the Fiammetta I remember.” He said and glanced to the side. Rook arched an eyebrow. “You used my name.” “You asked me to.” Her gaze lingered before shifting to the schools of fish in the meditation chamber’s window. “Neve and I are going to Dock Town to meet with the Threads. You can join us.” Her arms fell to her sides. “We leave in ten.” She leaned in to murmur in his ear as she walked by. “And don’t pretend the change isn’t working in your favor.”

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: Rook has a busy week, a run-in with an old hookup, and a really, really bad dream.

Word Count: 4.1k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! warnings: blood, graphic depictions of bodily mutilation/murder, dead animals. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Neve’s demeanor softened as the days went on. Unsure if it was duty or guilt driving her, Rook dedicated much of her time to helping out in Dock Town, which incidentally provided a good excuse to avoid Lucanis. Even better, when a letter from Viago arrived requesting assistance in Treviso on several matters, she sent the Demon of Vyrantium in her stead. He could live up to her cousin’s standards.

Soon, Rook found herself in high demand. Davrin’s invitation for her to train in the Arlathan Forest with him and Assan turned into a much needed reprieve. Later, she accompanied Harding and Taash into the Deep Roads to seek out a better understanding of Lace’s newfound power. Unfortunately, they ended up fighting an animated assembly of rocks and getting vague riddles from an ancient stone.

Wardens Evka and Antoine summoned Rook to inform her of new blight-related developments in the Hossberg Wetlands, but the First Warden cut her visit short. Upon returning to the Lighthouse, Emmrich requested she and Bellara’s company investigating the curiously named “Hand of Glory”, only to find an old colleague abusing the living and the dead. Dejected, he spent the next several days in his chambers, but Rook was able to cheer him up by accompanying him and Manfred on a graveyard stroll. It seemed to, for lack of a better term, lift his spirits.

Exhausted from her endeavors, Rook returned to the meditation chamber, propping her staff against the wall and depositing her bag next to the wardrobe.

“Don’t tell me you’ve spent so much time away from the Crows that you’ve forgotten to check a room when you enter it, Rook.”

Startled, she looked down to find Lucanis sprawled across the chaise, his arm propped behind his head. He shifted into a sitting position, leaning forward.

“Viago would have a fit if he knew you were taking necromancy lessons.”

“We lit candles and laid flowers on graves, Lucanis.” She rummaged through her pack, setting aside a few parcels. Gifts for Davrin and Neve.

“Did you tire of the pantry? Certainly the Lighthouse could conjure you a new dwelling place outside of my chambers.”

He rose to his feet, following her as she wandered around the room.

“I was checking for those choke points you mentioned.”

Rook’s hand hovered over Varric’s shaving mirror just as she spotted Lucanis’ reflection. He stood behind her, leaning against a bookcase, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

Fuck. He was getting good at this. Whatever this was.

“Are we done? I have to be somewhere soon.”

“Take me with you. I need to work, Rook.” He caught her by the arm. “We have a contract. Use me.”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to know what happens to people when I use them.” She moved closer, trailing a finger up his arm.

He stepped backwards, releasing his hold on her with a groan. “Teia is a bad influence on you. You were never this much of a flirt before. I can’t even have a conversation with you.”

“I’ve barely seen Teia in the last year.” Rook placed her hands on her hips. “Did Viago send you to nag at me in his place?”

“No. You’re just…not the Fiammetta I remember.” He said and glanced to the side.

Rook arched an eyebrow. “You used my name.”

“You asked me to.”

Her gaze lingered before shifting to the schools of fish in the meditation chamber’s window.

“Neve and I are going to Dock Town to meet with the Threads. You can join us.” Her arms fell to her sides. “We leave in ten.”

She leaned in to murmur in his ear as she walked by.

“And don’t pretend the change isn’t working in your favor.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Lucanis had always said death was his calling. He just didn’t know Rook would be the cause.

She was playing with him. He knew she was. What he couldn’t figure out was whether it was a game, a defense mechanism, or a way to get him to lower his guard.

He’d never been intimidated by strong women. After all, the Crows wouldn’t function without them.

“Well-positioned seeds, planted subtly and nurtured over time, grow stronger roots,” Caterina had always said. Few men among their ranks, except Viago, had the patience for that level of foresight or strategy.

But romancing strong women…that was a different story. Rather than serious relationships, Lucanis had fumbled through a few short-term romances and casual encounters in his early twenties. He wasn’t like Illario, who could have a different woman in his bed each night. Better to give up on intimacy altogether. Feelings were risky and falling in love got people killed. Being alone was easier when he could find pleasure in little things - coffee, cooking…killing. If he didn’t keep anyone close, it was one less person to worry about, one less distraction from his work.

He settled down beside Rook in their booth at the Cobbled Swan, wincing as he drank coffee that might as well have been brewed in piss.

“So…the Threads and the Shadow Dragons working together.” She said, “how do we feel about that?”

“It’s what’s best for Dock Town.” Neve replied, “I saved their leader, Damas, last week. They have just as much motivation to take out the Venatori as we do - and they owe me one.”

Rook tensed beside him and Lucanis looked up, following her gaze towards a tall, fair-haired man, likely in his mid-30s, walking in. Well dressed, he walked with an air that made it clear he considered himself important. Accompanying him was a younger, shorter man with enough resemblance to Illario that Lucanis stiffened in surprise.

“Shit.” Rook whispered, her eyes glued to them as they approached.

“Trouble?” Neve asked.

“Well…”

“Dock Town’s protectors, at your service,” the tall one confidently eased himself into his seat across from them. “What can the Threads do for…” He paused, brow furrowing as he gave Rook a once over.

“What are you doing here?”

“SMELLS LIKE SMOKEPOWDER AND AROUSAL-”

Arms crossed over his chest, Lucanis grimaced and turned his head to the side, trying to keep Spite in check.

“Makal Damas? You said you were a Shadow Dragon.” Rook said, “Not the leader of the Threads.”

“And you said you were an Antivan Crow. I thought we were having a little fun lying.”

“She is a Crow.” Neve said dryly.

“ You’re the Rook everyone’s making such a fuss about?” Damas asked, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

“Anyone care to explain what’s going on?” Neve asked.

“Rook and I have a little history, that’s all.” He took a swig from his stein. “Well, at least we can skip half the introductions. This is Elek Tavor, my second in command.”

Elek looked up from tracing the rim of his drink and nodded.

“And you’re the infamous mage-killer?” Damas asked Lucanis.

“Something like that.” he leaned over Rook to trade his coffee for a bottle of wine at the end of the table.

“I’ve got names of missing people, including those hardly anyone noticed yet,” Elek interjected, eager to change the topic. “All yours. No catch.”

“No catch? Now that’s friendship.” Neve said.

“Consider it a personal favor, if you want,” Damas purred.

“The Venatori are getting too confident.” Elek continued, “We’ll increase our odds of getting them out of our streets if we work together.”

“You seem tough enough on your own,” Lucanis said. “Why do you need us?”

“I get my knuckles bloody from time to time. But if you haven’t noticed, there’s a lot going on. Those blood mages walked into this bar and abducted me .” Damas stuck his finger into his chest. “I’d like to correct that. The Threads are better neighbors than the Venatori, don’t you think?”

“They are,” Neve chimed in. “Let’s speak candidly, then. Aelia’s a pain for both of us. I want her dead.”

“Okay. Then we both hunt for Aelia.” Damas said. “You find her, you kill her. We find her? We’ll do the same. Dock Town is ours .” He leaned forward in his seat, lowering his voice. “But I’m open to sharing, Rook. Bear that in mind.”

“So generous. I’ll remember that when I put all this on your tab.”

“I knew I liked you.” Damas rose from his chair. “We’ll keep you posted.” He said to Neve and left for the door with Elek.

Neve’s head snapped towards Rook once they were out of sight. “When did you sleep with the head of the Threads? ”

“Give me a break. It was like a year ago and if I had any idea who he was - or how bad it would be -“

“ YOU COULD SHOW HER SOMETHING BETTER, LUCANIS.”

Lucanis choked on his wine, quickly clearing his throat to cover it up, and stood abruptly from the table.

“I’m going back to the Lighthouse. Next time you bring me along, make sure there’s something for me to kill.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

As she ascended the steps to her chamber, all Rook wanted was a nap. When Davrin came running after her, she knew it wasn’t happening.

“Rook,” Davrin panted, bending over to catch his breath, “the First Warden is summoning everyone back to Weisshaupt. Word of darkspawn hordes on the move, and an archdemon with them.”

“Fuck,” her hand instinctively reaching up to rub her tired eyes. “How much time do we have?”

“A day, a week? We’re going in blind, though. We need to know what we’re up against.”

The possibility of sleep now seemed distant and trivial, as guilt gnawed at her conscience. Was she so selfish that she could think about sleeping at a time like this?

“I’ll talk to Solas. Make sure the others are ready to move.”

No longer eager to return to her quarters, she begrudgingly shoved the doors open. Conversations with the Dread Wolf were rarely enjoyable.

With a lazy flick of her wrist, ignited a row of candles on the ancient altar in front of the window and knelt before them. Eyes closed, she drew focus, her consciousness wandering from her body, searching the Fade for Solas’ prison.

“How fares your battle?”

She opened her eyes with a start. The sight before her was bleak and colorless, a barren expanse stretching into infinity.

“The gods are moving against Weisshaupt and the Grey Wardens. I have little time. There are rumors of an archdemon involved. I need to know how to deal with them.”

Solas clasped his hands behind his back and paced, as if searching the ground beneath his feet for answers. “How are the Grey Wardens? Do they understand the danger they’re in yet?”

“Some. The First Warden is completely in denial, though. That…complicates things.”

Solas halted, his gaze piercing through her, his demeanor growing more serious. “To defeat Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, you must unite the Wardens under your banner. How will you bring them to your side?”

“Seems I need to get around the First. Easy. Make him lose credibility. Classic political destabilization.”

“Spoken like an Antivan Crow.” Solas’ voice carried a hint of ambiguity that made it difficult for Rook to decipher whether he was praising or criticizing her.

“There never were Tevinter gods. The archdemons, as you call them, are weapons of the Evanuris. To harm them, you must first defeat their life force - the dragon thralls. And even with their dragons dead, they’ll be difficult to defeat.”

As Rook absorbed Solas’ revelations, her heart raced, its pounding echoing in her ears. “So what do I do?”

“Use my dagger. The one you recovered. It can pierce their enchantments and strike them down.”

“Got it,” Rook said, turning on her heel, eager to leave.

“You’re going in too fast! Take a moment. Remember what is at risk!”

She whirled around.

“I know exactly what is at risk!” she pointed at her chest. “That dragon could have leveled my city! Killed my family!”

“Yes. Good. Hold on to that. Remember the loss you have already survived. You will endure more, but your motivation to prevent it at any cost will keep you on the right path.”

Rook scoffed. “You’re sick.”

“And you’re tired. Perhaps you need some rest. A moment to remember…”

As Solas faded away, the meditation room came back into view. Rook let out a long sigh and laid her head on the seat of the chaise. What the fuck was the Dread Wolf even talking about? Always lessons in everything. He was just as bad as Varric, as her father…

Exhaustion overwhelmed her, making her eyelids heavy and her limbs weak, a weariness that seeped into her very bones. A planned moment of focused breathing, meant to center herself, stretched into minutes, then…

Nothing.

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Fiamma woke to a noise coming from the den and jolted upright in bed. She and her father’s small apartment carried sound through every wall, and she was certain if she’d noticed it, he was already investigating.

When little flames are scared, they should be neither seen nor heard.

With caution, she slipped her hand between her mattress and the bed frame, retrieving the encircled blade she’d gotten for her 17th birthday from Viago just days ago. She crept towards the door, carefully opening it a crack, and peered through the darkness, her eyes straining to see.

“I’ll give you a chance to leave my home, without consequence, but you must go now .” Her father growled from the kitchen. Fiamma peered around the corner, discovering him with his blade drawn, defensively poised and ready for a fight. She knew if she weren’t here, he’d have already engaged.

He was buying her time.

The intruder was facing away from her, and in the dim light filtering from the windows, she could see the glint of her father’s eyes as they met hers.

“You’re a Crow, no? Did someone put a contract on me? Surely my nephew, Viago, doesn’t think I’m a threat to him becoming Talon…”

Still buying time, but also providing thinly veiled directions. Fiamma read between the lines.

Get out. Get help. Get Viago.

She nodded in the dark and retreated to her room. The instant she shut her door behind her, she heard pots and pans flying, kitchen cabinets being thrown open, blows exchanged. Her movements were controlled and calm as she slipped a cloak over her nightgown and pulled on her boots. Unlatching her window, she crawled on top of her dresser and outside to the roof.

This wasn’t their first break-in, or assassination attempt. Her father would be fine. She was simply leaving to give him peace of mind and fetch a cleanup crew.

She navigated the rooftops to Viago’s, a short, five-minute walk, and jumped several feet over a gap in houses, aiming for his balcony. Missing just by inches, she caught herself on the railing, clinging to the rungs. She hoisted herself up, feeling the strain in her muscles as she flopped down onto the balcony stomach-first.

As she got up and brushed herself off, she caught sight of her cousin approaching, knife in hand, lowering it when he spotted her. With him was Illario Dellamorte, who he’d adopted as some sort of mentee. The boys always seemed to stick together. It was fine. She had Teia and her father. She’d kick their asses someday.

Viago had taken contracts as soon as Caterina had allowed him to, and it wasn’t long before he’d amassed a small fortune for himself. He was a talented assassin. Incredible with poisons, not too bad with a blade either. Aunt Viama had married a few years back and settled down just outside of Treviso, so he’d purchased this apartment for himself as a reward for his efforts, deciding it was time for him to branch out on his own.

“I’ve told you Fiamma.” Viago said through the glass, unlocking several deadbolts. “Use the front door.”

“The streets might not be safe. Someone broke into our house.” She said, as if reciting something she’d memorized. Everything felt slow, disjointed.

“What?” Illario blurted.

“It was a Crow. My father’s holding him off in the kitchen. He’ll probably have handled it by the time we get back, but there could be others…”

“Right. Let’s go,” Viago said, leaping over his balcony railing to the neighboring roof with ease. Fiamma followed, successfully making the jump this time, with Illario trailing close behind.

“Taking a contract on the Flame of Treviso. Fools.” He mumbled. “I’d like to know what idiot would even put one out.”

“If it’s really a contract, it’s not sanctioned by Caterina or any of the Talons, to my knowledge.” Viago said, “Your father isn’t interested in Talon, so it can’t be anyone fearing competition..”

As they reached the apartment, Fiamma nudged her window pane and slid her curtains aside. Before she could step through, Viago held his hand out, entering first. Illario ducked in after him, holding out his hand to Fiamma. His arms were warm, a reassuring sense of security as he guided her down from atop the dresser.

The house was silent, still dark. A knot wound itself tightly in Fiamma’s stomach.

Something was wrong.

Viago motioned for them to stay back, slowly opening her bedroom door and creeping into the hall. The floorboards creaked slightly beneath his weight, likely intentionally on his part, as he tried to draw out the intruder. Illario’s arm snaked tightly around Fiamma’s waist, his shortsword drawn as they followed, shattered glass and splintered wood crunching beneath their boots.

The kitchen was a disaster, but noticeably empty. It wasn’t until Fiamma turned around to face the den that she stepped in something wet. Her breathing became shallow as she waved her hand to ignite a candle, but her nerves made her magic unstable, lighting every source of light in the apartment.

The three of them squinted, eyes adjusting to the overwhelming brightness, before Fiamma’s legs gave way beneath her. Illario clung tightly to her as she fell to the floor with a single, devastated sob, burying her face in his shoulder.

Dante De Riva’s lifeless body was slumped against the fireplace, a dead crow stuffed where his head should have been. His body was drenched in blood, the wedding band still on his left hand gleaming in the light through streaks of crimson.

This wasn’t a clean job, wasn’t just a contract. It was a butchering.

Viago crouched beside the body, elbows on his knees, and lowered his head.

“Get her out of here, Illario.” He said, his tone void of emotion as he looked around for clues. This was future Talon, Viago. Not a grieving nephew. “Send Caterina and Lucanis back. Take major streets, stay out of the shadows.”

Illario nodded, his grip on Fiamma tightening as he lifted her off the floor. Her chest heaved, throat constricting as her gaze fell upon her father’s desecrated corpse again, and he hoisted her into his arms, carrying her out the front door.

“Walk Fiammetta. You have to.”

She shook her head sadly as he set her down outside, tears streaming down her face.

“I promise you, there will be time to grieve later, but now we have to go .” He cupped her face in his hands. “If you think you’re safe out here, weeping in the street, you’re wrong. ”

She sniffed and nodded, and he ran his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away her tears.

“No one will hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

He took her by the hand and led her through the streets to Caterina’s villa, stopping to glance around corners, fingertips never leaving the hilt of his sword.

The doors of Villa Dellamorte crashed open, making the windows tremble in their frames. Illario let them rattle shut behind him as he guided Fiamma to the couch in the sitting room.

“Mierda, Illario, did you really have to do that?”

His cousin Lucanis appeared in the doorway and paused, his forehead wrinkling as he drew nearer.

“ De Riva? What’s going on?”

Illario looked over his shoulder, exchanging silent words with his cousin. Lucanis looked down at Fiamma, her hands woven through her hair, as she hung her head low, staring at the flames rising in the hearth across from her.

“No…”

“Parents always die, right?” Fiamma asked, raising her head to stare intently at Lucanis. His face twisted in a grimace of guilt and agony, his lips parting slightly.

“And someone always pays.” Illario reassured her through clenched teeth.

“Who is slamming doors in my house!” Caterina shouted as she rounded the corner, her cane knocking against the wood. Her gaze fell upon Fiamma for several seconds, and she glanced between her grandsons in horror.

“Dante?” she breathed. They both nodded solemnly in confirmation.

“How can this be?” Caterina demanded. “Where is Viago?”

“With the body.” Illario said quietly.

Caterina frowned. “Lucanis, go. Stop by the Cantori’s on the way and send Arandrateia here.” She said, “I will meet you at the De Riva’s.”

He departed swiftly, without question.

The First Talon’s obedient little dog.

“Illario, get Fiammetta a change of clothes from the spare room. Mierda…”

Fiamma looked down at herself, finding the lower half of her nightgown drenched in her father’s blood. Following a trail of crimson footsteps, she realized she’d tracked blood across Caterina’s white marble floors.

“These moments define Crows, Fiammetta.” Caterina said. “I have buried my own parents, my children, all but two of my grandchildren. None of them died natural deaths. It does not get easier, but you endure. Or you let it get you killed, too.”

She leaned forward on her cane. The handle featured an intricately carved crow’s head, and Fiamma’s stomach roiled.

“Honor your father in death by not forfeiting your life. Grieve, and then let that fury guide you to survive.”

Caterina rose, placing a hand on Fiamma’s shoulder. “This deed will not go unpunished. The Dellamortes and the De Rivas are strong houses. Us Crows honor our own.” She said, her cane scraping across the floor as she departed.

Bullshit, Fiamma thought to herself, the Crows will slit one another’s throats for a shred of power.

When Illario returned, Fiamma couldn’t find the energy to change into the clean clothes he brought her. She sank to the floor, kneeling on the bearskin rug in front of the fire, wrapping her cloak tightly around her.

Illario set the neatly folded stack of clothes on the couch and joined her. Fiamma turned to her side and rested her head on his lap, staring into the hearth. His fingers hovered for a moment, surprised, before he stroked her hair.

“I will avenge your father’s death, Fiammetta. I swear on my life.”

She didn’t respond. Numbed, she transitioned into a state somewhere between dreaming and disassociation. She didn’t hear the door in the foyer creak open, or the shuffling of feet behind them. Only felt Teia reaching for her hands, squeezing them tightly in her own, caused her to stir from her oblivion.

“Fi…”

Face crumpled in dismay, Teia laid down beside her, and the three clung to one another until sunrise, when Viago and Lucanis returned home, looking nearly as haunted as Fiamma felt.

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“Rook? Hey! Rook.”

Davrin banged on her chamber door with his fist again, and her eyes snapped open. Disoriented, she braced herself on the chaise and pushed herself up.

“Coming!”

She blinked rapidly, trying to dismiss the memories and emotions threatening to resurface, and grabbed her things.

“About damn time.” He grumbled as she joined him in the hall.

“How long was I out?” Rook asked, hurrying down the stairs after him.

“I don’t know, but things at Weisshaupt are getting worse. It’s time to go. Hopefully, your Dread Wolf friend had some insight.”

“He’s not my friend. We don’t get tea in his little prison and exchange pleasantries.”

“What do you exchange, then?”

“Information. Verbal jabs, mostly.”

When they arrived in the hall, everyone else was waiting for her command.

“There’s an Eluvian in storage in the vault. It was a gift from the Dalish.” Davrin said.

“Ours should go right to it…probably.” Bellara added.

Rook caught sight of the Crow head buttons sewn into Lucanis’ vest and hesitated, overcome with a desire to pluck each one loose and cast them into the nothingness of the Fade. He took notice of her lingering gaze and furrowed his brow, tilting his head. With a deep breath, she steeled herself and shifted her attention.

“So we sneak into Weisshaupt, nice and quiet, then find Antoine and Evka.”

“Was…there a plan after that?” Neve asked.

“I’m not giving a speech.” Rook muttered, “Let’s go kill a fucking god.”

A/N: Okay well now that you've met Fi's dad...sorry! Lots of building this chapter, next one moves a bit more quickly. Next stop: Weisshaupt, Spite, and brooding. Thanks for the support! It really keeps my head on and me motivated. I appreciate you all soooo much. x

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