#more bellara love please

[noblemalone]

idk why but ig i have veilguard on the brain... mostly just rewarming myself to CSP and the tablet...

2 reblogs and i'll draw emmrich with his knockers out

[transmasc-tabris]

Thank fuck for storyteller difficulty

[vigilskeep]

Help, I'm trying to figure out how the fuck rook can get lucanis away from the crows (and caterina) post-canon!

we simply continue to keep him working with us. can’t hang out with the crows, he’s too busy, very important contracts! teia, you can handle the first talon housekeeping, right? it’s so sad how caterina’s letters keep getting lost. the crossroads postal service is hazardous like that idk

we drastic intervention illario into a decent replacement if we have to get him possessed to do it

we engineer a rom-com scenario where lucanis has to abandon it all at the last moment in order to rush after his beloved in an airport or like at a gondola dock or whatever the treviso equivalent is of that trope

we drag zevran from wherever he’s been hanging out and sic him on the rest of the crows but ask him very nicely to please spare the ones we like

we have bellara use big sad eyes while pointing out what the contents of the veilguard fridge are going to look like if he lets anybody else do the grocery shopping around here

we strategically place self-help books near the pantry disguised as romance novels

we bankrupt house dellamorte through some kind of non-violent leverage-esque scheme so there’s nothing left to run

we get davrin to casually mention that the wardens can’t truly quit and see if it triggers an instinct to prove the crows can do something the wardens can’t

we explain to him very carefully that as much as we love it when he kills people for us, there are other acts of service we would prefer day to day, to which alternate lifestyles may be more suited

we tell spite in confidence that caterina sucks and we just kind of wait and see what it does about it

we destabilise antiva’s coffee supply and force him to seek it elsewhere

we make pointed comments until something happens about how everyone needs to wear nice and identifiable rings so it will be super convenient when we inevitably get murdered for being the first talon’s nearest and dearest and something needs to get sent to him in a box

i guess if all that fails we love and support him and help him realise he deserves better and can make this choice for himself or whatever

[floral-and-fine]

Mourn You Now

Emmrich Volkarin x Mourn Watch Fem Rook (reader)

A/n and Disclaimer: I just want to say I have not finished the game or the romance, so please no spoilers. 😅 I got this idea after the little graveyard date and just had to write it! Thank you!

Thank you @ghostgum for the help ❤️

Summary: Rook is injured in battle, giving Emmrich a lot to contemplate on the matters of life and death.

“Rook’s hurt,” Davrin shouted over all the noise.

Emmrich, who was several feet away, froze mid spell, his eyes sweeping over the battlefield searching for you. Without thinking anything through, his legs started to move.

It was either by skill or incredible luck, but he managed to avoid getting hit or crushed as he rushed to your aid the very moment he saw you collapse. Panic was already settling in before he was even close enough to witness the actual damage and injuries himself.

The fighting and mayhem around him seemed to become a blur, his only objective right now was getting to you. He struggled to catch his breath as his emotion got the better of him. The sounds of the battle that surrounded were now muffled and dull to his ears, especially as the sound of his beating heart grew louder.

It was as if he was underwater, fighting against a current to reach you.

He fell to his knees, gently cupping your face as he tried to wake you, his fingers tapped against your cheek as he called your name. Ice cold fear flooded his veins when you didn’t move or react at the sound of your name or from his nudging.

His eyes widened as he noted the blood pooling beneath you. Carefully adjusting his hands he cradled your head, he could feel blood dripping down his slender fingers to his wrists.

Your shallow breaths did very little to soothe him. He didn’t know what to do, he called out for you louder out of desperation, but you remained unconscious as more blood continued to pool from various wounds.

Were you dying? The thought wormed its way into his head. You were dying, this was it… you’d be gone…

He couldn’t fathom losing you, especially when everything had just begun, this sweet precious love that was blossoming between the two of you, being untimely plucked before fruition…

He had so many things he wanted to show you, so many other little ventures the two of you could share before retiring at the Necropolis where he’d continue to teach.

A sudden longing unfolded, one that begged him to lie beside you and follow your spirit into the fade. The idea on any other day would have been more terrifying to him than all else, but today, at this very moment, it was almost comforting.

“We need to retreat,” Davrin commanded, the sound of his voice breaking through to Emmrich as clearly as a bell. The Grey Warden remained level headed, having grown accustomed to the harsh reality of battle. “Come on, we need to leave. Now.”

Davrin wasted no time, while Emmrich still processed the situation, he knelt down and grabbed your arm, placing it over his neck and his arm helped support you up.

Emmrich finally reacted as soon as he realized that he needed to help Davrin get you to safety. Quickly, he went to your other side to help carry you.

Both men then hurried to the nearest Eluvian.

Arriving back at the Lighthouse, Bellara and Harding took things from there. Bellara shiftly gathered supplies while Harding started bandaging what she could already see.

Emmrich felt so incredibly useless as he watched. Everyone else had acted sensibly and rationally, they were the reason you had a chance at survival.

…

Once Bellara and Harding were finished treating your wounds, Emmrich came into your room to stay with you, desperately hoping you’d show signs of improvement soon.

It wasn’t an easy sight, seeing you unconscious, bruised and beaten. And like a shadow looming over him, he still worried that he could lose you.

He stood awkwardly in your room, his hands fidgeting with one another as he looked around. It almost didn’t seem right for him to be in your room without you being aware of the fact, but he cared about you more than he did about some silly and old fashioned customs.

Emmrich noted some familiar looking items decorating the room, a Nevarran urn sitting on a shelf, a few trinkets you had collected recently from Rivain and Minrathous, but unfortunately the room could use far more books.

He moved a chair over, placing it close to where you were resting.

He recalled several tomes in his possession that he believed would capture your interest. He’d be more than willing to loan them to you. Emmrich would love to hear your thoughts on the rituals detailed in one of them as well as the techniques detailed for mummification in another.

He hoped that the future for you and him still held many late night discussions on all sorts of subjects.

Emmrich’s eyes felt strained as he focused solely on the rise and fall of your chest. Right now, that was the only sign that showed him you were still hanging in there.

The aches and pains of the battle were now making themselves known and his mortal body desired rest, yet his mind and spirit were still wired.

He heard Manfred’s familiar clinking as the skeleton approached with a tray, but Emmrich had no appetite, even for tea. Manfred placed the tray on the table beside the mage and tittered inquisitively.

Emmrich managed to muster a sad smile for his companion, “I believe she’ll pull through, Manfred, thank you.”

He rubbed his face, fighting off the weariness he felt in his bones as Manfred retreated out the room.

…

Your eyes slowly opened, the flickering of a few candles illuminated Emmrich’s tired face which drew your attention. The poor man looked dead tired, but soon his eyes lit up, his entire body acting alert all of a sudden, upon seeing you awake.

“Emmrich?” You whispered in a hoarse voice.

“It’s alright,” he reassured you as he promptly rushed to you and took your hand in his. “But I wouldn’t move too much or too quickly, take it slow please.”

“How bad is it?” You joked, looking at the bandages covering your arm and shoulder, but your smile soon disappeared when you saw the serious look in Emmrich’s eyes.

“Oh,” you swallowed thickly.

His hand squeezed yours reassuringly. “It was a rather close one, unfortunately.”

Silence fell between you, Emmrich’s hand remained on yours.

“Manfred brought tea, if you’re thirsty, although it’s probably gone cold by now,” he offered.

You shook your head, “Not tea, maybe just some water.”

Immediately, Emmrich jolted up from his seat quickly fetching you a glass of water. He helped guide your hand as you took a sip, then placed the glass nearby for later.

Sitting back down, his face scrunched up in concentration.

“Something on your mind?” You asked.

“There is a great deal on my mind,” Emmrich admitted. “In fact, I haven’t stopped thinking since…well since you were injured.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

Emmrich’s gaze shifted, looking slightly embarrassed. “I’d very much like to hold you, as long as you think it wouldn’t cause you any distress or discomfort, of course.”

You smiled at him, “I would like that as well.”

You winced slightly as you shuffled on the bed to make room for him, but before he had a chance to tell you that perhaps this was a bad idea, your fingers clasped around his hand and tugged him towards you.

With a content sigh, his long thin frame curled around yours, his chin buried in your hair as he clung to you. The room was quiet as you and Emmrich simply relished in being close to each other.

One of his hands rested on top of yours, his fingers lazily drew circles over your skin. “I was so afraid that I had lost you, Rook.” Emmrich closed his eyes, “In fact, I was so afraid that for the first time in my life, death didn’t seem all that terrifying.”

“Emmrich,” you murmured softly as you acknowledged the significance of what he just shared.

“Can you believe it?” He half chuckled. “I’m still processing it all to be honest.”

“But there was a moment, where I truly believed that it was over, that your life was over, and I… just wanted to follow you, to stay with you, even if that meant dying.”

You rolled onto your side as best as you could so you could face him, gazing up at him lovingly. It was his tolerance, vulnerability, and honesty that drew to him in the first place.

Just like how he opened up to you at the graves about his fear, how he constantly shared his knowledge not because it makes him feel superior but because he genuinely loves to teach, and then of course there was the connection you shared with him as a fellow Mourn Watcher.

You both could speak so freely with each other without worry. He accepted you completely. Reaching up slowly, you gently stroked his cheek.

“I can almost picture it so clearly, what that future would be like,” he shared, sounding so calm and perhaps even a little elated. “Our remains resting together in a crypt in the Necropolis, a large single headstone engraved with both our names, a sentimental epitaph that sums up our love in both life and death, and our spirits crossing over to fade together, to face whatever comes next.”

“Now that sounds like an afterlife I’d be honored to be a part of,” you smiled, finding the whole sentiment utterly sweet and romantic.

Emmrich laughed, “And eventually some curious young Mourn Watcher will come along, resurrect my skeletal remains, and have to hear all about our remarkable love story.”

He sighed, his eyes moving across your face as he took in every little detail, before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

“Thinking about the whole experience, thinking about you, has made me wonder if what I truly fear about death connects back to my parents…” Emmrich shook his head, not ready to delve too deep into past trauma and tragedy. “All I know for certain, is that I have a single request for you, my dear.”

“What is it?”

“Please don’t leave me behind.” His face held a pained expression, his dark eyes

“I would never…” you started, doing your best to sit up to show just how serious you were. You wanted to just grab and show him just how much he meant to you.

“Rook,” Emmrich reprimanded while carefully but firmly pushing you back down onto the bed. “You really need to be taking it easy.”

Now his body was leaning over yours, his hands planted on your shoulders. He was still cautious with you, of course, careful not to squeeze too hard, or put any extra weight on you.

He admired you, transfixed by your beauty, even in your injured state, you were still captivating. Gradually he began to lower himself closer to you, his nose lightly caressing yours before he finally went in for a kiss.

The kiss was slow and tender at first, but as soon as things heated up, when his felt your tongue graze over his bottom lip, Emmrich was quick to end it, pulling away despite your weak protests.

“You need to rest my dear,” he reminded you, getting up to adjust your pillow and fix your blanket. “Can I get you anything?”

You shook your head, “Just lay back down and rest with me.”

Emmrich smiled, slipping back into bed with you. He tucked your head under his as he securely wrapped his arms around your chest. Feeling your warmth, your breath, your beating heart, brought him such comfort that he’d never take a moment alive with you for granted.

[sky-scribbles]

Rook's notes for the team in the event of my (probably impending) death:

Lucanis:

My swords are yours. Like yours always were mine, when I needed them.

My spicy soup recipe is inside my Rivaini dictionary.

Spite:

You can have my poetry books.

Bellara:

I entrust you with all the elven artefacts that I’ve collected in my room. Keep anything that speaks to you, and make sure our people get the rest.

Please make sure my translation of that elvhen narrative epic is published. It was eight years of work.

Thank you for being my family.

Lace:

My bow is yours. I’m sorry it’s too big for you to use, but… it took care of me. I want it to go to someone who will take care of it.

Show Emmrich more of the world, since I cannot.

Taash:

My chocolate stash is in the bronze puzzle box. Good luck.

It has been such a privilege to watch you embrace who you are.

Davrin:

I know you’ve been coveting my halla horn charm. It’s yours, and if you find the craftsmaster of my clan, she’ll teach you how to carve them.

Pet every griffon for me. Pet them twice.

Neve:

Please take care of my cat.

Emmrich:

If you’re not too busy overthinking every little thing

We’ve been happy. I don’t understand why now

Do you think I don’t

Sorry. I understand being afraid to say what you feel. You know that I do.

I was afraid to love you too, in the beginning. I’m terrified of what it would do to me to lose you now.

I don’t regret a single thing.

As I have before, I entrust my body into your hands. Bury me in the Memorial Gardens. I love it there; it is a kind place. Raise no stone for me, but plant a tree over my body, and promise that my bones will stay below the earth. I will return to the soil. That is the Dalish way.

Anything I have not bequeathed to another is yours. As is my heart.

I hope that when your time comes, you will no longer be afraid to say that you loved me. I hope you will not be afraid at all. But if you are, know this: if any last spark of me remains beyond that final veil, it will be waiting for the last spark of you.

Manfred:

Yes, you can have that scarf you thought I didn’t see you trying on.

Take care of Emmrich for me.

[samusamab]

Objective Best Rooks for Each Companion Romance

Just finished my first full playthrough of Veilguard, so I now feel qualified to talk about the best/funniest rook race/class/faction combos for each companion romance. As always, feel free to argue if you want, but remember at the end of the day my opinions are always right (Government Mandated: this is a joke)

(PS: Race opinions may not be included, sue me. Also, light spoilers below, obviously. I'm pretty sure I got all the spoiler tags, but here's your fair warning just in case.)

Bellara: Grey Warden rogue. The bodice ripper girlie deserves a roguishly charming parter who is also a little dark and tortured, as a treat. Dating a Grey Warden feels like as close as Dragon Age gets to dating a superhero (but like, a broody one) and I think Bellara would love that dynamic. I have no strong opinions on race, but we'll say Qunari.

Taash: Elf Mournwatcher Mage. I may be biased, but I just finished a Mournwatcher Taash run, and seeing the way they talk about necromancy with Rook compared to Emmrich is so funny. Besides I think they'd enjoy a little goth elf to throw around.

Harding: The same combination as your inquisitor. Nothing better to me than establishing Harding having a strong type. Also very funny to imagine the inquisitor meeting Rook, the new partner Harding keeps telling them about, and they're a little too similar. Make Lace a little weirder and more fucked up (affectionate), she deserves it.

Davrin: Lord of Fortune Rogue. I see your "Davrin doesn't like the Crows because they're killers for hire" and raise you, faction of pirates and thieves that are literally just in it to beat people up and get as much loot as possible. It would be like if Isabella and Blackwall were a couple. I rest my case.

Emmrich: Mourn Watcher Mage. Listen, I know I already did this one, but let me be a little lazy. Admittedly, I am not an old man yaoi enjoyer (though I believe in their beliefs). So this one is mostly based around the idea of you Rook leaving to save the world, and ending up romancing the man who would've been their necromancy doctorate advisor.

Neve: Veil Jumper Warrior. Hear me out here, I'm obsessed with that one Neve voice line that reveals she knows nothing about the outside. Give her a wild child ranger-coded partner who lives in the cursed magic woods and would speedrun winning a season of Survivor. Make her have to go on hiking dates, it's enrichment.

Lucanis: Shadow Dragon Mage. Look, I know this is just Neve in a different font. But I'm obsessed with that Taash line about Lucanis and Neve dating where she implies their relationship has a predator-prey dynamic because he's a mage killer. Not that Lucanis is that kinky, but a Rook can imagine. Even if it ends up the other way, I'm all game for a short king magehunter getting tied up by his mage-dom.

Honorable Mention: I think it would be hilarious to romance Taash as an AFAB-Nonbinary Qunari Lord of Fortune. Just helping your hot coworker speedrun all of your own past life experiences. Please let me know if you've done this, and if it was worth it.

[kaija-rayne-author]

The elves 'needed a win' in Dragon Age Veilguard, huh?

Obligatory 'I'm not an asshole' disclaimer. Feel free to jump to the cut if you've read it.

Something came to my attention. I need to make it crystal clear that I utterly love the diversity in DAV. It's fantastic. I'm also a heavily left leaning, non-binary, queer as fuck reviewer, editor, and author.

I was on media blackout while I played DAV. Please be safe and take care of yourselves. Arguing with incels and white supremacists is completely pointless. They sea lion worse than an actual sea lion. Your mental health is important.

Though, every single time the anti-queer brigade comes out for a new DA game, I sit there thinking 'have you bozos ever played any DA game, like, ever?' My guess is nope.

Note. None of my writing on DA, but especially DAV, is edited. This is just my off the cuff writing. I don't have the time, energy, or heart to edit them properly.

Grab a drink of preference, walk the dog, then find a comfy spot, this is gonna be a long one.

I'm referring to a quote of John Epler's. Creative Director for DAV at BioWare in this Polygon article.

"elven historian Bellara Lutare and Grey Warden Davrin, come from Dalish clans themselves and even though they’re a little shaken about confronting their gods, they’re not conflicted about doing so. In fact, among Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain’s lackeys and puppets, there’s not a single elf to be found. Epler said that it’s vindication for the Dalish — which is nice to see considering how they’ve been portrayed in past games."

Okay. Let’s think about this first part. Epler says it's vindication for the elves and how they've been treated in previous games. You know? Ever since I read that article, confusion has just run around in my head. How? How can absolutely anything that happened in DAV be considered as ‘vindication of the elves’?

Firstly, I'm not sure if vindication is the best word for the concept he's going for. Vindication means to Justify, Confirm, Substantiate, or Avenge. I can't honestly see how any of the events in DAV do even one of those things for the elves.

You know what it really is? It's not anything good, regardless of which transitive verb you use. It's just bad writing. Like absolutely awful, pretty deeply racist, terrible writing.

You’re trying to actually have me believe that within the entire race of elves, city elves, Dalish, veil-jumpers, enslaved elves (who we conveniently don’t see at all in DAV, even though we spend time in Tevinter… the capital of enslaved elves…) there aren’t some who would follow Elgar’nan and/or Ghilan’nain? At least for a little while? The enslaved elves wouldn’t follow their old gods if they promised to free them? Really?

More realistically, there would be a schism within the elves. Some would follow the returned gods, some would deny them, and some would be like fuck this, I have halla to feed or floors to scrub.

Having the gods return would be a world shaking event on every front. Not just in the Disney villain mustache twirling way, like in DAV. But also culturally, religiously, anthropologically.

Every single elf in the entire elven race is ‘good’? There aren’t any who are power hungry? (Raises an eyebrow at Zathrian DAO.) No power hungry, not exactly ‘good’ elves, huh? Riiiiiight.

Would some, maybe even most, change their minds once they realized what Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain really were? Of course, there would be some. But there would be just as many who might stick with their gods.  For so many reasons. Revenge, greed, desire for power, unwavering fanatical faith... I could keep listing reasons for a while. That's just, realistically, how intellectual beings behave. There wouldn’t be any elves on that entire continent that wouldn’t throw their fists up in victory, and shout, ‘Yes! Finally! Let’s squash Tevinter first, then Orlais.’?

Really? Isn’t that kinda reducing the existence of elves to the same old fashioned child ‘not to be seen or heard’ thing? It’s infantalizing an entire race.

That’s both so naïve it’s sad and so disrespectful of the elves as intellectual beings with free will.

And how would most elves even know that the two returned gods were, y’know, returned? Much less that they’re actually mustache twirling bad guys a la Disney? (I could personally think of a few ways, but they weren’t shown or even mentioned that I saw in game.)

THEDAS is depicted as a fantasy medieval-esque world. Communication is depicted by courier and letters. The travel time alone would mean that most elves wouldn’t have a clue about even the return of the gods, much less their character. There’s nothing shown in the games that I can recall that covers this.

It’s unrealistic that even Bellara and Davrin know they’re evil until a few story quests in, leading to the second act. They just automatically know? How?

It’s already firmly established in Dragon Age Lore that the elves will willingly, some even happily, leave behind everything to serve an ancient Elvhen God. Even one with dirt, blood, mistrust, and disgust directed at him for millennia.

In the end pages of DAI, it’s clearly shown that elves leave their current circumstances to go serve Solas. Fen’harel, The Dread Wolf, The elven trickster god. The most utterly despised God of all of them has an extremely large following of elves. (Who we don’t see anything of in DAV, convenient, no?)

And we have a retcon from our dearly talented /s John Epler on that from /theplaydragonage reddit group. Paraphrased, Solas decided to work alone because he hated being a leader. He didn’t care about the elves. Somewhere between DAI and DAV the elves sworn to Solas sparkle glitter farted poof into the ether’

You know? That’s just so uneducated on how intellectual beings work that I’m not going to dignify it with a response.

And there are so many quotes from Solas about truly caring about the elves in Inquisition and supplementary materials that it's an utterly ridiculous Solas-hater thing to say.

So, why in all the worlds wouldn’t elves want to serve Elgar’nan, All-Father, the Eldest of the Sun, He Who Overthrew His Father, The Father of Retribution? He represents promise before acceptance. The power before the price. The moment of choice that precedes justice or vengeance, rise or fall.

Why wouldn’t they want to follow Ghilan’nain? Mother of the halla and Goddess of Navigation. The price and acceptance of purpose, and the becoming that allows no return. Betrayal and devotion are as equals to her.

Many, many elves throughout the history of the Dragon Age franchise have been depicted as extremely faithful to their gods, especially amongst the Dalish.

They stoned Solas and drove him away when Solas tried to tell the truth about them to at least one Dalish clan. It’s why Solas isn't particularly fond of the Dalish. If you stoned me for trying to tell you the truth of a thing, I doubt I'd like you very much either.

It really just feels like self-insertionism on Epler's part. Or poorly thought out ideas suitable to a first draft that any decent editor would've suggested get scrapped. Or maybe a bad case of CYA (cover your ass). I honestly have no idea whether Epler is faithful to any religion, agnostic, or atheist, nor do I care, it isn't anyone's business but his.

But the writing and actions surrounding both Bellara and Davrin, as well as the elves in general, feel like a modern atheist trying to self-insert their belief structure onto a fictional group of people it just would never fit for. Or that someone doesn’t actually know the Lore very well. (Yes, I’m aware how long Epler has been with BioWare. DAV, interviews, and AMAs absolutely prove he doesn’t know the Lore. And doesn’t seem to care? I’ll never understand that. Nor does he understand the people of THEDAS. Or maybe even people in general? Writing well demands at least some understanding of how people work.)

I can't for a second believe that absolutely none of the elves, a people who have been enslaved, abused, tortured, and used for thousands of years, wouldn't willingly and very even possibly happily, follow beings who are, in fact, their Legendary Gods. Beings that in elven cultures are still venerated. Beings whose bad actions have been forgotten. It just doesn't make sense to say there wouldn't be.

“Still, though, why haven’t any Dalish elves decided to join forces with their gods? As Epler put it, the gods simply don’t care about them.”

No. You know what saying there’s no elves in the entourages of either Elgar’nan or Ghilan’nain really does? It doesn’t provide vindication. Nor even surcease, which might be a better word. All it does is infantalize and remove agency from an entire race of people. From all elves.

And that somehow means the elves don’t care about the gods? That’s, uh, not how that works?

Agency, in writing, means that characters make decisions and it affects the plot (good!) or that the plot pushes your characters around, (bad).

Agency is whether the character happens to the plot, (good!). Or if the plot happens to the character (bad).

It’s honestly the essence, in some ways, of ‘choices matter’.

There is a severe dearth of good agency in DAV. Sad as that makes me.

So let’s talk about faith amongst the elves, generally, and the Dalish, in particular. Because following a god requires faith.

Saying 'there's no elves in the group of 'lackeys and puppets' following Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain is like saying that die-hard Catholics wouldn't follow a proven return of their savior, Jesus or even the father, god. Or insert any other cultures' living/dying gods return. Illogical, kinda offensive if you happen to be religious, and honestly? Foolish.

For many elves, their faith would be something they cling to. It would be hope in the darkness of abuse.

It’s kinda rude to say it’s a win for the elves to ignore their ancestral faith when it’s often, likely, the only thing they have left.

Honestly? It’s pretty offensive. THEDAS, elves, their rampaging elven gods, none of that is real. But there are plenty of abused minorities on Earth that they modelled the elves from. I didn’t grow up within the cultures, and I’m of Mohawk, Mikmaq, Irish Romani, mixed European, and (previously enslaved) African descent. Some things were passed down, regardless.

It's both my personal experience and proven in cultural anthropology that abused peoples will often cling to anything colonizers leave them that the people value. It’s the only way to maintain culture.

It’s why the residential schools took our hair first. Many native cultures don’t cut hair for numerous reasons. Then came the theft of language. My grandparents on both sides were kidnapped and taken to residential schools. The last one closed in 1996. I was a sophomore in university. This isn’t ancient history. And while, yes, Dragon Age is fake, people with similar experiences or backgrounds in the real world are hurt by crap we see in fiction every day. This is just a particularly egregious example of it.

History lives on in those still bleeding. No, if you’re of any abused minority, you’ll know what I’m talking about. We hang on to anything we can, because it’s all we have left.

So how and why would the Theodosian elves be any different? Because the gods don’t care? That’s some ridiculous authorium handwavium right there.

I could buy either Bellara or Davrin as being atheist or agnostic (more likely Bellara IMHO) but not both.

But as far as artistic depictions go? Regardless of anything anyone may say, they're shown as elves who are both pretty faithful. Here's why. They both wear Vallaslin.

It's pretty well laid out in the Lore (which we already know they ignored or retconned into insensibility in DAV and OMG in the interviews and recent AMA!) that the application of the Vallaslin (which translates to blood writing) is a sacred right of passage only offered to Dalish youths around the age of eighteen who will be staying with their people.

Regardless of the meaning of the Vallaslin in the past, they’re considered sacred by modern Theodosian elves.

They aren't just cool decorations. They're not make-up they can just wash off. They indicate which of the nine gods that particular elf has sworn themselves to in Dalish culture. (Technically eight, because Solas, The Dread Wolf, God of Rebellion and Trickery, never claimed or designed Vallaslin. Because he never owned slaves that is ever indicated anywhere.)

And only the Dalish use them. The specific design each Dalish elf wears is indicative of which elven god they both feel drawn to and wish to work to emmulate in their life. Making them even less likely to be worn casually.

The Lore is clear that application of the Vallaslin is ritual. It’s sacred. It would likely take multiple days to tattoo them into someone’s face. It would be excruciatingly painful. The face is one of the most painful places to get inked. I’ve got ink. It’s not comfortable even in ‘easy to tattoo’ places. On the face? Ouch!

Vallaslin would never have been given to Davrin. Davrin’s story shows some of his past, and in his heart, he always knew he wouldn’t be staying. His mentor Eldrin said something along the lines of ‘he knew/felt Davrin wouldn’t stay with the clan’. In the kind of social structure that’s been described for the Dalish, a youth’s mentor would absolutely be consulted on whether they were ready for Vallaslin. So why, for all the halla’s in THEDAS, would Davrin have Vallaslin? He wouldn’t. They’re marks of clan belonging, of pride, of faith in their gods and the Dalish way of life. Davrin just wouldn’t have them unless he deeply believed in serving Ghilan’nain. Which would mean being a Dalish wayfinder and halla keeper. Not a Grey Warden. 

While it’s cute given his backstory that Davrin wears the Mother of Halla’s marks. He just wouldn’t have them, no matter how sexy he looks with them.

If we handwave all that though… oh, the missed opportunity to have any Dalish wearing Vallaslin as a traitor to Rook’s cause, by wearing the blood writing of the God/Goddess they’re fighting? I was just waiting for the Vallaslin to actually mean something. For the gods to control, puppet-like, those wearing their blood writing? The missed angst, character development opportunities, and just… gah.

I don’t know if I’ll ever stop grieving what DAV could’ve been.

So if Bellara is more into science and questioning things, I could see her more as an atheist. So why does she wear Dirthaman’s Vallaslin? She’s not even technically Dalish that is ever truly shown in game. Dalish have a clan that is usually pretty important to them. Lore states there aren’t many, if any, Dalish who brave Arlathan because of slave-hunters. Where is Bellara’s clan? The veil-jumpers don’t count as a Dalish clan regardless of the window-dressing. They haven’t even been around that long according to some of Bellara’s lines. Okay, so if Bellara is actually Dalish from somewhere? I could see a scientist type having Dirthamen’s Vallaslin. But where in all the mysteries did she get them? Why would she have them? Given the why’s listed above, she just wouldn’t, no matter how beautiful she looks in them.

I mean, in a lot of ways, someone getting their Vallaslin would be sort of similar to anything sacred that is deemed ritual that dedicated a person to a faith/god-dess/religion.

So a quote from the Polygon article states, “instead of being accidentally (or purposely!) killed off by the player character, the Dalish elves in The Veilguard get to righteously rally against the mages that they once called gods and reclaim part of their history.”

Er… call me mistaken but wouldn’t that be sort of like destroying part of their history? Y’know, with destroying parts of Arlathan, banishing Anaris, and outright killing two of their venerated gods? Even if those gods weren’t as advertised? (A lot like this damned game tbh.)

Epler. “I love that the Dalish in this game, by and large, are saying, No, we were lied to. We were the first victims of these gods. We’re going to fight back,” Epler said. “And they really get a sense to kind of rise up in this game and start establishing themselves in this way that in the future I can’t wait to go back to, but in this game gives them a sense of a win. They get a victory in how they respond to the threat of the gods in this game.”

Future? What future? Given the events in DAV, there isn’t even a statistically relevant breeding population (in the scientific sense) of elves left!

In the Lore, the blight is a death sentence, one way or another. Between the Venatori’s favourite blood bags being enslaved elves, the gods using them as sacrifices, and the entirety of southern THEDAS being overwhelmed with blight, just how many elves does Epler think might possibly be left?

This is what I mean about DAV having bad planning, lack of Lore adhesion, poor attention to detail, and just crappy writing. Nothing. Makes. Sense.

Completely pushing aside pretty much everything I’ve just talked about… can someone please explain how most of the elves on the entire continent of THEDAS dying from the blight… y’know, the Dalish, named after the Dales, in southern THEDAS, which were quite clearly overrun by blight and not-fucking-darkspawn in the codices… y’know, the Dalish, on the wide open Dales, in land ships/Aravel, and with herds of Halla, children, and elders to care for… how is all of them being dead or blighted a win? The only potential ‘win’ for any of them is for Bellara/Davrin, who aren’t even technically Dalish by the ways of the Dalish in the Lore. And depending on player choice, its possibly a win only for one of them?

Bellara, in speaking about the gods, sounds like the worst sort of uneducated twit. And she's supposed to be smart? The thing with smart characters? You have to actually show them being smart.

I just can’t see how one or two ‘Dalish’ being kinda creepily uncaring of their venerated gods coming back to reality and being on the team to kill them… is in any way ‘a win’.

The racism in DAV is woven all throughout. And it seems it's baked right into the core of BioWare.

[fandom-go-round]

Hello! If you're still taking requests, I'd really appreciate it if you could please write some headcanons about Emmrich, Lucanis, Neve and Bellara dating a Rook who has pretty significant burn scars, particularly on their back, stomach, legs, arms, hands or feet. The scars are healed now, but they still consider them unsightly so they try to cover up as much as possible. I'd love to see your take on their reaction to Rook's scars being revealed to them for the first time.

Burn scars also come with a lot of complications like having to keep them out of sunlight, they often get pretty itchy and since skin regulates body temperature you can get cold super easily if you have significant burns. So if you want to include any of those factors feel free!

As someone who legit cannot be trusted around hot liquids and has scars from 2nd degree burns, I'd appreciate it, but if you don't want to write something like this I understand. Thank you, and I hope your day is going well!

Thank you so much for a Dragon Age request! I had a lot of fun with it!

Warnings: Burns, Talk of Burns, Previous Injuries, Implied Low Self Esteem, Implied Body Issues

Emmrich Volkarin:

As someone who usually wears layers when out and about, Emmrich doesn’t notice right away you’re covered almost always. He thinks of it as a personal style, at least until you’re exposed to the cold. It only takes one instance of fighting a desire demon and your hands to shake so bad you can’t hold your weapon for him to wonder. He won’t ask you of course, especially when Harding asks if you’re alright and you deflect.

The first time he sees your burns himself, Emmrich has a lot of thoughts. He can tell that you’re uncomfortable, not meeting his eyes as you continue to make dinner. It’s the first time he’s seen you in short sleeves and without gloves; you had thought you were alone at the Lighthouse. He wonders where you got the wounds and how but instead, he apologizes for starling you and asks if he can help. You agree to let him help and it takes almost a full hour for the tension to leave your shoulders. Emmrich is happy to wait as long as possible for you to trust him.

The longer the two of you are together, the more you open up about your scars. Emmrich is willing to listen to anything you say and go at your own pace. He’ll go out of his way to buy you embroidered gloves that you adore and has no issues steering the others away from the topic. He’ll hesitate to touch your scars because he doesn’t want to hurt you but once you assure he can touch, he loves kissing your everywhere. Scars are a part of you but they don’t define you.

Lucanis Dellamorte:

He’s one of the first companions to notice, mostly because he has some burns himself. Not as wide spread as yours but Crow training wasn’t kind to him and he sees the way you favor warm over cold and how your legs get itchy after being in Rivani. Lucanis makes sure to cook warm meals and uses ingredients that help with itchiness. He’s a silent supporter from the beginning.

The extent of your scars makes hm angry. He has no way of knowing (at first) where your scars come from and assumes them to be a battle gone wrong. Spite often speaks of hunting the people down who hurt you and he’s inclined to agree. If he finds out the burns are because of an accident he’s going to hover more. If you’re this accident prone he’ll be your silent shadow so you don’t get hurt again. Tell him off if he hovers too much; Lucanis will find something else to help with.

He has no issues touching your scars but will make sure you’re alright with it first. He never wants to make you uncomfortable and watches for your verbal and nonverbal ques. Lucanis will do whatever he can to help you feel better; putting on ointment, buying you new clothing, whatever you’d like. He won’t let anyone talk down to you. He’s protective on a good day and if someone tries to say anything about your scars? His knife is already at their throat.

Bellara Lutare:

Bellara doesn’t realize you have burn scars until you take your coat off, wet from being slammed into the lake. It took her and Davrin combined to pull you out and you’re swearing up a storm as you strip. Davrin just teases you about losing your footing before going to find firewood. Bellara doesn’t catch herself staring until you turn away and she busies getting the camping set out.

She doesn’t bring the scars up until the two of you are alone, checking in. Mostly she wants to make sure you’re not in pain and if you are, she can make burn cream. Someone in her clan had burns like yours that bothered them. You’re surprised by her practical offer and kiss her cheek, thankful for her support. You take her up on the offer, especially when you end up on the coast. The hot air makes you super itchy.

It becomes a habit for her to help you put the burn cream on your back since it’s hard for you to reach. It’s a soft moment inside the normal day to day chaos. Bellara loves that you trust her enough to let her do this and gets to touch you. Her face is red by the end and you tease her but its worth all the teasing to see the soft look in your eyes. Once of these days she’s going to get her nerve to kiss you, she promises!

Neve Gallus:

Neve figured you were using clothing to cover up something. Most people don’t wear as many layers as you and it a toss up between scars or you really are that much trouble. The truth is, as always, a little bit of both. You naturally run cold but it’s more than that. The first time she sees your scars, she’ll admit she wasn’t expecting them. She knows that jobs can go wrong, she just wishes you were luckier.

She won’t talk about the scars unless you bring them up. She understands how it feels for others to judge you based on old wounds; she’s almost punched people because of her leg. Neve does go out of her way to get you warm drinks to hold and buys you long pants as yours get ruined. The detective side of her wants to know how you got the scars but she does her damnedest to keep those thoughts to herself.

Neve can’t help but kiss the scars when she can, almost without thinking. Clothes on or off, she’ll kiss the palm of your hand or rub your shoulder. Let her know if the touching is too much and she’ll back off. She accepts every part of you, scared or not. She likes the flustered look on your face, it isn’t often she throws you off. Neve can and will use it to her advantage.

[scuttlingcrab]

The Perfect Teacher

Summary: Late one night, Emmrich stumbles upon Rook giving Manfred dancing lessons in the library, coming to the startling realisation that he might have feelings for her. And boy oh boy, does Emmrich fall hard and fast...

You can find it on AO3 too!

BTW! I'm open to receiving any/all prompts on Emmrich aka Bone Daddy, so please send away! xx

(Image via pictureamoebae)

After an exhausting day of cleansing blight from the streets of Treviso, Professor Emmrich Volkarin was relieved to finally be back in his quarters and have the evening to himself. 

It had been seemingly never-ending, its pools of corruption sprouting up like a plague, not to mention the dreadful legions of Darkspawn that crawled around every corner. Rook, Lucanis and Emmrich were only able to destroy a portion of the growth that day, the mere thought of how much more was consuming the city was enough to give Emmrich consecutive nightmares.

Once he had his nightly bath, donned a fresh set of clothing, and partook in some tea and refreshments; Emmrich nestled up in his red leather chair by the fireplace, ready to begin a new book. Courtesy of Bellara, the rather interesting work was a title he was not acquainted with: By Way of the Fade.  

Since the team’s inaugural book club, Emmrich was keen on reading more than the allocated novels, curious as to what other narratives he had yet to discover. It was his own personal fact-finding mission, purely for experimentation, gaining more insight into the world outside of Nevarra through these novellas. 

Emmrich naturally knew all the classics, had read and re-read the entirety of Thedas’ greatest tragedies and its grandest adventures, but was unfortunately a bit out of touch when it came to the latest trends. That realisation alone caused a new wave of dread to wash over him. However, seeing Bellara’s passion for storytelling, and her eagerness to start the book club in the first place, temporarily put Emmrich’s aging heart at ease. 

Shortly after discussing The Hallowed Halls with the group, he had discreetly asked Bellara if she had any more recommendations. In a burst of excitement, she sprinted back to her room, returning with a massive pile of her favourite novels and serials. In the end, Bellara made not one, but three trips; stumbling back and forth as she struggled to balance the volumes, eventually lining them up neatly by his desk. 

These weren’t normally the types of titles he’d pick up on his leisure. In his youth he most certainly would’ve been inclined to indulge himself in these risqué romances or elaborate espionage thrillers, but now, his motivations were directed elsewhere. To his duties in the Mourn Watch, to fighting the Evanuris, and to his eventual, Lichdom. 

But alas, it was a nice change of pace. It had only been a few weeks since his arrival at the Lighthouse, and he was already accustomed to this lifestyle, his new acquaintances, and the plethora of adventures he’s had so far. Quite the difference from his days writing papers and teaching in the Necropolis, where he was more than content to just keep drowning in his work.

Though he could do with less blight, and Darkspawn for that matter. The amount of washing he’s had to do to rid his ensembles of blood stains and dirt and..! Oh, but he shant complain, he was happy to have been chosen and included in something worthwhile. 

Time passed quickly as Emmrich read, and soon he had reached the final page. He closed the book with a contented sigh, placing it carefully on his lap. He let his mind wander as he watched the fireplace, mesmerised by the flames dancing as he digested the remnants of the story. 

Despite what the title suggested, By Way of the Fade barely broached the topic of the Fade itself, which was a massive upset to Emmrich. It was another romance that focused on love enduring through the ages, even moving beyond death itself. 

Emmrich bowed his head in agreement to that sentiment, his thoughts briefly flickering to his parents, before moving on to the rest of the book. The plot was rife with political turmoil, not to mention an unexpected murder and shoddy third act. In Emmrich’s opinion, the less faff the better, and perhaps not such a misleading title would have made him give it a higher rating.

He made a mental note to speak with Bellara about the ending in the morning as he rose from the chair, stifling a yawn. 

The hour was growing late, too late in fact, encroaching into his sleep schedule. As a man of routine, he seldom liked when he lost track of time, but some things just couldn’t be helped, especially when his hobbies were concerned. 

Emmrich reached for the cup from the table beside him, surprised by how weightless it felt in his fingers. Empty. He moved to the teapot, opening the lid only to find it was also devoid of any beverage. 

He hummed in disapproval, searching his room for any sign of Manfred. His companion should’ve been back ages ago to deliver the final tea of the evening. Manfred’s behavior had been changing noticeably as of late, instances of misbehaving or breaking an established rule; whether it was purposely or by accident, Emmrich would have to investigate further. 

The sound of raucous laughter trickled in from outside, stealing Emmrich from his thoughts. He raised an eyebrow, both in confusion and utter vexation as he wondered who could possibly be making such a racket? And at this hour? Had they no decency for the others?

Emmrich fetched his favourite burgundy dressing gown and proceeded towards his door, quietly exiting his quarters as he let the growing curiosity lead the way. He crept towards the balcony overlooking the library, half expecting to find Taash and Harding giggling incessantly once again or perhaps this time it was Bellara and Neve, engaging in another heated gossip session. 

As he carefully peeked his head over the railing, he caught his breath. Simultaneously Emmrich’s mouth fell agape and his eyes grew impossibly wide at the sight below him. 

Rook was dancing with Manfred, or rather, she was teaching him how to move accordingly. The pair were alone in the library, the table shoved back against the bookshelves to allow more room. A music box sat on its surface, a nostalgic tune, a classical rendition of a Nevarran folk song, resonated through the library. 

For an Elf, Rook was tall in stature, and Manfred just about came up to her shoulders. Despite her muscular frame, she led him with expertise, moving with an air of grace and tranquility as she went over the steps with him. 

The music came to an end as Rook paused her movements, patting Manfred on the top of the head. He hissed back in excitement, jumping up and down and pointing towards the music box. Rook let out another boisterous laugh. 

“Okay, okay… we’ll do it one more time. Remember Manfred…” Rook started, breaking away and standing across from him. “How do we begin?” 

Manfred stared back at her with a blank expression, tilting his head as he thought long and hard. Rook watched him expectantly, clasping her hands together as she waited for an answer. After a moment or two in silence, she smiled warmly and flicked her wrist. Her fingertips illuminated, purple bursts of magic filling the air around them as she used a spell to rewind the music box. The same melody began again and Rook took a step forward. 

“You bow… and I courtesy.” 

Manfred hissed happily and bowed, perhaps too deep, his head nearly reaching his feet. Emmrich couldn’t help but beam with pride at the sight, although he would need to show Manfred how it’s properly done later. Rook curtsied in return, proceeding to extend her hand as Manfred reached for it. 

“Now we move this way…” The two began walking in a straight line, their hands still joined. Rook took single sweeping movements, bouncing on her toes every other step as she moved forward. 

“One, two, three… one, two, three…” 

Manfred attempted to copy Rook but his movements were clumsy and off tempo, his bones rattling to each step.

“You’ll get there, Manfred. Now… the tricky bit.” 

Rook twirled to face Manfred, causing him to blurt out another enthusiastic hiss. She held both of his hands up in front of her as she guided him in a new direction. She took a balletic step and hopped with one foot, repeating the motion swiftly and lightly. 

“We step… and hop, step… and yes! Hop!”

Manfred was lagging behind Rook’s movements and instead of taking steps, he sprang along with her like a giddy rabbit. Rook chortled, trying her best to keep it together while continuing the dance. Manfred, oblivious to his errors, hissed with an amount of happiness that surpassed any level Emmrich had heard come from him before.

Emmrich gripped the railing as a memory suddenly floated to the surface. Images of him standing at the threshold of his parent’s kitchen, watching them dancing in a similar fashion, so full of love and adoration for each other. Another image of his mother pulling Emmrich into the dance, teaching him the steps with care, the three of them, a family, fumbling together, laughing hysterically, so much merriness, warmth... Emmrich’s heart swelled as he relished in this echo from the past, a lump forming in his throat. 

He felt pulled towards Rook, moving down the steps as if in a trance. He was unable to peel his eyes away from how she presented herself around Manfred, without judgment, with unadulterated patience. Rook was the epitome of elegance as an instructor, a side he never thought he’d see from their fearless leader. 

“Yes, good Manfred!” Rook remarked, keeping Manfred’s arms raised as they twisted and turned under each other, and then again. They followed this same motion, twirling around the floor.

Emmrich reached the bottom of the staircase just as the music came to an end, watching as they eventually stopped dancing, Rook’s back now facing him.

“It’s not perfect yet, but we’ll get there with more practice.” Rook exclaimed, giving Manfred a passionate high five. “I promise.” 

Emmrich straightened his shoulders just a little more than usual, pulling at his dressing gown as he prepared to take a step forward. 

“If you would allow me…” Emmrich began.

Rook spun around, a tinge of shock painting her visage if only for a split second, before it was replaced with a smile. Emmrich reached towards the music box on the table, manually rewinding it. 

“It will do Manfred some good to observe how it’s done. I’ve found he learns most effectively when led with concrete demonstrations…” Emmrich bowed, extending his hand in an invitation. Rook curtsied and readily accepted. 

The music started slowly, and so did their movements. Emmrich delicately held Rook’s hand as they strode in sync to each other, matching every swing of the foot and light hop with an exact precision. They went through the choreography, coming face-to-face as they twisted and turned under each other, spinning in a small circle, just as Rook had shown Manfred a short time ago. 

This wasn’t the whole waltz, there were still leagues more that Rook hadn’t taught his companion. Nevertheless, Emmrich decided they would continue through the rest of the motions and finish the dance in its entirety, as it was intended. And he so desperately, selfishly, wanted to test Rook’s skills, see if there was more to what he had just witnessed.

Rook followed along effortlessly. With each step, each twirl, they moved closer to each other, until Emmrich placed one of his hands on Rook’s waist, the other interlocked with hers. It was at that instant Emmrich glanced at Rook’s face, for the whole dance he had been too focused on each step, how they moved together, complemented each other's gestures to truly see the woman before him. 

Rook’s eyes, which were always supported by that infamous hard stare, a characteristic he found to be quite endearing, albeit terrifying; were softer and glittering as they stared at him. Her lips, consistently pursed and ready to chuck an insult at anyone she thought deserved it, were parted slightly, the sides curving into a sly smile. 

It took a moment to register her expressions, and he nearly stumbled while they continued the choreography, moving about in circles. Panic surged through his body like a jolt of electricity, his ears burning. He wanted to look away, to hide himself from that stare which stripped him of all his defenses. But he was mesmerised, caught in an unexpected trap.

Emmrich took this opportunity, at this newfound affinity between them, to savour her beauty. Rook’s short plum coloured hair, an asymmetrical cut, fit her sharp jawline exquisitely. Her complexion was hardened with years spent on the battlefield, faded scars across her weathered cheeks, but she was striking all the same. He caught himself wondering what other scars lay undiscovered beneath the surface of her clothing, if he would ever get a chance to see them, to touch them… he bit his tongue, out of habit, to keep these illicit thoughts at bay.

This was the closest he’d ever been to Rook, a type of intimacy he hadn’t known for over a decade. As he held her closer, the smell of her soft perfume wafted up from her neck. He breathed it in as they twirled, as they stepped, hopped, and twirled again. Warm and spicy, scents of vanilla, perhaps… yes, a floral scent, a familiar one that he couldn’t place…  

When Emmrich was first introduced to Rook, he was charmed by her youthfulness and the commanding presence that followed her into every room. Perhaps he was even slightly intimidated by her tenacity, bluntness, and that peculiar sense of humour. Despite some of the rather vulgar swears thrown about on their excursions, words he hoped Manfred would never hear, it did make him smile. 

Rook’s flirting, with him and the other companions, did not go unnoticed either. Emmrich never missed one of Rook’s saucy exchanges with Neve, her heated glances towards Davrin, or even the abnormal amount of time she spent with Lucanis. 

So, as one might expect, Emmrich was taken aback by Rook’s flirtatious nature towards him. The time for romance was over for Emmrich, or so he thought, now in his seniority, there was barely enough time left for teaching Manfred all he had to know, let alone all of his upcoming plans for Lichdom. 

He initially believed Rook was just being polite, her way of making him feel part of the team. He took it in stride, relishing in the thrill of being noticed, pocketing the compliments, the cheeky banter, and nothing more. But it didn’t end there. He felt her eyes on him whenever they travelled together, how she leaned in closer as he spoke, showered him with those coy smiles, and often came into his quarters to solely strike up a random conversation. 

Then there was the matter of the previous night in the Memorial Gardens, Rook’s words on how impressed she was with his informal tea arrangement still nagging at the back of his mind. 

Emmrich’s chest tightened, a foreign sensation compared to his usual bouts of existential dread. A warmth pooled from the pits of his heart, surging through his being as it travelled all the way to his fingertips. 

It was only when Manfred joyfully hissed, his hands waving about in the air that Emmrich realised the music had ended. Emmrich and Rook came to a stop in silence, their lips dangerously close, a mere hair’s breadth from kissing. They stood there for nearly a minute, unmoving.

“You OK, Emmrich?” Rook whispered at last, her amber eyes still glittering.

Emmrich attempted to respond, but found his lips dry, his tongue latching to the top of his mouth. Manfred intervened, approaching the two and pointing at Emmrich as he hissed in a range of octaves.

Emmrich stiffened at Manfred’s statement, looking at him in denial as he instantly pulled away from Rook. Manfred hissed again, clapping furiously. Emmrich brought his hands to his cheeks to hide the fact that they were on fire, convinced his skin would melt away at any second. 

“I…” He cleared his throat, “If I may be honest, Rook. I have not danced like this in quite some time.” 

Rook took a step towards Emmrich and he backed away. She was looking at him intensely, eyes locked, pupils dilated, as if she was possessed by a greater being and ready to devour him whole. He could only stare back at her, his heart pounding so fast he was convinced it would wake the entire Lighthouse. 

Manfred hissed again. 

“Manfred, please!”

Rook laughed, that sly grin he’s grown to admire returning to her lips. 

“C’mon then, what's he saying?”

Emmrich huffed in defeat, putting his hands behind his back as he squeezed his fingers together.

“What Manfred wishes to say… is that we make quite the couple, apparently.” 

Rook burst out laughing, Emmrich promptly joining in, delighting in the ridiculousness of the entire situation. She grabbed hold of Emmrich’s arm and nearly fell towards him in a fit of giggles and he froze, the heat from her touch becoming the focal point of his entire body. He was terrified of moving, for fear of losing control, of what might become of him if he met her lips against his. It was that unseen force again, binding them closer… tempting him to kiss her… if only to see how it felt, how she tasted on his lips… 

He cringed at the thought, bringing him back down to earth.

“Say, Emmrich, isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I beg your pardon!” 

It was her turn to blush.

“I just… I never see you this time of night. It’s mostly Manfred wandering about. You’ll be surprised what he gets up to after hours… he’s quite the card player, you know. Isn’t that right, Manfred?”

“I assure you, Manfred most certainly does not –”

Emmrich glanced towards Manfred and his jaw dropped to the floor for the second time that evening. Manfred’s expression might be unreadable to some but Emmrich could see right through him; that slight tilt of the head, the shift of the shoulders, enough to know it was true. Is that what Manfred gets up to when he’s asleep? 

“If you must insist, Rook, I was engrossed in a new book.”

“Oh?”

“A story I found to be quite intriguing, if not a bit imperfect. Focusing on a couple…” 

As Emmrich nearly began to describe the intricate plot points of the romance novel, he paused, noticing Rook was giving him that look again. The one where she was digging through the fragility of his armour, stripping him bare, piece by piece… 

“...of interesting developments in my research of the Fade.”

Rook nodded in disappointment, that mischevious look in her eyes fading, and Emmrich let out a small sigh of relief. 

“Ah, well…”  Rook stretched her arms out wide as she walked towards the stairs, “I think it’s time for me to get some sleep anyways.” 

“A wise decision, after such a tiring morning.”

“Mhmm, this was fun though.” 

Rook stopped, turning back to Emmrich as they shared a final lingering look. 

“Indeed,” Emmrich responded, with a bow. 

He could only watch as Rook ascended the stairs, walking further away from him and soon disappearing into her room. His heart sank when she was gone, from the thundering absence she left in her wake. 

Emmrich eventually turned to Manfred, shaking his head. 

“Manfred, perhaps in our next lesson we’ll focus on the traits of decorum.” 

Manfred nodded, hissing in anticipation.

“But first, you owe me some tea, do you not?” 

Manfred jumped and nodded again, running towards the library doorway. 

Emmrich remained as Manfred made his start to the kitchen. He stared inquisitively up at Rook’s room, the scent of her still strong in his memory. 

That floral auroma… 

Emmrich’s eyebrows raised at the flash of recognition, alas.

“Jasmine…” he whispered, nodding, chuffed with himself and her chosen blend of perfume. 

What a curious development. 

Emmrich walked out of the library, a slight pep in his step as he contemplated how he might begin his advancements.

[magesforthedas]

Okay, newest discourse I've seen and want to share my opinion on... Mostly it's about Rook's companions. PLEASE be aware the are Spoilers for late game DAV below!

So, I've been seeing a bunch of people talking about how the companions don't really act like they care about you, because they aren't asking you how you are doing.

We've got some things to dissect here 😅 first off, not everyone's love language is words of encouragement haha. But on a serious note, even if it's true that they never asked "Rook, are you alright?" (Which, I'm pretty sure I got asked that by at least one companion...?) It doesn't mean they don't care about you. The more interactions and companion quests you do, the more you see that care come out.

Davrin asking you to join him for walks? He sees you need a break and fresh air.

Emmerich taking you to the gardens? It's probably the most relaxing thing he can think of.

Neve taking you with her to throw rocks, the thing she does when she needs a break and to clear her mind? She's hoping it helps you too.

Taash taking you to feed the birds? Again, something that helps them clear their head? Makes it easier to think? Also, their comment about you not knowing loss... Haven't you ever said something when you are angry that you know will hurt? Maybe that's how Taash sees you, or maybe they see the haunted look of grief in your eyes every day, and wanted to provoke you into getting mad and talking about it- exactly how they are apt to share their emotions. But Rook knows that comment isn't about them, it's about Taash.

Harding taking you with her to practice her new magic? It's something potentially fun and a little exciting, something brighter than the death and despair everywhere.

Tbh I'm having trouble thinking past romance stuff for Lucanis 😂 but like, making you food, he does check in on you, his quiet care in the way he would talk to you. I'll see on this second playthrough how much stays even when he isn't romanced.

Bellara taking you to check elven artifacts? You most likely have no idea what you are doing, she obviously just wanted you there. Now, it could be because she just wants support, but I wouldn't be surprised if she was hoping some knowledge of how to handle these artifacts rubbed off on you, and wasn't sure how to say that. She's obviously protective, and doesn't always know how to say what she wants.

Point is, sometimes it's words, sometimes it's actions, but they obviously do care. They also realize: you are the one leading this, the one with the most weight on your shoulders. They may be unsure how to actually ease that weight, and not just remind you that you have it.

It makes me really, really sad to see people say that they can't find it in them to care about the companions, because they don't ask you how you feel. Is their worth directly linked to your wellbeing? Is the only correct way of showing care or affection the way you prefer? I cried through multiple companion scenes because of the raw emotions they shared with me. Does that willingness to be vulnerable count for nothing?

Something I honestly appreciate about Rook, is there's a little bit we know for sure about them. You can decide their identity, if they're serious or joking, or optimistic or angry. There's room to fill your backstory. But the core of you is the same, and it's why Varric chose Rook: because you see a problem, you solve it. You see an injustice, you have to do something. Every backstory, you did something that saved lives or helped people and it got you in trouble; you know how to put others first, but without it breaking you.

There are a lot of similarities between Hawke and Rook that I see, the Found Family trope being the biggest. And you know, both families are maybe a little dysfunctional. But while there are similarities, it's unfair to compare how Hawke's friends approached their wellbeing with the Veilguard, because they are all, the protagonist and the companions alike, different people, who would handle and process trauma differently. And in a way that, whether the healthiest or not, kept everyone sane; though there are times when things could slip through the cracks.

My final thought is about Varric, or rather, his death. I saw people talking about how Solas couldn't have kept that ruse going if the companions had bothered to check in with you. Now, sure maybe no one ever said anything because they were concerned if it would help or not. You've been caught in the infirmary a couple times, talking to nothing: maybe that is what helps you cope?

But I think it is completely plausible that the magic Solas was using to make you think Varric was still alive, could also have been censoring outside mention of him. A lot of the time if Varric gets brought up in conversation by someone, they just.... Trail off? What if they said more, but Solas erased it for you? And the companions, well. If you don't want to talk about him, they won't force you. Same with anyone else, like Isabela. Solas is smart, he would know that the people around you would know he was dead, and may very well mention it in front of you. You think he wouldn't have something in place?

So yeah, next time something comes up that makes you go, "this is bad writing, I can't like this game, how can you like this game?" Maybe ... Look at it from another angle? A couple angles? Think about what could be happening offscreen? Or if you really just don't like the game or the characters... Why would you want to make others feel bad if they do? Not to be harsh, because also if you have things you don't like, that's valid and it doesn't mean you can't express yourself. But that doesn't mean nobody should like them.

Love you all ❤️

[himluv]

Something a Little Sweeter

Hello again! May I present some more Lucanis? With a side of Embria backstory?

This calls back to the last piece "Preparations" so you might want to read it before this one, if you haven't yet :) .

The dining table was clean, the dishes dried and stored, and Bellara and Neve had ducked out to continue their conversation in Neve’s study. Lucanis sat in a chair close to the fire and listened to the comforting burble of coffee as it brewed.

He was tired. He hadn’t slept since he and Rook went to Treviso to meet with Teia. It was impossible to track time in the Fade but there’d been two dinners. He’d lost track of how many cups of coffee.

Twenty, Spite grumbled.

“Soon to be twenty-one.” In two days? That might be a new personal best. He stared at the fire and tried not to think. Not about the funeral, about Illario, or even about Spite. He tried no to think about Rook, but he kept replaying their conversation from the Crossroads. 

“When do you get your way?” She’d asked.

A normal person would probably think she’d been teasing him. Flirting. But he’d seen her flirt and she was much more… warm. Being on the receiving end of her interest felt like a sip of Viago’s best brandy. 

Their conversation in the Crossroads had been different. Less like brandy and more like stepping out of a warm bath and into a cool night. 

Vulnerable, Spite spat.

Lucanis checked the coffee and poured a cup. He’d just taken that first, glorious sip when the dining hall door opened. He turned to see Rook step into the room.

She wore her usual Arlathan leathers, but he could tell she’d just come from the bath. Her hair was down, dark with moisture, and her pale face was bright and dewey from the steam.

Staring?!

Lucanis jolted at that and took another sip of his coffee.

“Hey, Lucanis,” she said. She stood at the end of the table, one hip rested against it. 

“Rook,” he said. 

She crossed her arms, uncrossed them only to immediately cross them again.

He recognized the desperate need to do something with your hands. He raised and eyebrow and asked, “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

She sighed. “Yes, please.”

He chuckled and poured coffee into the twin of his own cup. The silver and purple ones she’d gifted him. He waited for her to take a drink, watched her shoulders drop from around her ears, and smiled at her little sigh of pleasure. 

He found her love of coffee very endearing.

“Better?” He asked.

She gave him a sheepish smile. “I missed coffee.”

“Do the Dalish not have it?”

She shook her head. “They steep a certain kind of tree bark that helps keep you alert.”

He frowned. “Is it good?”

She snorted. “Gods, no.” she took another sip. “Though nothing in the Marches was ever this good.” Her smile warmed him more than coffee, the fire, or brandy combined. 

Flirting?

Lucanis wished he knew. “Did you just come for coffee, or was there something else you needed?” That was neutral enough, right? Helpful without encouraging her attentions? But also not necessarily denying them either?

Want? Spite asked. Or not?

Another impossible question.

Rook sat in the chair next to the one he’d used a moment ago. She stared down into her cup, her posture curling in on her self. 

“Actually,” she said. “I was hoping I could talk to you.” She winced. “About something personal?”

Lucanis froze mid-sip. He took a measured swallow of his coffee, then cleared his throat. “Of course,” he said.  “If you want.” He leaned one shoulder against the mantel. “But surely Bellara will give you better advice?”

She shook her head. “I need an outside perspective,” she said. 

He hummed at that. “Meaning not Elven?”

She grimaced. “Is that okay?”

He could point out that Neve or Harding would also probably give better advice, but he doubted it would matter. It seemed she wanted to to him specifically.

Wants. To talk. To you? Spite crouched on Lucanis’s vacant chair, perched like some bad mockery of a Crow on a rooftop. WHY?

Lucanis smiled at her. “What’s on your mind?”

She took a deep breath. “So.” The word hung between them, and Lucanis braced for impact. Whatever she was about to say seemed important to her. 

“I joined the Dalish, and eventually the Veil Jumpers, to try to find my father.”

Lucanis blinked at her. “Mierda.”

“I’ve never met him,” she added quickly. “And I’m pretty sure he had no idea I even exist.”

Did she think that made it better? “He was Dalish?”

She nodded. “Mom always said he was a Dalish mage with Mythal’s vallaslin.”

He tilted his head at the unfamiliar word. 

“Oh! Sorry.” She gestured at her face. “Our tattoos. They honor the gods.“ She looked down at her cup again. “Or, at least, they used to.”

Rook. Sad? Spite flashed into being in front of Lucanis. Why? You?!

“What’s he saying?” Rook’s mournful expression was replaced with a tiny smile. 

Lucanis frowned. “How do you know he’s talking?”

Rook blushed. “Your gaze gets really intense, but also… far away?” She cleared her throat. “Like you’re listening to something, but looking somewhere else.”

He stared at her. “It’s that obvious?”

Rook’s eyes went wide, gleaming in the firelight.  “Oh, no! I don’t think most people would notice, I just–” she stopped and blushed so hard her freckles vanished in the wave of crimson. She looked down at her coffee again. 

She watches us, Spite said. 

“Ah,” Lucanis said. He stared into the fire for a long moment, willing the awkward tension to pass. 

Why does Rook watch? Spite asked. He blurred toward Rook, crouching low to peer up at her downturned face. Doesn’t trust us?

For once Lucanis understood, and it was very much not that. He cleared his throat. “You were telling me about your father?”

She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly and ran a hand through the damp stands of her hair. “Yeah,” she said. “So, I left the alienage to find him and when the Dalish couldn’t help anymore, I joined the Veil Jumpers.” She sighed. “I had his trail for a little while, but it went cold in Orlais just after Halamshiral burned.”

He’d never had many contracts in Orlais – they preferred to settle their disputes with their Bards – but Lucanis remembered seeing an uptick in contracts during Celene and Gaspard’s little spat. Shamefully, he’d forgotten about Celene’s actions against Halamshiral’s elves. 

“I figured he was dead,” she continued. “It’s been over a decade since anyone heard from him.”

“But?”

She tapped her index finger against the ceramic cup. She glanced at him, then away. “I found a note.”

“A note?”

She nodded. “First in the Lighthouse, and then another one on the docks in the Crossroads.”

“And they mentioned your father?” The Lighthouse was strange, producing things as needed. He could see the note being conjured here. But the Crossroads seemed somewhat less malleable.

She looked up at him and the confusion on her face made his heart clench. “They were written by him.” She shook her head. “Or at least by someone with the same name.”

“Perhaps it is a common name?” Even as he said it, he felt how ridiculous the words were. She would know better than him what elven names were common. 

“Maybe,” she said. “It’s from one of our tales about Fen’Harel. We all know it.” She shook her head again. “But I’ve never heard of anyone else taking it as their name.”

Lucanis watched her for a moment, noticed the way she fiddled with her cup and bounced her knee. She was nervous, perhaps even upset. This was not a conversation for coffee. 

He set his empty cup on the mantel and marched into the kitchen. He took out a small pot, a pitcher of milk, and a thick bar of chocolate. 

Rook joined him by the stove, at safe distance to avoid getting in his way. “What are you doing?”

“This conversation requires more than coffee.”

“There’s something ‘more’ than coffee?” 

He heard the smirk in her voice and smiled. “To my mind? No,” he said. “But, sometimes the heart needs something a little sweeter.”

Rook said nothing to that, though he heard a couple of delicate sniffles over the gently bubbling milk. 

You made. Rook cry!

So he had. But not all tears were bad, and after all she’d done for him, he would not hold a few of them against her now. 

By the time the chocolate had melted, Rook’s eyes were clear and curious as she peered over his shoulder. 

“So, what is this?”

“Cioccolata calda,” he said. 

She sniffed the air and hummer her appreciation. Rook’s sweet tooth was no secret, and this recipe was sure to delight. 

“The woman who worked in the kitchen, Mirabella, would sneak me a cup on my birthday each year,” he said. He hadn’t thought of Mira in a long time, but he could not see a cup of cioccolata and not smile. 

“You weren’t allowed to have it?” He voice was soft and genuinely curious. It made Lucanis’s chest ache. 

“Caterina was not fond of luxuries,” he said. “At least, not for her fledglings.”

“Sounds like she was a complicated woman.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” He stirred the milk more consistently now, the chocolate dissolving to thicken the mixture. “Maybe she was,” he said. “Our relationship was certainly complicated.”

He watched the chocolate and milk swirl together until they were fully blended. Then he added careful pinches of salt, sugar, and the barest hint of Bellara’s cinnamon.

He glanced over his shoulder at Rook. “Get me a cup?”

She knocked back her coffee, then presented her newly empty cup to him. 

Mierda, this woman. Was she trying to kill him?

He took the cup and poured the cioccolata carefully. When he turned to hand it to her, she offered his empty cup from the mantel in exchange. 

“As a treat,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He blinked at her, then smiled just a little. She waited while he poured a cup for himself, then they returned to their spots by the fire. He watched her take that first sip, the way her eyelids fluttered with pleasure and her cheeks bloomed with warmth. She licked her lips slowly and Lucanis had to look away. 

Spite crouched in front of Rook, sniffing at her cup. Sweet, the demon breathed. Comfort?  He glared at Lucanis. Help Rook?

Lucanis hoped so. He would certainly always try.

“So,” he said. “Either your father coincidentally shares his name with the author of these notes…”

“Or, my dad was an ancient elf.” She took another sip of her chocolate. “And not just any elf, but a friend and follower of the Dread Wolf.”

“And if he was?”

She considered it as she took another sip. “It should be harder to wrap my head around” she said. “But with everything that’s happened?”

“What’s one more thing?” He understood the sentiment all too well, but Rook deserved better than to carry so many burdens. 

“I just wish I knew what happened to him.”

Lucanis sipped at his cioccolata, savored the intense sweetness and subtle spice. He could not remember the last time he’d had a cup, and he couldn’t help but smile at the memories the flavor conjured. 

“Have you told Neve about this?” He asked. “She might be able to help.”

Rook shook her head. “Bellara doesn’t even know.”

“Really?”

She shrugged. “It just seemed so pointless after so long. I was happy with what I’d discovered. He was real and he was Dalish.” She looked at the fire and whispered. “I had people. Somewhere I belonged.”

She took another sip and smiled at him. “And, now I do again.”

She means you. Us! Spite said. Rook belongs. With us! He sounded very pleased at his statement.

Lucanis shook his head to ward off the demon’s words – they were all too enticing. “Maybe we’ll discover more in the Crossroads,” he said. 

She nodded after a moment. “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe.” She set down her cup, empty, and stood. “Thanks for this, Lucanis. It was really good.”

He wasn’t sure if she meant the cioccolata or the conversation, and even less sure if the distinction mattered. He met her gaze, saw the warmth in her eyes, and refused to look away. 

“Any time, Rook.”

And as she walked out of the dining hall, he was sure she knew he meant it.

[postcardsfromheapside]

"Bellara would be a better partner for Neve than Lucanis, because she'd bring joy into Neve's life-"

[insert the BIGGEST Cassandra Pentaghast UGH you can imagine]

First of all: Why is Lucanis incapable of providing joy. The man is funny as fuck, cooks, knits, probably loves more animals than just wyverns, clearly is capable of putting up with ridiculous family and loving them anyway, and loves his friends a normal amount. His first trip upon gaining freedom is to go buy presents for everyone. Please get over yourselves.

Second: Bellara idolizes Neve. She almost isn't a real person to Bel for much of the beginning of the game, and that makes Neve uncomfortable. Neve corrects Bel several times, though she's gentle and kind about it (as she is with everyone). Neve regularly sees things that would demoralize most people, and continues to do her job anyway. She compartmentalizes. It's not that she lacks the ability to enjoy life, or perceive joy. But I don't think she'd enjoy having someone by her side who was endlessly disappointed by the kinds of jobs she takes. She enjoys making people happy, not bringing them down.

If you want to headcanon the two of them getting together for adorable reasons, no one can stop you, but the posts I've seen arguing this fact have once again all come about because people are very uncomfortable with Neve/Lucanis and I can't believe we all have to spend so much time defending this *possible* canon pairing all because you're worried about her "coming for your man" while romancing him.

[serbarris]

I'll Crawl Home to Her 

Dragon Age: the Veilguard, some spoilers for plot, spoilers for Emmrichs romance  Pairing: F!Rook (Mourn Watch) x Emmrich Volkarin  Rating: M   Summary: Eight significant times Emmrich Volkarin called Rook by her real name. 

Length: ~2500 words

Read on ao3 here! 

Emmrich Volkarin first called Calliope ‘Rook’ Ingellvar by her name before she went by Rook. 

“Miss Calliope,” Emmrich called over the heads of the handful of students leaving his classroom. At the sound of her name coming from her favourite professor, Calliope instantly flushed and motioned to some companions that they should go ahead without her. “A word if you don’t mind.”  

“Yes, Professor?”  She asked biting her lip. Professor Volkarin was her favourite, not just for his fantastic necromancy skills, or how eloquently he explained such fantastic concepts, but he was also very attractive. At age 35 his hair was greying at the temples, lending him to look even more distinguished than his carefully put-together clothing suggested.  

“I’ve heard from others about your certain... proclivity, to have some ‘adventures’ outside of the Necropolis,” Emmrich began, shifting her paper to the top of the pile, noticeable stains and grease marks littering the off-white sheets. A disapproving frown crossed his face. “I will ask that your future work be submitted with less detritus than the most recent assignment.”   

Calliope looked at her paper and a brighter red coloured her cheeks and chest, “Of course Professor, I’m so sorry. I swear I don’t usually do work outside of the library, but something happened with –.”  

Emmrich held up his hand to stop the ramble from leaving Calliope’s mouth. A soft smile graced his lips, “Not to worry, my dear, but your work is excellent and you should take pride in it. Now please, I have taken up so much of your time already, run along and join your friends.”

 

The second time Emmrich says her name it’s when they meet again, 15 years later. 

Rook had yet to admit to Bellara, or Myrna and Vorgoth, that she did indeed know Professor Emmrich Volkarin, and of his work. Luckily her time away from the Watchers had helped steel her emotions, calm her once easy-to-flush cheeks, and made lies flow smoothly, but she had been anxious all week in the lead-up to their Necropolis visit. Bellara even commented on her makeup that morning, making Rook flush and attempt to wipe some away with the back of her gloved hand.  

-  

“Rook! Lovely to meet a fellow Watcher,” Emmrich exclaimed as he gripped her hand, shaking it politely. “I must confess I apologise if I have you confused, but Myrna had mentioned a ‘Calliope’ to me?”    

Calliope’s face dropped from her measured welcoming smile to a startled expression. Letting go of Emmrich’s hand, she attempted to speak voice unsteady, cheeks flushed. “Uh, yes Professor, Calliope Ingellvar. My friends call me Rook. It uh, caught on in the year since I left the Necropolis.”  

“Ah, no worries, my friend. I shall follow suit.” Emmrich turned with a flourish, leading Bellara and Calliope to the Belfry. Calliope internally kicking herself over the interaction.  

The third time Emmrich said her name was after they shared tea in the Memorial Gardens. 

“Speaking of home, have we really never met around the Necropolis before? Even in passing?” Emmrich’s eyebrows raised as he asked the question. Rook’s eyes widened feeling like a halla in the lamplight. An uncomfortable feeling churned in her stomach as she debated how much of her past to reveal. Especially, how enamoured she was with Emmrich as a young adult.  

“Oh um, I don’t remember everything from my scholar days. I only took a few advanced classes. Got too... busy.” Rook’s mouth dried at the admission. It was a half truth, she remembered nearly every moment of her schooling, growing up with the senior Watchers as guardians, and more books for company than friends, she was in advanced classes at a younger age than many of the other Watchers her age. 

“You know, I’d heard we had a young Watcher getting into scrapes on the streets of Nevarra around then...” Emmrich mused, Rook could almost see the cogs whir in Emmrich’s brain as he searched his memories for a young Rook.  

“They weren’t scrapes! They were... extracurricular learning opportunities.”  

“Aha! That's it! Calliope, you were in my Advanced Fade Studies and Etheric Flows class!”  

Hearing her name from Emmrich’s mouth took her breath away. She had rather hoped he wouldn’t remember her from her scholar years. Calliope couldn’t deny the butterflies fluttering in her body as he remembered her, almost regressing to her 16 year old self, and she endeavoured to change the topic from herself as quickly as possible.  

“Yes, I... your class was most enlightening Emmrich, but I couldn’t help but hear you mention homesickness?”  

The Fourth time Emmrich says her name, it’s a revelation. 

Fighting on the beaches of Rivain always pissed Rook off. It was always too hot, and too sandy. She hated the sand in Rivain, it felt... so coarse compared to the finely milled sand that tracked through the Necropolis. Of course, the scenery of Rivain was stunning and the smell of the ocean air was refreshing, as long as the Antaam weren’t burning gaatlok in her general direction.   

Rook dove for the gaatlok-armed Antaam, pushing her body to flip and attack the hulking Qunari with her imbued daggers. Necromancy pulsing from her hands as she struck true. Pulling her weapons free she could hear Emmrich and Taash finish off the last of the Antaam soldiers who had ambushed them.   

“They just seem to be around every bloody corner here, don’t they?” she exclaimed, wiping her daggers on her bloodstained clothing.   

“Until we can get to the Dragon King,” Taash remarked. The team had tried to track down the Dragon King to no avail, however his poorly planned traps had to lead somewhere.   

“We’ll get to him soon enough Taash, then you can set him straight on Dragons having queens!” Rook stretched to pat Taash on their shoulder in consolidation. Suddenly a loud explosion pierced Rook’s ears, throwing her to the ground some distance away from where she stood. “Calliope!” Emmrich shouted over the ringing in her ears, she felt sand being kicked near her face as Emmrich’s familiar boots came into frame, and a distant squelching noise of an axe being buried into a body barely registered. “My darling are you alright?” Emmrich asked, sending his warming magic over her body to check for internal injuries.  

“I think I’m okay, can you help me up?” Emmrich slowly manoeuvred her to sit, taking stock further before helping Calliope to her feet. He gripped her waist tightly to keep her steady as she threatened to sway, waiting for Taash to make their way over. 

“Hey, Emmrich.”  

“Yes, Taash?” Emmrich was exasperated, whatever could Taash want at a time like this?  

“Why did you call Rook ‘Calliope’? She’s called Rook?”  

The Fifth and Sixth time Emmrich called her Calliope, she had a cold. 

Emmrich looked up from his desk to the sound of Manfred hissing and raising his tray, proud of his assortment of tea, soup and some bread. “Ah Manfred, have you prepared this for dear Rook?” A pleased hiss resonated through Manfred's skull, Emmrich straightened the papers on the desk and rose from his chair, peering through the windows above to where the sun was coming through the windows. “It is about time to give her another tonic. Thank you, Manfred, I can take this next door.”  

Emmrich gently knocked on Rooks’s door, hearing soft snores from behind, he quietly pushed open the door and rounded the middle of the room to the table closest to the sofa. The dim light from candles and the fade fish illuminating his path. Placing the tray down, he crouched down near Rook’s face, and gently rocked her, “Rook? My darling, it’s time to wake up.”  

A grumbling “Mmph” was the reply he received. “Calliope, I brought you some soup.” He drawled elongating her name, much like himself, he knew the food would rouse her from drowsiness. She was often second to the kitchen when food was served, her childhood in the Necropolis meant she often had to go without, and why she often picked up odd jobs around Nevarra City to purchase items that weren’t second or third hand.  

Calliope’s eyes slowly opened, blinking, she noticed even with her lying down and Emmrich crouching he towered over her. As she shuffled to extricate herself from the blanket and sit up there was a thud of a book dropping to the floor. On instinct Calliope reached for it, however Emmrich’s longer reach picked it up far swifter than her lethargic body could match.  The book read ‘The Obverse of Reality: Studies of the Fade in the Waking World.’ A soft gasp left Emmrich as he noticed the book as one of his very own works, Calliope’s copy was too well-thumbed and too battered to be from his own study in the Lighthouse. Calliope noticed his recognition of the title, her face becoming hotter despite the chill that cloaked her body after removing the blanket. “You never told me you have read any of my works, my dear.”   

A shyness crept over Calliope, her eyes darting away from Emmrich’s face as she replied, the congestion in her nose lending her voice a nasal tone, “Well, I was in this class, I had to get your book, it’s even a first edition!”  

“It must have been sixteen years since I published this –” Emrich mused,” I'm sure I’ve published much more recent findings on the Fade, especially since it started to thin.”  

“I like it, I can hear your voice as I read it.” Calliope started, her voice slowly getting quieter as she admitted, “It’s um – comforting, to read a book I know so well.” Emmrich rose from his crouch, placing a gentle kiss on Calliope’s forehead and moving to sit next to her on the sofa. His earthy scent relaxed Calliope instantly. “Well, how about I read some passages aloud as you eat my dear, I also brought another tonic, it should keep your symptoms at bay and allow you to rest.” Said Emmrich, motioning to the tray on the side table.  

Emmrich’s voice was gentle as he read, often musing on additions he would make to the text, or discussing Calliope’s scrawled annotations in the margins. Making note that she used tiny skull shapes to punctuate her ‘i’s’ and exclamation marks. After Calliope ate, she leaned back against the sofa, her head resting on Emmrich’s arm as he continued reading. Emmrich turned the page to the next chapter and Calliope stiffened as she saw the doodle on the page, Emmrich let out a deep chuckle, noting the words written in a loosely drawn doodle of an anatomical heart. Calliope swore she could almost feel every blood vessel in her face expanding, a beet-red flush falling over her face as she scrambled to close the book. Emmrich moved to hold the book far out of her reach, a devious glint in his eye as he drawled “Calliope Volkarin, eh?”   

The Seventh time Emmrich said her name it was to give a gift. 

“My dear, please sit still or else I shan’t be able to give this gift properly.” Emmrich teased. Of course, he’d give her the present no matter what. But after finally acquiring a fitting token of his affection, his love, he wanted to give it to Rook exactly as he imagined.   

Stepping behind her perched on his desk, he opened the soft bag that contained her gift, he peered around to ensure her eyes were tightly shut, letting out an exhale of satisfaction Emmrich moved Rook’s hair to the side, holding it tightly in his hands he twisted her hair up and out of the way, a wry smile on his lips as he pulled lightly on the bundle. Rook let out a gentle hiss as heat pooled in between her legs. “If you could please hold your hair?”   

Satisfied, Emmrich proceeded to undo the clasp of the necklace, threading it around Rook’s neck, his fingers ghosting over her skin as he did so. After it was joined, Emmrich’s fingers lightly traced the chain over her clavicle, placing tender kisses on the back of Rook’s neck. Rook felt the cool weight of the necklace on her sternum, reaching up to feel the pendant, gasping as she raised it into her view. Finely detailed skeletal hands grasped a large garnet, it was hard to tell upside down but it almost looked like the stone was vaguely heart-shaped. “Emmrich, this is far too much! I can’t imagine what it must have cost!” Emmrich paused his careful mapping of Rook’s neck with his lips and moved closer to her ear, his light stubble scratching lightly at Rook’s skin.  

“I saw this when we were back in Nevarra and I couldn’t resist picturing how it would look around your neck, Calliope.” Added to the ministrations on her neck, he knew the reaction she had to Emmrich saying her real name, how a delicious red painted her cheeks and chest, creating the perfect trail for Emmrich’s fingers to follow. Calliope’s squirms brought herself closer to Emmrich, her back hitting his chest as he gently grasped Calliope’s neck with one hand, his other tracing the long line of her tattoo down towards her soft lower stomach. His cool rings icy against her heat.  

“Emmrich” she gasped, breath hitching, reaching for the back of his neck, bringing him closer, and kissing him deeply. Soft moans emanated from the both of them, Calliope broke away inhaling trying to extricate herself from Emmrich’s grasp, but he tugged gently, coaxing her back to her original position. “Calliope, this is about you, my love.” 

The eighth time, wasn’t really the eighth time. By then Elgar’nan had been dead for nearly a year. Emmrich and Calliope had returned to the Necropolis, Emmrich to his shaping of young minds, Calliope to the library, her younger self’s sacred sanctuary. On occasion they would jointly lecture on what they discovered during their time fighting against the Evanuris, careful to still keep some secrets. Manfred was flourishing under the tutelage of the Mourn Watch, his curiosity leading to amusing stories over dinner.  

On this particular evening, Manfred had delivered a sealed note to Calliope, asking for her to arrive in the Memorial Gardens when the dinner bell tolls. 

The flowers in the Memorial Gardens seemed to burst with fragrance as Calliope entered. A bouquet of lilacs stood on the table where Calliope and Emmrich had their first real date when they first started to truly get to know each other. A wisp danced across her vision guiding her past the ledge where a small table was set, taking Calliope back to when they first visited the Memorial Gardens together for the mourning rites, eventually the wisp paused at the steps that led towards the grave covered in snaking Shroud’s Kiss. Calliope thanked the wisp and continued up the steps, and onto the pathway which was littered in a cacophony of flower petals, lilac and yellow beckoning towards the figure at their juncture. Emmrich closed the gap, eager to reach his beloved. “Thank you for coming my darling, I admit it is poor manners on my part for such short notice,” he said entwining his hands with Calliope’s. “Emmrich this is quite the surprise, what’s the occasion?” 

“Well my love, I -.” Emmrich started, clearing his throat. “Calliope Ingellvar, my dearest Rook. Would you be so mad as to agree to a lifetime with a besotted fool of a professor, and do me the honour of becoming Calliope Volkarin?” 

And that was probably the most significant time Emmrich said Calliope’s name. 

[vigilskeep]

i love how the more stylised look of veilguard lets characters have distinctive shapes in both their clothing and appearance designs, it’s so pleasing to look at... bellara’s triangles my beloved. neve’s diamonds my beloved. mourn watch hexagons my beloved. lucanis’ silly crow mullet my beloved. davrin’s big ears that match the sweeping wings of his griffon shield my beloved. etc

[raviollies]

actually no im gonna yap

im trying SO HARD to gaslight myself into liking veilguard but so many narrative choices just make me scratch my head. I AM NOT DONE, I currently gotta go to Weisshaupt.

I'll start with things I like so far:

1. I think the game is really pretty and I like the puzzles :) Antiva is GORGEOUS, I think one of the prettiest areas in the entire series.

2. I really like the Minrathous/Treviso choice. More of that please! some actual drama and consequence!

3. Assan is adorable and I cannot walk past without petting him. I didn't anticipate myself liking Davrin so much since I'm usually drawn to magic babies over warriors, but he's probably my favourite alongside Bellara. I think him having left his clan is very interesting narrative choice (I am totally not biased considering it's very similar to Daee's story)

4. Thank you lord almighty for the wardrobe/mirror system. Godbless.

5. Everytime Lucanis speaks I think of Puss in Boots and that brings me great joy. Whimsy even.

6. When you place Tevinter decor in the lighthouse, they have a Hookah right beside a fresco of Solas killing Mythal and that is mind bogglingly hilarious. I do love that the Shadow dragons know how to unwind. We're turning up after fighting for elf rights.

7. Solas surviving entirely on meat, raisins and honey feels very r/malelivingspace

Things I am Not Liking So Far

1.Minrathous feels utterly toothless. Its described as terrible, den of slavery, conversion therapy through blood magic, treatment of elves being terrible - yet we walk around unimpeded. I expected a similar experience as the Winter Palace, or fights that could be avoided if playing as a human.

LAVELLAN is introduced in the TEVINTER TAVERN, wearing TEVINTER CLOTHING, like it doesn't...make much sense to me? Inquisition set up the cross roads with Morrigan AND the Inquisitior, it feels like it would have made much more sense narratively not just from..."I am the fucking Inquisitor In Fucking Minrathous" but "Solas and the crossroads are a vital connecting point of these characters story."

Speaking of Inquisitor, wildly bizarre to me that neither Solas nor Varric comment on you meeting them. Solas has a weird painting of the Inquisitor chair, but you meet the mf face to face and he just does't acknowledge it. I am not a Solavellan player but I felt Really Bad For Them In That Moment.

I think a good moment of comparison is the difference in tone of DAI and DATV...When we find out the orb is elven in DAI, Solas warns us to keep it to ourselves, with Lavellan even remaking that the world will blame us for Corypheus. In DATV, we inform everyone that Elven gods are attacking, and there's no thought or conversation about the impacts of that on Elves in society. The only one to mention it is Davrin way after we've been spilling the beans left and right.

2. I'm not done the story but hey has anyone mentioned we haven't fought a single Fen'Harel agent, what's up with that... I expected to be fighting Elves based on the epilogue in Tresspasser but ?? ???

3. I'm sorry I HATE THEM DISREGARDING THE WELL OF SORROWS IN FAVOUR OF MORRIGAN WHEN SOLAS MAKES A HUGE DEAL OF YOU BEING TIED TO MYTHAL IF YOU DRANK FROM THE WELL. Oh sorry, if it was unimportant then why the fuck did you go on a monologue about how you're "her creature" and connected to her. It felt like a retcon of the importance placed on it in Inquisition and how much of a deal both Solas AND Morrigan make about it. I'm sorry picking a ROMANCE was more important than acknowledging THIS?? ? ??

"But Ravie, they can't account for Inquisitors personality and making them important would piss people off" then just kill them off. If they're set on Morrigan carrying this piece of narrative, I would have written the Inquisitor off the table before the choice becomes relevant. Have them help you in the ritual at the start of the game and die. I feel similarly about Varric, because he feels like the writers stuffed him in the closet to not talk which just...JUST KILL HIM. Its better than being relegated to furniture!!!!

3. Speaking of Morrigan why the hell is so nice. This is not my beautiful mean witch wife. In fact everyone is nice. Even hardened Lucanis has been polite to me.

4. I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH ROOK. I profoundly hate starting off friends with Varric (and him getting shelved like what was the point). It ruins a lot of initial RP for character establishment, because it limits how the player character FEELs about the whole thing, your motivations are GIVEN to you. Furthermore, it feels like rook HAS an established character. I don't feel like I got to play my rook, just say things slightly differently based on an already established character. I dont feel like I am roleplaying a custom character, just as Biowares stand in protagonist. Maybe I'm just spoiled by the level of interaction that BG3 provided me.

The opening sequence is bizarre to me, because IF I MAKING THE STORY....I would have had the introductory quests for each of the companions be the first quest based on the faction you select (Shadow dragons with Neve, Mournwatch with Emmerich, Crows with Lucanis etc. etc.) That way you establish your character based on the faction and immediately get a little tutorial on what kind of character you're going to be playing. I would even keep the introductory quests the same with minor dialogue tweaks. The ritual would come after the tutorial prologue mission and then you start with Harding and the companion you got introduced with, since the order you get them...really doesn't matter or impact anything.

5. I think the Venatori and Antaam following Elven Mage Gods is kinda dumb. Sorry. I thought they both looked down on them for being either Elves or Mages/didn't even acknowledge them. What the hell is their goal anyway

My criticisms comes down to...I don't know what themes the game is trying to tackle? The game SAYS things but doesn't actually do anything with these topics. Minrathous HAS a slavery problem but we don't see it. Treviso is ruled by a faction of assassins but it's like a good thing! Elven gods are responsible for everything wrong in the world, but the narrative implications of what that means for modern elves are acknowledged in passing like acknowledging the weather. The game feels hesitant to actually unpack any of these things despite being the one to put them on the table.

Anyway I am going to finish the game and probably play on Daee with a Solavellan Inquisitor to see if that improves my experience by picking a character who is more tailored to the Rook they portray/not having an emotional connection to the Inky, but atm...Man I Had Hopes. Made me feel stupid for getting so hyped up for a conclusion to a story arc for a character THEY SPECIFICALLY LEFT ON A CLIFFHANGER FOR A DECADE. I'll just draw art, lie face down in the ground and imagine a more narratively satisfying conclusion to my Inquisitors story.

[dalishious]

Veilguard Companion First Impressions

So, I’ve finally recruited all the companions for the Veilguard! And as such, I thought I’d share my initial thoughts on them each.

Please keep in mind that as the title says, these are just my first impressions. I am nowhere near finishing the game yet. My thoughts very well may change after getting to know the characters more as the story progresses. Also, please do not take any opinions you do not share as a personal attack against you.

Bellara

Bellara might be my #1 favourite.

I’ve seen some people just say Bellara is “a Merrill rip-off” but I don’t think that’s fair at all. If all it took was a few similarities to say a character is a rip-off of another character, than I can think of so many boring white cishet male characters who would be guilty of that. But heaven forbid we get more than one elven woman who is passionate about her people’s culture and history!

Frankly, I think Bellara is a breath of fresh air in terms of Dalish characters specifically. Finally, a Dalish elf who isn’t punished for being proudly Dalish by the narrative.

I also really appreciate that so much of her can be easily understood by her backstory, too. Like, her feelings of never being good enough is reflective of the very realistic grief she is experiencing.

Lucanis

If Bellara isn’t my #1 favourite, then Lucanis is. They really both dominate that spot neck in neck. I can’t decide if I want to put him in a jar and shake it to see what happens, or wrap him up tight in a quilt and give him some good coffee.

I’m just a sucker for Lucanis’s character archetype, is the thing. I love taking him out simply because he’s so much fun to have around. And in terms of companion arcs, his is the one I am most intrigued to see where it goes.

Taash

(While I haven’t personally gotten to Taash’s non-binary plot yet, I am aware Taash switches to they/them pronouns, so that’s what I’ll be using.)

The moment I met Taash felt my heart skip a beat. The only thing hotter than their appearance is their voice. I know BioWare probably left Taash out of a lot of the advertising because they wanted to keep Taash’s gender stuff a surprise, but oh my god, because of this I was taken by quite the surprise. And so far Taash seems to be the type to keep a hard outer shell to protect a much softer side, and that is yet another character archetype I really love.

Davrin

My initial gripe about Davrin’s writing being so exclusively about Assan rather than Davrin himself is slowly peeling away, I hope. While I still think its bullshit that you can welcome Assan into the Veilgaurd but not Davrin, at least I’ve finally gotten a few bits of dialogue to get to know more about him finally. I just want to keep this momentum! Because Davrin as a concept has so much potential, in my opinion, and what little bits I have gotten from him have captivated me. But I can’t tell yet if it’s intentionally part of his character that maybe he’s just a closed off person who takes a while to trust others, (a little like Taash?) Or if the writer just cared more about griffons than the actual guy. I’m really, really holding out hope for the former.

Emmrich

Emmrich is so much more charming than I expected, and I found him instantly endearing the moment we met him. I also really like that we’re finally hearing some different stances and insight on death and necromancy than we ever had before from a companion! It makes him feel so fresh and completely new!

Harding

I’ll be real with you: I was not anticipating caring about Harding so much. She was who I was originally least interested in, when the companion line-up was announced. But the direction they’re taking her in has me questioning so much about bigger lore questions.

Unfortunately, I still don’t see much in her except being a vessel for those bigger lore questions, though. Like, Harding as a person has me mildly curious at best.

Neve

I’m really sorry Neve fans, but I just find her really boring so far, in comparison to everyone else. She doesn’t have a lot going on, and what she does have going on, doesn’t really captivate me much. Maybe I was just hoping she’d have stronger stances on things than she does? I don’t know.

It could be that I just really fucked up with Neve, and it won’t be until another playthrough that I’ll get to experience more that will change my mind. Because I will admit I am very good at picking choices she disapproves of, with my first Rook.