#putting manfred in my pocket

[orangepajamas]

his dad just finished polishing him he's so excited

[im-a-dokutah]

I present to you... baby Ascalon and Manfred !!

(well not really baby, more like children i suppose)

[rosenfey]

good night im off to cradle my datv artbook in my arms as I fall asleep like its my little baby

[felassan]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "To celebrate DA day, I've made a bluesky account that I'll keep active for a few days to talk about my work on Inqusition or Veilguard! After a few days I'll lock the account, because I'm not a social media person. Happy to talk until then though. I want to say straight off: the reception to Emmrich, Manfred, the Mourn Watch, and the Grand Necropolis has been heartwarming for all of us who worked on those people and places. Thank you all very much!" [source, two]

Rest of post under cut due to length and spoilers. [Post Two, Post Three]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "In the meantime, I do want to talk about a couple of things I saw floating around regarding Emmrich: 1. Emmrich being 52 or 50. I think people got 50 from data mining a character file, but we can't do a ranges in those files. As in, I couldn't input 50-60, it had to be a whole number. I put down 50 as an early ballpark, then went more accurate in later audition scripts. 2. Fifty-two is a old number I threw into an early document before his art or character was totally final. (And which caused another developer a headache because they thought it was accurate, I never updated it. Sorry about that.) 3. "Wait, how old is Emmrich then?" Once I saw his final character art, I felt more mid to late 50s. MAYBE early 60s. But unless we specifically state a character's age in the game, it's all malleable. I honestly would just adjust it to your impressions unless stated otherwise. 4. I've also seen comments on how weird it is for Emmrich to act like there's an age-gap in the romance if your Rook is around his age. And you're right. 5. The reason is because Rook WAS younger when those scenes were written and worked on. I felt it'd be odd if I never addressed the May-December aspect, especially as it hooks into some of Emmrich's worries. 6. By the time that shifted, it was really too late to change without catastrophic repercussions to the excellent cinematics and music and other things that depend on line delivery and timing. 7. To be clear: you can feel how you want about the age gap coming up at all! But that's how the discrepancy came about. 8. "Is there a way to reconcile Emmrich acting like my Rook is way younger than him if they're not?" Great question! I have several suggestions: -Accept it's an error. (True, but unexciting) -Emmrich considers a gap of 3-5 years scandalous. (Funny, albeit a bit cartoonish.) -The Mourn Watch has perfected swapping out organs, and Emmrich is nervously hiding that he's way older than he looks out of vanity. (Untrue, but funny.)" [source thread]

User in reply to point 6. above: "I'm personally glad it was too late to change because their argument about it is genuinely my favorite scene in the entire game! 😭💕 It's such an important moment to me" / Sylvia: "Thanks! That one was one where I was all sweatily trying to balance things out, with tone, with pacing, etc. Really glad it came together for you. (Cine and the actors did heroic things there to get it feeling just so!)" [source]

More snippets:

Emmrich's favorite ice cream flavor? Rum raisin [source]

Lots of people on the dev team shared the vision of having a bunch of gothic weirdness in that pocket of Thedas [source] (Necropolis/Nevarra)

Sylvia "especially liked writing the Mourn Watch origin, it was fun to write a fellow nerd for Emmrich to chat with" [source]

Sylvia poured some personal worries and fears into writing Emmrich [source]

On Vorgoth and their nature: "I'm a little leery of saying anything, partly because I'm cowardly avoiding publicly defining anything more until/if I ever need to. And partly because I did want them to be a fresh unknown. Sorry!" [source] "I'm glad you like Vorgoth, but I'm afraid I don't have much for you that isn't in the game. I deliberately wrote them so as to leave room, if we ever revisited them, or for Vorgoth to remain mysterious, if we did not. I'm sorry if that's not a very satisfying answer!" [source] "I will say, it was fun to throw in a few lines about Vorgoth's art collection. Their passion for it is sincere and deep. (I wanted all the Watchers to have a little non-death related hobby or interest, because they can be so singularly focused.)" [source]

Dwarven Mourn Watcher is a rare origin combo for Rook so Sylvia wanted to call it out [source]

On the outcomes of Emmrich's quest: "I tried really hard to make the options equally viable, and more up to the player's interpretation or preferences of what it would mean for Emmrich in their view. It's been interesting seeing reactions to it, which hinge sometimes on various single lines pushing people one way or another!" [source]

"The Grand Necropolis is always eager and ready for a new member of the Mourn Watch to grace its ranks." [source]

User: "I loved Emmrich's view on death and what his personal quest ultimately went on to say about the nature of death itself, and how the beauty of mortality lies in its impermanence and unpredictability." / Sylvia: "I really wanted to dig into those themes, and everyone in cine and art and level design and editing and the whole team honed in exactly on the vibe. The floral stuff especially, I was so thrilled when I played through the Memorial Gardens' with the art and lighting in." [source]

User: "I experience thanatophobia and that first conversation w/ Emmrich was so affirming and helped me describe my own anxiety to others" / Sylvia: "Thanks, the thanatophobia was, as you may've guessed, a personal experience for me too. I'm glad it was something that helped a little." [source] "I suspect that phobia is way more common than people think, and part of the reason Emmrich talks about it was to express that sentiment out loud. I find it helps sometimes just to acknowledge it." [source]

What languages does Emmrich speak other than Trade? "I think he'd be familiar with Tevene, since there's surely many, many old texts about magic written in that language. Kind of like a doctor that knows latin through their work. I also named that MW alphabet "tomb-script", though I'm not sure if it has a spoken component or not since it never came up in-game. If it does, he'd be able to speak that for sure." [source, two]

User: "Playing as a Mourn Watch Rook has been an absolute delight!!!" / Sylvia: "Thank you so much, I really liked writing those branches of the dialogue. Since Emmrich's so focused on necromancy, it was fun having a Rook who could be both casual and knowledgeable about it." [source]

User: "In your opinion, what outcome do you prefer for a romanced Emmrich (lich/non lich)?" / Sylvia: "Interesting question! To be honest, I'm afraid to answer it properly in case anyone takes my answer to be a canonical one. I really wanted either path to feel equally interesting/correct for whatever you decide fits your Rook's relationship with Emmrich. (We're also in the strange waters of meta-reasoning. I GAVE Emmrich his fear of death-Sorry Emmrich!-which makes me feel a little culpable for that, even though he's entirely fictional. And that might prey on my mind when trying to decide. A very odd experience!)" [source, two]

What music genres would Emmrich be into? "Classical music is very much playing to type for Emmrich, but I feel it's also correct. He'd enjoy a nice concerto or an organ recital. Or, if he's feeling daring, a bold new Orlesian opera! But I don't think his tastes are too outré in that area. That said, I saw someone post something like "Leave Emmrich alone, let him attend the Depeche Mode concert" while listening to Depeche Mode's "Violator", for the first time, which made me laugh. (Great album. If he could get over the shock of synths, Emmrich might enjoy "Waiting for the Night".)" [source, two]

When writing Emmrich the devs wanted to try and hit the gothic romance vibe [source]

Does Emmrich mix his own fragrance/cologne? Does he ever vary it by the season? "I think Emmrich goes to some of the many perfumers that have set up shop in Nevarra City around the Necropolis, just because he trusts their judgement and expertise. I hadn't considered him varying it by season, but that's very fun! I certainly think he has more than one bottle of scent." [source]

User: "How does Lich Emmrich have sex?" / Sylvia: "I don't mind the question! But my answer's a bit boring: I generally stay at arm's length on the more explicit romance stuff, just because if it's not stated or shown in-game, I don't want to bring in a canonical answer that might affect what people imagined. My general preference for romantic scenes that get physical is to leave blank space somewhere, so players can imagine what happens next. It's not the ONLY way to do it, I think there's legitimate artistic reasons to go more explicit. But that's how I approached Emmrich (and before him Josephine.)" [source, two]

User: "The scene with the fade glow where he touches your hand haunts me in the best way" / Sylvia: "Aw thank you. Our animators and audio people made that scene way better than I could've hoped! They took such care with everything there. I want to say that little eye-peep from Rook was added in by one of them, which was the perfect touch." [source]

User on Emmrich: "i’m curious whether you think he’d prefer dogs or cats (or both, or neither)" / Sylvia: "I think he'd consider cats and dogs a little too noisy and messy for his tastes. Not like a nice, quiet plant or skeleton! (Weirdly, I actually had a scrap of banter going over this exact subject at one point. It got tightened down to the exchange with Harding about the pig he used to hug when he was a kid.)" [source, two]

Sylvia was trying to tease Nevarra with the Tevinter Nights story Down Among the Dead Men [source]. "It was really fun to tease the Necropolis, so to speak, in TN, and I'm grateful we got to actually let players through its gates at last." [source]

User: "if Rook chooses to save Manfred and keep Emmrich mortal, what would Emmrich wish to become of his body once he did pass on?" / Sylvia: "Good question. I think he'd want to remain active and useful in death. A guide for other Mourn Watchers, or posted as a mystic guide somewhere dangerous, or perhaps an oracle in the library." [source]

User: "when and how was it decided that Emmrich would be romanceable? I remember reading that he would not be a romance option." / Sylvia: "I'm not sure where that came from, because I pitched him and then shortly after that we decided the entire cast was romanceable. That was fairly early on in the development of Veilguard, as I recall it. (Could've been a crossed wire?)" [source]

Trick Weekes: "Sylvia wrote the fantastic Emmrich "the Vol-carnage" Volkarin and everything that happens in Nevarra while dealing with a lead writer whose attitudes about corpses and undead are... not dissimilar from Taash's." [source] / Sylvia: "I still remember when you gave the very accurate feedback "I think we need to give players whose Rooks aren't into corpses some roleplaying choices to express this" and I was all "Ohhh yeaaaaaah." (Thank u Trick, you were right)" [source] / Trick: "Specifically, being able to express this without locking themselves out of the content! (For non-Sylvia folks) Given my issues with corpses, Emmrich as a whole was SUPER Not For Me, so I gave one caveat and then said, "For the rest of my critique, I will be impersonating his target audience." [source]

Sylvia on the secret origins of Manfred: "After I pitched Emmrich, I started jotting down notes and thoughts on his plots, his quirks, all that kind of stuff. It was very early on Veilguard, anything was still possible. We were chatting in the writer's room about it one day, and I think we'd just seen some early concept art for Emmrich. And our lead writer Trick Weekes joked that Emmrich looked like a man who'd have a skeleton named Manfred. And I laughed and went "Yeah he does!" And then I thought about it. It's wild in retrospect, but that one comment spurred a train of thought that led to the core of Emmrich's arc. He may've ended up a very different character without it! tl;dr: I stole it from Trick." [source, two, three, four]

"I got to play with a pretty free palette when defining the way Emmrich and the necromancers view death and spirits. But I tried to keep it within the confines of existing lore. That's one reason why that scene where Emmrich talks about Manfred to Harding goes into "the eternal question" of whether a soul actually returns with the dead or not. Nevarra has distinct beliefs, but I thought it'd be interesting if its people argue over their interpretations of those beliefs." [source, two]

"the other writers also suggested a bit later on that the big choice dig more into Emmrich's philosophies. Initially, it was more personally focused on his fears, which made it 'relatable' but pettier. Without that correction, I think it would've been weaker, I totally needed the team push." [source]

"I have a few guides to graveyard symbology, and it's so packed with references and meaning." [source]

User: "Did any of your own fears & experiences, make it into the writing of Emmrich? If yes, is it information you’re comfortable sharing with us? If it’s too personal to give any details, that’s fine as well. Also, across the other games, who do you think Emmrich will get along with best?" / Sylvia: "some of his fears are absolutely personal. The reflexive-compulsive panic over death is something I'm very familiar with, and I wanted to explore that through him. Because I suspected it was not uncommon, and worth examining. The question of who he'd get along with from the other games is surprisingly tough! Because without asking the other writers about their characters, I wouldn't know for sure. So I can only really speak to Josephine with surety. That said: -I think Josephine would be polite, and grow to like him, but would never entirely be over the ostentatious necromancy. -I think Emmrich meeting Sera would be the funniest match." [source, two, three]

"Peter Cushing was also one of my go-tos as an example of what I wanted Emmrich to be." [source]

"(Huge shout out to all the animators and level designers making Manfred run, quite literally. Like 95% of his personality lives in his movement, I think they nailed it.)" [source]

On Emmrich: "I tried to put a lot of passion and sincerity in his love for the dead, and I admit the Necropolis was THE big place I wanted to see in Thedas myself ever since reading about it in a codex." [source]

User: "Thank you for letting him have that cemetery dream date!" / Sylvia: "Having the date in the cemetery was one of the first things I wanted when thinking about the romance." [source]

"Josephine was the first time I was entrusted with a new character and a new romance at once, and that'll always be special to me." [source]

User: "How much input did you have in Emmrich's appearance in the podcast?" / Sylvia: "In the podcast, none myself. I believe it was handled by a third party but reviewed by a few people at BW, I don't know too much past that. (We did provide a descriptor and character rules. Stuff like "Emmrich never swears" and "always says amongst" and broader, more thematically useful things.)" [source]

User on Emmrich: "Are you planning any other external-media stories for him?" / Sylvia: "Thanks very much, The Flame Eternal has a special place in my heart for being the first time Emmrich got to be center stage in a story. (And very flattering to hear about the cross stitch. That's so cool!) I can't speak to any external-media plans, I'm afraid. That's not an implied hint about anything existing or not, it's just literally outside what I'm allowed to chat about. It'd be fun to do something like that again though!" [source, two]

"I must give full credit to Nick Borraine, Emmrich's voice actor. He got the compassion and tenderness the character needed right away." [source]

"And glad him being closer to your age resonated, I really wanted someone older out on an adventure. No reason that has to stop at any age IMO." [source]

User: "do the mourn watcher/nevarra in general raise their pets after they die to keep them around? like a dog skeleton with a whisp in it?" / Sylvia: "To be honest I hadn't thought out this one, but it's a very good question. I'm not sure how common that would be, or even if it's permitted to have pets running around the family crypt. (I definitely thing people would WANT to do it.) You know, I think I'm going to have to leave this one in the vague quantum foam of the future. I think I'd want to not only double check existing lore, but answer that in-game (or in a book or etc.) if we ever need to. (Hope that's not too much of a cop out. Sometimes I like to leave questions I'm not sure about alone, because until it's in an official game or story, it doesn't quite count.)" [source, two, three]

User: "as someone who shares emmrich's anxiety about mortality, getting to spend time with him, and in the grand necropolis and with the mourn watch, was genuinely soothing" / Sylvia: "Thank you, I'm glad he was a comfort. It's a familiar fear for me too, and I'd hoped he would connect that way with people very much." [source]

On the giant ribcage 'ceiling' in the Necropolis: "sadly, even I don't know all the mysteries of the Necropolis. (Which is to say it's a very cool bit of art but has no stated origin yet. Could be a large dragon, a giant...or something weirder!)" [source]

On TN story Luck in the Gardens: "It was nice change up, writing in first person and with someone so rascally. I've got an enduring affection for the Lords after writing Hollix, the scamp." [source]

User: "I just love his genuine enthusiasm for everything he does. If the other party members had fan clubs Emmrich would be the president of each and I love that for him" / Sylvia: "Thank you! I really wanted him to embody a kind of expansiveness and generosity of spirit, to stand in contrast to the eeriness of his abilities." [source]

User: "What was your inspiration for Josie?" / Sylvia: "My girl! When I came on to Inquisition, there'd already been work done on setting up the spine of the main plot, and figuring out the overall cast. But one of the advisors was a little murkier. It just said "Diplomat" on the white board. We knew we wanted someone in that position, but not who. So in a game where you were out exploring, killing demons, etc., but also had a big organization to run? I immediately wanted to make a Diplomat firmly there for you. Somebody you could hand the keys to the entire Inquisition to while you were out, and know it'd be in good hands. I also thought it'd be fun to have someone from Antiva, since that area wasn't covered yet by anyone in the cast. And I needed her to be polished, smooth, but heartfelt, because of that aforementioned trust. And that was the core of Josephine! Her voice actor, Allegra, brought her to life with such lovely charm, and hearing those early sessions also helped me further hone her tone." [source, two, three, four]

"Our music supervisor Ron Dazo hit it out of the park with Emmrich's music IMO. And so glad you liked Hezenkoss! Just very fun to write as a character." [source]

User: "Did any specific watcher raise MW Rook?" / Sylvia: "Good question! I kind of left that one alone because I wasn't sure if I wanted to let Rook define that themselves, or leave it open, and also I'd have wanted a full conversation on it. In the end that was a little out of scope so I left it unsaid. Which is to say that it COULD be Vorgoth who helped raise your Rook. And that stands until/unless we give a definitive answer (or let you choose from a range of answers) one day." [source, two]

"It was such a pleasure for all of us to finally get to explore the Necropolis, I am very glad we got to throw open the gates." [source]

User: "I was wondering if there were any Mourn Watch details you wished you had more time to explore? I was so struck by some of the ethical implications in your stories" / Sylvia: "Geeze, now that's a question. I mention it with Emmrich, but there's some resentment over the power the Watchers hold as THE mortalitasi of the Grand Necropolis, between them and the other orders. There's something to that situation I liked. There's also questions of how they select people for the order. What their standards are, how closely they work with benign spirits. And how they cultivate those relationships. How deep does that go? I also mentioned in a codex "the lives and bodies of those who tamper with the undead of the Necropolis are forfeit unto the Mourn Watch." which is pretty chilling. What's that punishment like, exactly? And in general, writing about anything weird or unexplained in the Necropolis brought me much enjoyment, and it would be fun to dig around how the Mourn Watch deals with (or what they want out of) all these mysteries and entities." [source, two, three, four]

"Geeking out with Emmrich about spooky stuff was a delight to write." [source]

"I liked writing someone older this time, it was something different for me and rewarding in some unexpectedly different ways. (And thanks especially for the nice words on DAtDM - I was very excited to introduce people to the Mourn Watch there!)" [source]

"Ah, tomb-script. I named it but it was our concept artists who went developed it with the hexagon shape-language of the Mourn Watch, which I loved. Conceptually: I think it's used purely an occult or sacred language. Something for the graves, or books on magic, but not everyday things." [source]

"Some trans people kindly offered their help with some feedback on some of the romance lines and others, which absolutely made them much better." [source]

"Trick Weekes actually wrote a ton of the banter where Emmrich inquires into qunari artifacts and customs, and Taash talks about what it was like to grow up under a scholar. I really dig the dynamic they unearthed between the two there." [source]

User: "Do you remember what was written in the script to describe ✨this✨ moment? [link]" // Sylvia: "Lol. I miiiiiight? Let me look at my notes. Ah hah, I do! My note says that Emmrich "takes a second, surprised." And then he's touched afterwards." [source, two]

Sylvia: ""i hope it's not too late, but were there any designs in mind for what Nevarra City looks like?" Not too late! We've got a few sketches in the World of Thedas books, but that's it. If the team ever went back to Nevarra City proper, I'd imagine the art team would want to do a deeper dive." [source]

Sylvia: "(Glad you liked Myrna in particular. My first Mourn Watcher everyone got to know!)" [source]

Sylvia: "I'm glad to hear getting to know Emmrich has been of some comfort." [source]

[thievinghippo]

Is there anything worse than writing a self-evaluation at work when your entire philosophy is to do just enough not to get fired?

Some whining behind the cut

I wasn't always like this! I used to regularly get 'exceeds expectations' on reviews. But when the CEO of my company tells me that my job is to put more money in the pockets of our owners and when the difference between a 'met all' and 'exceeds' is fucking eleven cents an hour, one loses all motivation

I miss the days of actually giving a shit but those days are long gone

Now all I care about is protecting my direct reports from as much BS as I can and I'm probably failing at that too

Whelp. Manfred is right. That's maudlin enough. Anyone want to have tea with me in the Necropolis? Might make me feel better lol

[hot-mess-choices]

Davrin: So, how do the Shadow Dragons operate exactly?

Rook: What do you mean?

Davrin: Who are their leaders? Who decides what jobs you take?

Rook: Hm… doesn’t work like that.

Davrin: Then how?

Rook: We help the people who need our help.

Davrin: But how do they contact you? What do you… ugh, you know what, forget about it.

~~~

Bellara: What’s it like living in Minrathous? It must be exciting to be in a city with that much magic all the time.

Rook: If you’re a wealthy mage, sure, as an elf born into slavery, not so much.

Bellara: Mythal'enaste, I am so sor-

Rook: I’m messing with you. Minrathous is pretty great. You know, if you don’t think too hard about the corruption and the blood magic.

Bellara: … are you still joking.

Rook: Eh, mostly.

~~~

Neve: So, how do you know Ashur?

Rook: Oh we go way back, freed me when I was a slave, noticed I was good with a knife, did the whole mentor thing.

Neve: Really? The Viper going soft on a little elven girl?

Rook: Oh he never went soft on me, he just reluctantly accepted that he was stuck with me. Says I have that charm where I grow on people like a cyst.

Neve: That does sound a lot more like him.

~~~

Lucanis: Rook, about the spices you asked for…

Rook: The peppers? What about them?

Lucanis: Are you sure they are safe to eat? When I asked Viago to look for them at the market he said that he usually only buys them for one of his poisons.

Rook: Huh, I thought they were just an acquired taste…

Lucanis: Mierda…

~~~

Harding: My mom sent you her regards in her last letter.

Rook: Aww, thanks, how’s she doing.

Harding: You know her, always an optimist.

Rook: We need more of those. And more of her cookies. And I have a bunch of clothes that need mending when we visit her again.

Harding: Hey, is she my mom or yours?

Rook: It’s not my fault. She’s really good at mothering.

~~~

Davrin: So the Shadow Dragons work with some of the Magisters?

Rook: No. Some of the Magisters work with the Shadow Dragons.

Davrin: Isn’t that the same thing?

Rook: It’s not.

Davrin: sigh… I hate Tevinter politics

Rook: Now you’re getting it!

~~~

Rook: Neve, I’ve been thinking, do you run background checks on your clients?

Neve: It would be a pretty big risk not to.

Rook: So when you first worked with the Viper-

Neve: Absolutely not!

Rook: You don’t even know what I was gonna ask!

Neve: I am not giving you dirt on Ashur.

Rook: Spoilsport.

~~~

Emmrich: Rook, without wanting to sound accusatory… did you teach Manfred how to ahem flip the bird?

Rook: … it was an accident

Emmrich: An accident?

Rook: He kept beating me in rock, paper, scissors… I’m sorry

~~~

Taash: I know it’s you.

Rook: Hm?

Taash: You keep giving Assan those extra truffles, I can smell them in your pockets.

Rook: … please don’t tell Davrin?

Taash: Hmm…

Rook: I can put in a good word for you with Harding!

Taash: Hmm…

Rook: And do the dishes for a week?

Taash: Two weeks.

Rook: Deal!

~~~

Rook: I’m sorry about the Stew again, I didn’t think it would end up that spicy.

Emmrich: It’s my own fault really, I should have been suspicious when Taash was the only one eating it.

Rook: And sorry about finishing all the milk earlier that day…

Emmrich: Yes, that was rather unfortunate.

~~~

Rook: Hey Lucanis, any idea why Spite keeps bringing all the forks to my room?

Lucanis: Forks? I don’t-

Spite: Eat fish. Vints like it. Neve does!

Rook: Aw, that’s actually sweet, I think.

[heroofshield]

getting dressed up in fancy outfits together.

part two of prompts that have become connected. Here's part one and part three.

also we were robbed of a fancy dress party at the Dellamorte estate

@anderfels @vorchagirl

--

The invitation to the party at the Dellamorte Estate said that the party was to celebrate Lucanis becoming First Talon, but they all knew that it was also to celebrate the downfall of the gods and saving Thedas.

Nothing said 'we survived certain destruction' like throwing a fancy dress party.

Zea had never been to such an event, but knew that there'd be dancing. Unfortunately, the few steps that Bellara had tried to teach her had only resulted in tripping over each other and giggling more than anything.

"I wonder if I can fake an illness and get out of going." she wondered while sitting on her bed, staring at the dress Teia had helped her pick out ("You can dance and easily fight in it if needed!") while idly picking at the sheet with her fingers. "That way I won't embarrass myself in front of everyone."

"Darling, would you mind terribly if you help with these cufflinks?" Emmrich walked into Zea's chamber, trying to work a cufflink into the shirtsleeve and not quite being able to. "I'd ask Manfred but he's-" he cut off when he saw Zea sitting on the bed in a white shift with a hoop skirt attached to her waist, the gold and glittery dress still hanging up. "You're not dressed yet?"

"Hmm?" Zea tore herself out of her thoughts to turn and face Emmrich. "I'm...not feeling well."

Emmrich frowned, putting the cuff links in his waistcoat pocket before striding across the short distance to where she was. Gently pressing the back of his hand to her forehead, he was silent for a moment before saying, "You don't feel warm."

Zea briefly considered trying a different lie, but knew he'd only call for Neve or Bellara to double-check and she didn't want to involve them in her deception. "I...don't really want to go."

"Why not, my dear?" Emmrich asked, sitting down next to Zea on the bed, getting ready for the party put to the back of his mind. "You were looking forwards to it a few days ago."

"That's before I realized there would be dancing. You saw me with Bellara that one time. I was only able to do it with you because...it's you." Zea avoided Emmrich's gaze and scuffed her toes against the stone floor. "I...just don't want to ruin this for Lucanis. It's as much his night as well."

"Zea." Emmrich gently tipped her chin up with a finger so she'd have to look at him. "You won't ruin it, I promise. I've been to these things before and trust me, you might so busy talking to all the well-wishers that you'll forget to dance."

"And if someone does ask me?"

"Then I'll step in and whisk you away to a balcony." Emmrich felt the familiar butterflies in his stomach when a slight smile appeared on her face.

"I'll hold you to that. Now let me help you with those cuff links." Zea held out her palm and Emmrich fished them out of his pocket, inwardly glad that he'd been able to change her mind.

"Now in the interest of time, do you need help with yours?" Emmrich replied once his cuff links were on and sleeves adjusted so that they hung just so.

Zea shook her head, "Luckily I can get it on myself and it buttons up the front. But I appreciate the offer." she gave Emmrich a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll be ready to go in no time."

"I'll leave you to it then."

--

Half an hour later Emmrich is standing by the Eluvian with Lucanis, Taash, and Davrin, wondering how much longer the rest were going to be. "The party started ten minutes ago." he thought while smoothing down his jacket for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"Sorry! There was a minor dress emergency!" Bellara exclaimed as her, Neve, and Zea all appeared in the doorway. "But we got it figured out!"

As they neared, Emmrich was aware of Bellara and Neve talking but the words didn't process as he was busy staring at Zea. The gown fit her perfectly; the gold fabric shining brightly against her amber skin, hugging her waist and then expanding over the hoop skirt. Her hair sparkled as it caught the light from the Eluvian and he saw silver hairpieces with jewels dangling from them wound around strands of hair, so that whenever she turned they caught the available light. The rest of her jewelry was gold studded with jewels and as she stopped near him, he saw multiple thin rings on all her fingers. "Almost like she's mirrored my own."

Only when Zea stared at him did he realize that she had said something and was waiting for an answer. Letting out an embarrassed cough, he said, "Sorry dearest, I was...distracted."

Zea smiled at the faint blush appearing on Emmrich's face, holding out an elbow for him to take, "I'm glad that I can still distract you. Shall we?"

[fool-counter]

March 23, 9:42 PM

International Departures

Gate 12

Where are you going... Franziska?

von Karma:

...! How did you know I was here...?

Edgeworth:

With this.

von Karma:

That's...

Edgeworth:

I heard you were planting things on a certain person. Things like tracking devices in his coat, for example.

von Karma:

Hmph. That's just like you. I only planted it there because he was always wearing it. This... filthy, drab coat of his... I don't know how it ended up in my luggage. But it's going in the trash, I promise you that.

Edgeworth:

Oh, that's right... Speaking of that man... He told me something very interesting.

Gumshoe:

When I ran off with the things from De Killer's hideout... I was sure I took 4 things total, sir.

von Karma:

Four items...?

Edgeworth:

It seems he put the last one in his coat pocket.

von Karma:

He put it in here...? ... It doesn't matter anymore. The case is already over.

Edgeworth:

... What are you going to do now?

Edgeworth:

... What are you going to do now?

von Karma:

... That's none of your business.

Edgeworth:

Are you running away?

von Karma:

Shut up! You don't understand a thing! You can't possibly understand what it means to be "Manfred von Karma's daughter"!

Edgeworth:

Franziska...

von Karma:

So many expectations from everyone around me... Expectations I must fulfill! I'm expected to win no matter what. And failure? Such a thing is not an option for me! My father was a genius. There's no doubt about that! But... But me... I'm no genius. I've always known that.[D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:]

Edgeworth:

...

von Karma:

But I... I had to be one. I had to.[D:D:D:D:D:D:D:]

Edgeworth:

... You may not be a genius like your father... But... You are a prosecutor. You have been and always will be.

von Karma:

...! No, I'm not... Not anymore. I've even thrown my whip away.

Edgeworth:

Speaking of that... Wright gave me this to hold onto. (Wright... You knew something like this would happen, didn't you...?)

von Karma:

...

Edgeworth:

I'm going to say this again. We prosecutors do not fight for personal honor or pride. I hope you will think deeply... About what you should be striking down with that whip.

von Karma:

... You haven't changed a bit... You've always... You've always left me alone and walked on ahead without me. Miles Edgeworth... I've always hated you.

Edgeworth:

...

von Karma:

And then... Finally, my chance to take my revenge on you arrived. If I could win against that man... If I could make Phoenix Wright bow down in defeat... Then this "girl" you left behind would have risen higher than you! That was supposed to be my "revenge"...

Edgeworth:

I see...

von Karma:

... You know, I can't do it... I can't change who I am. I can't throw away everything I've been until today.

Edgeworth:

I believe you can. Just like how Adrian Andrews did.

von Karma:

Adrian Andrews...?

Edgeworth:

You were going to use her during the trial, right? But you... You were "dependant" on your father by using his tactics. Isn't that right?

von Karma:

Hmph!

Edgeworth:

Today, you chased after me, after I had left you behind all these years. And that's why we're standing here now, side by side.

von Karma:

...!

Edgeworth:

But I have no intention of stopping. If you say you are going to quit your walk down the prosecutor's path... ... Then, this is where we part ways, Franziska von Karma.

von Karma:

... I... I... I am Franziska von Karma. Don't think I'm going to walk in your shadow forever... Our battle... begins now... so you had better prepare yourself, Miles Edgeworth!

Phoenix Wright... One day... Someday... I'm sure we'll meet again in battle. Until then... This last piece of evidence that never made it to you... I'll take good care of this fourth piece... So I can give it to you... when at last we meet again...

March 23, 9:42 PM

International Departures

Gate 12

Where are you going... Franziska?

von Karma:

...! How did you know I was here...?

Edgeworth:

With this.

von Karma:

That's...

Edgeworth:

I heard you were planting things on a certain person. Things like tracking devices in his coat, for example.

von Karma:

Hmph. That's just like you. I only planted it there because he was always wearing it. This... filthy, drab coat of his... I don't know how it ended up in my luggage. But it's going in the trash, I promise you that.

Edgeworth:

Oh, that's right... Speaking of that man... He told me something very interesting.

Gumshoe:

When I ran off with the things from De Killer's hideout... I was sure I took 4 things total, sir.

von Karma:

Four items...?

Edgeworth:

It seems he put the last one in his coat pocket.

von Karma:

He put it in here...? ... It doesn't matter anymore. The case is already over.

Edgeworth:

... What are you going to do now?

Edgeworth:

... What are you going to do now?

von Karma:

... That's none of your business.

Edgeworth:

Are you running away?

von Karma:

Shut up! You don't understand a thing! You can't possibly understand what it means to be "Manfred von Karma's daughter"!

Edgeworth:

Franziska...

von Karma:

So many expectations from everyone around me... Expectations I must fulfill! I'm expected to win no matter what. And failure? Such a thing is not an option for me! My father was a genius. There's no doubt about that! But... But me... I'm no genius. I've always known that.[D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:]

Edgeworth:

...

von Karma:

But I... I had to be one. I had to.[D:D:D:D:D:D:D:]

Edgeworth:

... You may not be a genius like your father... But... You are a prosecutor. You have been and always will be.

von Karma:

...! No, I'm not... Not anymore. I've even thrown my whip away.

Edgeworth:

Speaking of that... Wright gave me this to hold onto. (Wright... You knew something like this would happen, didn't you...?)

von Karma:

...

Edgeworth:

I'm going to say this again. We prosecutors do not fight for personal honor or pride. I hope you will think deeply... About what you should be striking down with that whip.

von Karma:

... You haven't changed a bit... You've always... You've always left me alone and walked on ahead without me. Miles Edgeworth... I've always hated you.

Edgeworth:

...

von Karma:

And then... Finally, my chance to take my revenge on you arrived. If I could win against that man... If I could make Phoenix Wright bow down in defeat... Then this "girl" you left behind would have risen higher than you! That was supposed to be my "revenge"...

Edgeworth:

I see...

von Karma:

... You know, I can't do it... I can't change who I am. I can't throw away everything I've been until today.

Edgeworth:

I believe you can. Just like how Adrian Andrews did.

von Karma:

Adrian Andrews...?

Edgeworth:

You were going to use her during the trial, right? But you... You were "dependant" on your father by using his tactics. Isn't that right?

von Karma:

Hmph!

Edgeworth:

Today, you chased after me, after I had left you behind all these years. And that's why we're standing here now, side by side.

von Karma:

...!

Edgeworth:

But I have no intention of stopping. If you say you are going to quit your walk down the prosecutor's path... ... Then, this is where we part ways, Franziska von Karma.

von Karma:

... I... I... I am Franziska von Karma. Don't think I'm going to walk in your shadow forever... Our battle... begins now... so you had better prepare yourself, Miles Edgeworth!

Phoenix Wright... One day... Someday... I'm sure we'll meet again in battle. Until then... This last piece of evidence that never made it to you... I'll take good care of this fourth piece... So I can give it to you... when at last we meet again...

fool count: 22

I really should have destroyed that coat when I had the chance. now all of tumblr knows about this foolish conversation...

[squadron-goals]

An encounter (by Emil August Glogau)

When I took the morning train from Frankfurt to Berlin at the end of September, a young Uhlan officer nimbly jumped onto the departing train in Gotha, threw his hunting rifle into the luggage net of the compartment I was sitting in, pulled his coat collar up over his chin, made himself comfortable in his seat and was immediately asleep. At the station I had bought the recently published “Der Rote Kampfflieger” but I had put it right into the luggage net next to my buttered breads because I had more interest in my sleeping neighbour. How can someone fall asleep so easily? Who is able to train their will in such a way that the boundary between wakefulness and sleep can be crossed so easily? This young man must have a strong energy, I thought to myself, but his clean-shaven schoolboy face gave a different impression. Didn´t the blond youth look around out of good-natured blue eyes when he boarded the train? How deliberate and determined were his movements, how powerful his grasp of the rifle? The square head and strong jawline belonged to a eastern German Junker. But how did the lines of resignation from the cheekbone to the chin fit into this motionless face? Had the war dug the furrows in this young lieutenant's face? Only then do I see the two stars on his epaulettes. Rittmeister? Rittmeister at twenty, twenty-four at the most? Well – entered in Gotha - Thuringian principalities - flashes of awards under his coat collar - a prince, then. Then the eyes opened as suddenly as they had closed before, focused on my luggage net and shone as if they say saw something that made him very happy. The „prince“ seemed to be hungry, I thought, maybe you can offer him one of your breads? „Is there a dining car?“ he asked. „Unfortunately not, but may I offer you a buttered bread, I caught your look and was hesitating whether or not to offer”. He then laughed out loud, blushed like a first-time published author, took a bite of my bread and replied, "Oh no, I looked at the book. I get such a kick out of the fact that every traveler buys one of these things. You see..." - pointing to the people waiting at the railway station in Weimar - all "red fighter pilots”. I beginn to understand, reach for the book, open the cover and now know that I am sitting face to face with the red fighter pilot himself, Manfred Freiherr von Richthofen. „Have you read it already?“ he asked me. I denied. „Well, better leave it! Because I cannot write, I can only fly and shoot and run my mouth a little about whatever comes to mind“. And so he then told me, with eloquent lips that have now closed forever, about his adventures in the skies until we arrived in Berlin. I could fill a book with it, but this book is already filled by himself, but I wish I had the ability to give an account of the boyish freshness of this famous daredevil, the bubbly mentality of this child of nature and the soldierly simplicity of this Silesian nobleman. “I´m just a fighter pilot,” he said, “but Boelcke, he was a hero.” He buttoned his coat so that the people wouldn´t stare at his Pour le mérite. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a telegram. “Look, isn´t it nice of the Kaiser, he telegraphs to congratulate me on my sixtieths victory: ‘Now rest for a while.’ I was invited on a hunt at Schloss Reinhardsbrunn by the Herzog von Koburg-Gotha, and now I´ll meet up with my brother Lothar in Berlin. Sadly, Moritz isn´t with me. Moritz? That's my Great Dane, he has to be with me everywhere. Sometimes I even take him up in the air. Do you know Berlin? Yes? Great! Then you have to show us around a bit, we don´t know it and have no acquaintances there. Just once, I visited the Kaiser but he isn´t there now.

By the way, a nice thing happened to me once: I was driving with a lady, like we are now, and I gave here a lift in my pre-ordered car when there was a great shortage of cars. Of course, I had my shotgun with me, as always, because there's nothing like a hunting, is there? The lady had two sons as volunteers in the field and made mocking remarks: Of course, you officers, you have time for hunting while my brave boys have to lie in the trenches'. I told her: 'I always hunt, I do nothing else, day and night'. She replied that it was a scandal that I was proud of it. When we reached her house and before I drove off, I called after her: 'I hope you will soon read again about my hunting successes. I am Manfred von Richthofen.' You should have seen her face." We arrived in Berlin; when we said goodbye, he asked me if I could take some time off around Christmas. He would be taking a long holiday and he could meet me then. “Ah no,” he interrupted himself, “I can´t promise that… Well, you know, I´m probably due now. After all, the English have put out a huge bounty on my head for a long time." He clicked his heels together and waved at me again from the crowd. For me, it was to be his last greeting. Now he has moved into Valhalla.

[im-smart-i-swear]

HELLO!

HAVE THIS MANFRED AS A FAIRY TO BRING YOU GOOD LUCK!

HOW ARE YOU?

HOPE YOU HAD A GOOD DAY!

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO PRECIOUS I AM TAKING HIM AND PUTTING HIM IN MY POCKET<33333333

i'm doing fine, thank you for asking<3 long time no see, how have you been? Glad to see you again in my inbox:]

[mistressandry]

Expeditions and Expectations ⛺

———— Rook and Harding take their new friend Emmrich camping.

the most vanilla shit you've ever seen ⎮ 7k ⎮ AO3 link ————

Day 1

“Right…” Harding slapped the top of her rucksack to verify its integrity. “All ready to go?”

She turned around to see an eager, yet haphazardly packed Rook and far too clean Emmrich, fretting over last minute necessities with Manfred.

“Oh, but.. maybe I was too hasty in getting rid of the letter opener—”

“Emmrich.” Harding snapped, making his shoulders jolt up, caught trying his luck. “It’s two nights! Your letters can wait!”

“We also have like.. so many knives”, Rook chimed in an attempt to help. This tangent that didn’t actually address the overpacking issue at hand, but was much more interesting to her. “So many weapons in general! Axe, daggers. Bet we could even carve you a letter opener!” she continued, though she didn’t seem to expect a response.

Harding watched as Emmrich’s pristine posture deflated with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, Harding. I just wanted to get this right! I’m so grateful and filled with excitement to ‘rough it up’ with you two in the great outdoors. But such activities aren't in my usual repertoire, and I’m afraid I might be foolishly trying to overcompensate for inexperience.”

Harding’s stern expression softened into a smile. At least he was aware of it!

“You’ve been too good at too many things for too long. It’s only natural for you to get a bit antsy.”

“Aren’t academics supposed to be comfortable with learning new things though?” Rook added, in her continued less-than-successful attempts to help.

Emmrich looked down at her in doe-eyed, devastated shock. “Oh, please don’t make this worse. Insights into my prideful failings as a scholar are not appreciated at this time.”

The two dwarven ladies immediately looked at each other with glee, unable to stifle a few giggles at the fancy man’s pathetic words. Everything was so promising. They couldn’t wait to see the professor so outside his usual areas of expertise.

Harding smiled up at him. “Oh, Emmrich.. it’s not that bad! You’re excited and that’s a good thing! I know it’s been a while, but you can handle being a novice for a few days.”

“If you want to experience camping, the Inquisitor’s top scout’s the one to do it with. No one can put a tent up as fast as Harding!” The other dwarf reassured him.

“Exactly! And Rook will probably be able to keep you alive while I’m away”.

Rook gave him a thumbs up and wink. It was a bit much, but the intention was there! Their efforts seemingly paid off as Emmrich gave in. “Perhaps I don’t have to do everything perfectly.” “Oh Maker, no.” Rook exclaimed, visibly terrified at the concept.

“That’s the spirit! But we're losing daylight. Can I trust you’re able to carry your bags?” Harding asked so kindly you could barely hear the smugness in her one-rucksack needing voice. That’s including the tent.

“Of course! I am nothing if not independent!” the professor asserted, only slightly struggling to take an assortment of gilded bags from Manfred. Though Emmrich was a bit rattled, Harding knew her new friend wasn’t going to let a little embarrassment keep him from new adventures.

“Manfred! Please make sure to accurately store all my correspondences. Keep track of your tasks in the itinerary and don’t get too rowdy!”

His ward hissed gleefully as he scurried off with the letter opener.

While Rook bent down to hoist up her things, she complimented Emmrich’s creative use of the side pockets on his rucksack.

“I brought a few field guides for our expedition!” Emmrich explained, “I’ve heard such lovely things about the local flora in the Frostback Mountains, and I thought to cross reference them to their Nevarran varieties.” “That’s cute! I’ve got a few books with me too. It’s been a while, but I could vaguely help you with plants in the area.”

“That would be most delightful!” He lit up clapping his hands together as he was one to do. Seemingly wary of their eyes on him, the giddy man gathered himself, announced he was ready, and began walking towards Harding and their exit. Rook patted down her pockets with a look of amusement. Emmrich was fun!

“Pretty, sure I’m good to go too!” Rook called out to Harding.

“Packed all the essentials?”

“Toilet paper? Yes.” 

“Then let’s move out!” The trio walked through the Lighthouse’s eluvian and into the Crossroads. Harding was used to Rook’s various loose tools creating a ruckus, but it paled in comparison to the cacophony of jingling coming from their newest colleague. Each step was scored by a symphony of metal singing and colliding with each other. “I’m never taking you two on a heist” she teased, which was met with shocked offense and excuses. “We could be SO stealthy if we wanted to!” Rook contested, defending herself and her fellow slander victim. That they had allerted more elven constructs than usual was apparently unrelated.

After an hour of travel, feigned indignation and a significant dent in their snack inventory, they reached their next destination. As they passed through the final eluvian and into the greenery of Ferelden, Harding asked Rook, “Just like old times?”

“Like we never left.”

After a moment of silence Rook hurriedly added:

“Alright, there might have been slightly less Blight back then.”

“Just a smidge.” ———— It was mid-day when they stepped out into the small and aged elven shrine, nestled in the cliffside just above the tree line of the Frostback Mountains. If Harding squinted and deluded herself enough, she could swear Lake Calenhad was on the horizon. The remnants of a descending path had eroded over the millennia, but were easily overcome by light stone shaping and gentlemanly hands offering support over the larger jumps. Having left their armour back at the Lighthouse, the trio were sprier than usual.

Rook looked particularly more lively as she jumped along a rocky outcrop, even though they had made it down to a comfortable game path. “You must feel light as anything without your armour and hammer,” Emmrich mused as a challenging leap had Rook furrowing her brow and sticking her tongue out for top-tier concentration. 

“You can say that again! Not to mention the weight of responsibilities. I’m off-duty!”.

“Hey!” Harding playfully exclaimed. “You’re not off that easy! You’ve got very important tasks.” “Yeah, yeah, but these are things I’d happily do anyway: Take care of the camp and keep Emmrich alive.”

“Please…”, Emmrich prayed looking up to the sky in desperation.

“We’re basically the hired help!” Rook added before jumping down with a hefty thud. ”Oh no, I sure hope we don’t have to do any whimsical exploring!”

Harding continued forward with a smile on her face. “Heaven forbid.”

They wandered some more looking for a place to set camp. Harding surveyed the topography and consulted her maps, Rook mined whacking enemies and dangerous trees with her axe, and Emmrich trailed behind, drenching himself in fresh air.

Nice as the Lighthouse was, it was refreshing to have reliable, non-floating ground under their feet. The next few days promised rest, reflection and levity. Even though Harding would have to work, this was still her home and her bedrock. A return to her basics, with friends old and new. She wanted to see Rook unwind and was desperate to see what “letting loose” looked like for Emmrich.

Harding’s bag hit the ground with a thud. “Perfect! This’ll do nicely.” Rook and Emmrich nodded in approval.

“Yep.” Rook affirmed. “Good trees. Great branch. Nice brook.” Rook helped Harding set up the tent. You could tell which knots were Rook’s and which were Harding’s. In between jabs, they kept eagerly glancing over at Emmrich as he reshuffled his essentials: Several sets of clothing, the infamous shaving kit, alchemical bowls, plant samples... He’d brought a lot but been surprisingly compact!

“How many books did you get him down to?” Rook whispered.

“Five!! I was quite proud of myself.”

They pulled at the ropes and gave the tarp a big thwack to finalise the tent. To account for their esteemed guest, they had even propped up a lean-to for.. pondering? The women weren’t quite sure, but it felt like the sort of a thing a senior necromancer would enjoy.

Their instincts proved correct, as he already started placing various knick knacks under it. Mysteries abound as to where he’d managed to store that quilted blanket.

The blanket made a comfortable place to sit as Harding passed around her pre-prepared sandwiches for lunch. Emmrich whipped out a teapot.

“This is really good!” Rook declared between scoffage. “It really is remarkable how a bit of jam can elevate the palette”.

Harding blushed but warmly welcomed her friends’ approval.

“I’ve got to start heading out soon. Didn’t note anything dangerous in the immediate area—”

”Aside from the bears?” Rook chimed in, careful not to let Emmrich see her grin.

“Oh, I only saw tracks for two or three of them around here.” Emmrich’s look of horror shifted into narrowed eyes and a slight frown.

“But beyond those very real concerns, we’ll be alright to conduct ourselves freely?” he grumbled.

“Yeah! You should be able to explore to your heart’s content.”

“Excellent!”

“Just try to keep screaming and fires to a minimum.” It was Rook’s turn to narrow her eyes and frown. “Fine..”

Harding unhooked a smaller kit from her rucksack and convened with Rook on the points of interest she’d be scoping out. Rook promised to save Harding some dinner and wished her luck.

“You’re quite sure she’ll be alright out there?” Emmrich asked Rook.

“Of course! She’s an expert scout and you’ve heard her.. Daughter of Titans.”

————

Warm sunlight dappled the mossy forest floor as Rook and Emmrich admired another flower for his collection. Rook tried to recall its name for her studious companion.

“Thaaat.. is a Lily of the Valley! No, shoot, it’s.. it’s closely related to it. Mostly grow on cliffs? Look it up in your book!”

Emmrich excitedly flipped through the pages, bangles jangling upon success. “Aha! I’ve found it! Solomon’s Seal.” 

“That’s the one! I’m not sure what medicinal uses it could have, but it is quite pretty.”

Emmrich carefully placed the flower in his designated plant sample satchel. Rook’s eyes roved the forest floor for the next hit of dopamine. She’d given him the pinecone with tiny mushrooms on it. Pointed out the very cool lichen formation on a boulder. Found some really interesting scat and explained what could be deduced from it. It was nice having someone enthusiastically involved in this part of her life. It was nice to bond outside of destruction. There!

“This one’s called… fox.. bread…” Fuck did she hate not remembering official terms in a field she was supposedly good in. At least Rook and Emmrich had settled into a solid groove with her giving hazy details on a specimen, and him finding it  in his field guides within two seconds.

“Something vaguely related to the words ‘fox’ and ‘bread’! Basically a clover but that’s not the important bit. Taste it!”

Emmrich smiled and didn’t waste a second taking the plant from her outstretched hand and placing it in his mouth. Rook munched on her own collection while staring intently, eager for his reaction. He regarded everything so genuinely.

“My! What a delightfully sharp flavour…”

“It’s something to do with the acids in it. Goes well in a salad!”  ———— The sky dimmed and the campfire crackled as a chill began to set.

Rook offered Emmrich some of her peppermint liquor. “It’ll keep you warm.”

She’d handed him many new things that day, and each was cheerfully accepted. Taking a swig from her flask, Emmrich began forming the words to thank his travelling companions for humoring him as a guest on this trip. “Rook, I wanted to thank you for being so accommodating.”

“Don't sweat it.” She interrupted before he went further. “This is much more for my benefit. I needed to get away from it all and Harding knew it.”

Emmrich raised his eyebrow in concern, returning the flask. He did not fill the silence, instead waiting for her to continue. Rook flicked at embers along the edge of the fire with her expertly sharpened stick. 

“Truth be told, approved leadership has avoided me all my life. I'm pretty sure Varric appointed me on a fluke. He would have given the same pep talk to any chump who happened to be about. Use his words to mold them into the person he needed. I just happened to be in the vicinity. Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing here. What I’m contributing..” 

He could not comment on the intentions of a fallen compatriot he’d never met, but her words sounded like the harsh internal thoughts of a heavy heart and a tired mind.

Continuing her monologue, she chuckled, ”But! even if I don’t believe in myself anymore, I'm not giving up my shot just yet.”

“When I left Redcliffe I thought I'd be able to make a name for myself. Influence our history. Uncover our past. A bit hard for a surfacer, obviously! Maker, the way my mom and her dad would talk about Orzammar.. It was hard not to want that connection. But what have I truly accomplished? Harding’s made more of an impact than I ever did. Stone save me, she spent years with Dagna and is on a last name basis with the Inquisitor. And now... Now this.”

Now this was a feeling Emmrich was well acquainted with. “I can empathise basing your value on external standards of accomplishment.” He revealed, careful not to share too many of his insecurities.

Rook smiled and looked at her flask. Silence set again.

“Did you know she can dream now..?” She said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

Over his decades of research on the Fade, he had wondered about the psychological impact caused by a race being completely disconnected from it. Learning that the lyrium dagger in their possession was the tool and that Solas was the perpetrator for this severance had certainly brought it top of mind again. Especially with the revelation that those severed Titan souls had morphed into the Blight. The prospect of reconnecting the tranquilized Titans with some kind of purified blight... Perhaps there were some papers he could revisit? Another day. Potential research and unsubstantiated promises were not what Rook needed right now. She needed a tether.

"You're not missing out on much. Mine are usually just about being chased by a faceless specter." Emmrich shared, attempting to make her feel less alone.

"Vorgoth?"

"Hush!" His bracelets jingling as he instinctively smacked her with a chuckle. 

Rook’s demeanour lightened as she poked at some charcoal. She looked over at him with a smile and a shrug. "I just need some time to get out of my head. Forget the task at hand and return to my foundations. I am more than happy with your added company!"

Emmrich was thrilled for verbal confirmation that he wasn't making a fool of himself out here. 

"Rook, your enthusiasm and care for others is infectious. I may preach the study of the unknown, but in my personal life I am a creature of habit held back by fears of external perceptions. I've travelled more around Thedas in the past month, than I have the past decade, gaining a treasure trove of experiences. I can not speak for the past intentions of others, but thus far your curiosity and compassion have been the best guide I could hope for. I think you've got what it takes."

Visibly flustered, Rook momentarily struggled to reply. "You’re a very kind man, but I have to wonder how much that liquor is sweetening your words!”

Emmrich scoffed at the deflection and implication. "I could drink you under the table.” Remembering the contents of his bags he happily added “However, I did bring some sherry should we run out."

————

The stars were out and their tent had long since blended into the dead of night. Harding discreetly opened the flap and slinked in without a sound.

“Boo!”

"Shitfuc—” Harding’s head flew up, narrowly managing to not bring the whole tent down. Heart recovering from the scare and eyes adjusting to the darkness, she could now see Rook sitting up wrapped in a blanket. Emmrich continued his slumber, apparently none the wiser.

“...Couldn't sleep?"

"Naah.” Rook replied at a more appropriate volume “Get into any trouble?"

"Not too badly! Blight's getting worse, but I managed to find an Avvar camp I can report to Cadash." The warmth of the tent and Harding’s friend were a welcome relief after the chill of the night. She’d been out longer than expected, but achieved results.

"One’s better than none! Left some now-cold stew by your roll."

"Thanks, Aldwir." Harding said, desperate for proper food, regardless of temperature.

"What kind of hired help would I be otherwise?" Rook teased.

As Harding slurped away at her meal, Rook caught her eye and nodded towards the sleeping professor's legs.

"... I miss Varric."

Harding giggled, reminiscing over the advantages of an all dwarf party.

"We did use to have decidedly more leg room with us three." “How was he?” Harding asked mid-chew, with some concern, but mostly just interest in Emmrich’s potential camping antics.

“He's like a very smart puppy. Kept me company. I showed him good rocks.”

“Highest caliber, I’m sure.”

“I’m not an animal.” Rook assured, laying her back on her mattress, while Harding finished her meal. Bowl emptied and discreetly placed at the end of the tent, Harding scooched over to Rook, gave her a kiss on the forehead before snuggling up in her sleeping bag. Rook let out a light-headed sigh. "Minrathous wasn't your fault, Rook."

"... Yeah..." Rook replied begrudgingly. Harding wasn’t convinced her friend believed it.

Emmrich shifted and muttered in his sleep.

"... He brought a nightgown." Rook revealed, in a familiar attempt to change the subject.

"He did not." Harding jeered.

"And a little hat."

Harding shot up to squint past Rook at their intrepid adventurer's night time attire.

————

Day 2

Emmrich emerged from the tent, arms outstretched mid-yawn. The pompom at the tip of his hat jolted at an unexpected greeting. 

“Goooood morning, Professor!”

“Harding!” He cheered, placing a delicate hand on his chest. “What a relief. I must admit, I was quite worried about you last night.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Had a little hiccup, but nothing I couldn't handle. I’m not some delicate lace!” She giggled, amused by her own pun. Emmrich cheerfully accepted a bowl of porridge and cup of tea she’d prepared.

“It was witless of me to cast doubt on your abilities. I should know better by now.” he replied with a light smile, adding a spoonful of jam and a pinch of salt. They sat together and watched as the early morning sunlight slowly awoke the forest.

“Nice slippers.” Harding noted.

“Why thank you! I acquired them from a delightful travelling vendor a few years ago.” Delighted by the interest, Emmrich went into great detail explaining the lining. Harding seemed very amused by his storytelling as she sipped her tea.

“So what’s on the itinerary for you two today?” Harding asked.

“We’re going on a hike!” Emmrich identified the correct map, found their location after a few moments of squinting, and began tracing his fingers along their planned route. “Rook spotted a promising path that’d take us higher up this mountain. With any luck the terrain will allow us to meet with the river that flows down towards us. We’ll then follow along the waters, until we reach the riverbank just north of here.”

Emmrich was glad to receive Harding’s nods of approval, while she scraped the final spoonfuls of her porridge. She wished she could go as well, but still had a few more locations to report on. Laying the map flat to show the larger area, Harding showed Emmrich where she’d been yesterday.

“I don’t like what I’m seeing down this direction, but over here wasn’t as bad as we’d expected,” Harding detailed, circling general areas and showing some of her initial notes. Emmrich listened as she explained how yesterday would inform her route choices. She proudly showed the mage where she’d been able to use her new stone shaping magic to avoid long detours.

“It’s all quite fascinating, Harding.” Emmrich proclaimed, thankful for the insights she was sharing with him. His studies had not required the practical application of such things and now he found himself lacking. While he hated looking foolish at his age, he still loved to learn and was grateful for kind teachers.

“I’m glad you think so! When me and Rook were younger, we’d run away for days to explore these kinds of parts of Ferelden. After all the travelling trying to find Solas.. It’s nice to be home.”

Emmrich felt fortunate he had been trusted with such a meaningful location to his new friends. “This is a special place. There is a magic to the nature and serenity of it all. Different from the peace I might usually find at the Necropolis.”

“I haven’t found the likes of it anywhere else!” Harding shared, loudly inhaling the crisp air, before tilting her head with a caveat. “Arlathan Forest did come close, but the birch trees were a bit too creepy.”

They sat and listened to the early morning bird songs.

“Right! I’m off.” Harding said, abruptly picking herself up and packing up her document pouch.

“So soon? Should we wake Rook before your departure?”

“Don’t you dare, Volkarin!” Harding playfully warned, while shuffling her bow on to her back. “She needs the rest. And you, my junior scout, can update her on my route.”

“I shan’t let you down, Scout Harding.” Emmrich vowed, already refiling his mental notes for best recollection access upon Rook’s stirring.

“Good man! I’ll be back earlier this time, I promise.”

Emmrich changed into more appropriate clothes, placed his quilt on an even surface and began his morning exercises with relish. The peaceful setting melted away anxieties and fears that had previously denied him new experiences. ———— Rook and Emmrich made their way higher up the mountain following a winding path. Still below the treeline, they went at a slow pace. It wasn’t for lack of energy, but because the two kept being distracted by plants, rock formations, passing squirrels and the scenery.

A beautiful pine with a low tree fork was practically begging to be climbed, and Rook would not deny it. Hands covered in sap and sticking to the loose bark, she yelled down to her companion from several branches above: “When was the last time you climbed a tree?”

Rook could only imagine his expression as he indignantly replied. “I'm 55 years old!”

She sighed and looked out wistfully towards the horizon. “People should climb trees more often…”

Her contemplation was interrupted by a slightly judgemental probe from below.

“Is this a Ferelden thing?”

For someone so seemingly kind, Emmrich could be quite bitchy! Aghast, she dropped the matter and herself shortly after, though her knees didn’t care for the impact. Rook wiped the sap off on her trousers.

Maybe it was the rings? Rook had clocked that Emmrich had removed most of his jewellery, opting to carry them in a cushioned embroidered purse instead. She still wasn’t sure how a grave dowry works, but loved the romance of the ritual, and she definitely wouldn’t be the reason said dowry got scratched. As they trundled along she noticed his lighter outdoor attire revealed even more gold around his neck. The loose collar suited him. If the joys of tree climbing didn’t interest Emmrich, Rook would have to find another topic.

“So what do you think? Natural, Avvar, or Dwarven?” She asked after some consideration.

“The path? I was wondering the same! Perhaps it is a combination of the three? We’ve found no real markers other than our cultural knowledge of the area.” Emmrich energetically replied.

Rook delighted and continued, “There could be carvings further up? Depending on how high this goes. Those would be more likely to stand the test of time, even in harsher conditions.”

This came dangerously close to proposing an extension to their route and after consulting the prickling in her thighs, Rook decided: No. Better to speculate about the cultural origins of the ancient path without an increased incline. For now at least.

Their perfectly adequate high vantage point helped Rook identify the perfect location for coupling up with the river. Before beginning their descent, they sat on the edge of their moss covered cliff for lunch. Rook kept an eye out for harts along the water to point out to Emmrich. A couple of fallen trees almost had her fooled.

She settled for pointing out various birds.

Suddenly aggravated, Emmrich began to rave about a swallow that had refused to leave his study. Hands in the air he described in animated detail how this bird had “besieged” his sanctuary for days on end. While visibly worked up about the incident, he would smile whenever Rook laughed. It was nice seeing him like this.

————

The melting ice from the mountains now rushed down the river in a brilliant blue. Sandstone had melted like butter under its weight, while granite stood fast and bit back at its aggressor. Millions of pebbles littered the river bed, broken off and smoothed out by the rushing waters polishing them against their kin.

Rook tasked Emmrich and herself with finding five really good pebbles and then “comparing notes”. She had tenuously convinced him this was in fact a Dwarven thing. Emmrich took his task very seriously, selecting pastel colors in interesting shapes, and a strikingly black and white specimen.

He turned around to find Rook precariously balancing on a rocky offshoot.

“Surely that surface is far too slippery? That algae looks slick as anything! What if you fall and hurt yourself?”

"It's fiiiine." Rook insisted, taking another step. She immediately slipped and fell into the water, bashing her body into the rock.

“I have new findings”, she croaked.

Emmrich rushed over to help and scold her, though she maintained she was fine and laughed it off.

Once they got back to the camp, she was eager to show off her new underlayer.

“It's merino wool.” ———— Emmrich watched as Rook’s taut body split the firewood. There was an instinctive artistry in the motion. Her brow and shoulders crinkled up as she gathered momentum. The axe would fall with such a satisfying thunk, it didn’t really matter when she missed.

“It’s because of the angle of the stump, to be clear.” She’d explained, unsolicited. It probably didn’t do well to have mages witness error in her hand-eye coordination.

In all honesty, connecting the axe with the wooden logs was of secondary interest to him. Brutishly hitting it against anything looked beautiful. Emmrich had never been one for weapons, but there was something quintessential about an axe and the outdoor experience. It called for a rough sort, perhaps clad in plaidweave. It was not the sort of thing people would expect him to wield.

“Rook… would you allow me to have a go?”

Lost in determined thought, she looked stunned for only a second, before offering him the axe with a smile. While Rook and Harding seemed quick to make fun of their friends, he had learned a greater appreciation for the comfort this provided. They didn’t mock a person’s inexperience. They mocked the anxiety that comes with it. Turning it into a joke made it easier to overcome. After much study, he was pleased to confirm their badgering was thinly veiled affection.

Rook stood behind him and showed him the proper stance. His legs had to be properly apart, and the axe held just so. He controlled his posture very well, but his momentum had something to gain.

“You’ve got to really give it some! Dig deep! Find something infuriating inside you, channel it through to the hilt as you raise the axe, then…. Whack!” Rook giddily described. He furrowed his brow.

CRACK.

Filled with pride, they celebrated his firewood feat. Emmrich finished up the final lot, while Rook sat on the side sharpening her sticks, occasionally sharing words of encouragement as his technique improved.

Despite a few splinters, his hair being out of place, and getting sweaty, he found it exhilarating. Emmrich wiped the sweat off his brow and placed Rook’s axe carefully against the stump. “What a thrill.”

Rook looked up at him with a chuckle. Emmrich was too pleased with himself to worry about his appearance. Nearly. He straightened his tunic.

“It’s much more physical than our process for the veilfires of the Necropolis.” Emmrich continued.

“I know veilfire has lots of benefits, but I still love a proper fire, ya know? The color, the smell, the ritual of it all.. ”

“While the green glow will always make me feel at home, you do not need to convince me of the joys of ritual.” Emmrich looked at his books and Rook pondered her growing pile of sticks. His contemplation was interrupted by a tangent query.

“So, what was your go-to angry thought?”

Though he felt safe, Emmrich panicked about how much he dared reveal his insecurities. Insecurities about insecurities were like that.

“I… thought about how my fears have kept me from so many things I’ve desired.”

“Ooh, yes that’s a good one. Real tasty.”

Though occasionally stumbling, Rook had a validating way with words. If you spoke from the heart, she’d greet it like an old friend.

“What about you?” he wondered.

“Oh, Emmrich, what aren’t I mad about?” she laughed.

“Currently? I can’t get the fuck over the fact that the dagger I’ve been carrying at my side for months now, is the one Solas used to tranquilize the titans. This dagger euthanized an entire race ‒ MY race ‒ and that damage is barely considered as a footnote in its crimes.” She was trying to say it calmly, but Emmrich could hear the anger bubbling underneath. His gaze fell on the dagger, now shaped like a large gold bangle, attached to her belt even at this moment. It looked light, but dug into her side with the weight of much more.

“Ah. Yes. That is. Hm.” his usual talent with words evading him, as he wondered how awkward he must look standing here. Every response he tried to compile felt lacking.

“Yup.” Rook concluded, returning to her sticks and giving him an exit from the conversation. After a moment of reflection, Emmrich decided to sit next to her.

“I haven’t wanted to intrude, but I assume you and Harding have talked about—”

“NOPE.” Rook slashed deep into the wood.

“Or, I mean, she did. And she can’t find it within herself to be angry. These things. Apparently. Just. Happen.”

The stick was scarred beyond comprehension.

“May I?” Emmrich gently asked, gesturing at the dagger. Rook seemed surprised by the interest, but obliged, unhooking it off her belt. He turned the dagger over, examining it thoughtfully. He could feel Rook analyzing his every movement. He did not wish to trivialize any element of it.

“You’re not only carrying the tool for our demise, but the loss of your ancestors as well. The weight and pain must be immense.”

“So much was taken from us, and no one seems angry enough.” She sounded so fragile.

He thought he heard her whisper: “If I had just picked it up a bit earlier…”

He inspected the bright blue lyrium embedded in the dagger. The blood of titans was ripped out to mold physical bodies for the first elves, and when the elves could not calm their anger, titan blood was corrupted again into a weapon to kill them. Lyrium’s song must be a sad one.

Emmrich placed a sympathetic hand on Rook’s shoulder and heard a vulnerable thanks. With a loud exhale, Rook finished her final carving, got up and began picking up the scattered wood shavings.

“Sorry, Emmrich, I’m just not in a great head space right now. I’m struggling, but I’ll be alright.” He did believe Rook, but all the same he wished he could comfort her more.

“Would some more wood chopping help your mood?” He asked, looking up at her as he handed back the lyrium dagger. With just a hint of hesitation she laughed. “I think I’ve massacred enough wood for one day, but thank you for the care!”

“My door is always open, should you wish to talk, Rook. It doesn’t serve to hold these things in. I may specialize in speaking with the dead, but I do practice with the living as well.”

“Thanks, Volkarin. I might take you up on that.” She said and began gathering the fire wood.

Emmrich pondered Rook’s words and her habit of expressing emotions in short, powerful bursts. Her hair snagged on the logs as she picked them up. He didn’t realize he was staring, until Rook ushered him to look away. ———— Harding returned with a bright smile and a pouch full of dandelion leaves.

Given the company, dinner was unsurprisingly loaf-based. Sauteed mushrooms, garlic and onions over soft slices of bread, accompanied by wild herb salad flavoured with cheese, preserved radishes and roasted nuts.

The trio sat around the campfire laughing at nonsense like past misadventures and whether or not Emmrich could take on a bear. Harding filled out her reports, Emmrich sketched his plant finds, and Rook avoided slicing into her fingers with a carving knife.

A proven creature of habit, Emmrich brought his night-time routine outside to remain with good company. He emerged from the tent wearing his truly delightful cap, striped nightgown, and slippers, with a decanter of sherry and several intricately detailed boxes in tow. Out of respect for the professor and hopes he’d still appreciate their company after this trip, Rook and Harding tried their best to ignore all the ripe material in front of them. After the third step of his skincare regimen and several delicate sips of sherry, they finally broke.

Jab after jab had Rook gripping Harding’s thigh in a fit of wheezes.

“Are you sure you’re not in your 90’s?” Harding cackled.

“You two are insufferable.” Emmrich scoffed with a barely concealed smile. Seemingly undeterred by their antics, he carefully placed the last of his jewellery into their designated boxes.

“Sorry, Emmrich… it’s just all a bit too Emm-RICH for us.” “HA!” Rook shrieked, tightening her grip.

Emmrich rolled his eyes and grinned, massaging the joints of his now exposed hands with moisturizer. The ladies performed their comedy routine for the rest of his. The sherry helped.

Despite their fascinating topics, Emmrich was fast asleep before the other two. Though drunk on joy, Harding and Rook finally calmed down enough to wrap up the night.

"Get some sleep." Harding weakly grumbled, nuzzling her pillow.

"Yeah...... Sweet dreams." Rook replied, eyes closed and cozied up, eager for the embrace of some actual sleep. ———— It didn’t last. The night offered fleeting respite, as Rook found herself awake once again. Curled up, she fought the urge to toss and turn about, reasoning that stilling her body might still mind.

She watched Harding’s occasional twitches and tried to match her friend’s breathing.

Maybe if Rook matched the basics, everything could be different. Maybe she’d be better. Do better. Maybe whatever wasn’t good enough inside of her could be fixed. But Rook doesn’t twitch in her sleep. Shouldn’t lying still as stone make her closer to the titans? Maybe stone wasn’t meant to be still. Maybe there’s a reason sleeping dwarves are confused for the dead.

The silence of the night wasn’t kind. Her body overflowed with feelings of inadequacy and jealousy. Conflict electrified every inch of her skin. Her mind wouldn’t stop. Cut from the same stone, but her faults were too deep. A constant comparison she could never escape. Maybe Harding would have done this better.

A slim arm wrapped itself around Rook. Its slender fingers and wrist, naked without their usual adornments. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, as Emmrich muttered into it in his sleep. The heat from his breath did little to stop the chill down her spine. The knuckles of his other hand pressed against her back and his chest as he slowly filled his lungs. Warmth emitted from the soft fabric of his nightgown.

The moment was quiet and tender. Every muscle in her body stiffened in panic.

Rook inhaled sharply and found herself overwhelmed with notes of incense and clover from Emmrich’s perfume, closely followed by the sweet smell of sherry on his breath. Frozen in place, her mind raced to figure out what was happening. She couldn’t move — wouldn’t move. If she did, it might cause him to readjust his position again. Away from her. Why that mattered, she didn’t know. Hot blood rushed through her veins fighting the frost up and down her skin.

Asleep. He was definitely asleep. A quiet snoring escaped his lips.

The hand on Rook’s back gently wrapped itself around her hair. His other arm tightened around her waist. Stubble nuzzled against her neck. A richness overpowered her frantic mind and her heartbeat began to slow. At some point, she must have started matching his deep, calming breathing. It was comfortable in his arms. Safe. Quiet. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

Just as Rook was on the cusp of sleep, Emmrich muttered something and turned over to his side of the tent again.

Eyes still closed, Rook chuckled. She might not be able to dream, but she could still imagine. She went to sleep with a smile on her face. ————

Day 3

Rook wasn’t sure why she didn’t mention anything over breakfast. Perhaps she was saving it for the perfect clapback at a later date. Perhaps she needed to figure out why she felt a bit embarrassed by it first. Deciding it was probably unimportant, she waved the worry away. What mattered was that she’d finally gotten a good night’s sleep and the fresh air of home was starting to light her soul.

The morning sun dappled a symphony of rustling alders, splashes on the riverbank and gleeful screams.

Harding and Rook fought for glory and dominance over the waters.

“Give up, Aldwir!”

“Not on your life!”

Stubborn, rested and in good spirits, both parties were destined to battle till the end of time. Water rose in the air, as if reaching for the snowy peaks they’d descended from. The Frostback Mountains might never recover from the carnage. The only witness tried desperately to ignore them, so he could concentrate on the task at hand. Shaving.

A well placed splash bashed Rook’s defenses, causing her to turn away from her competitor, laughter interrupted by sporadic choking. Her gaze landed on the old man trying to angle his reflection in the mirror he’d tenuously balanced on a large rock. His hair was still in a damp curl from bathing. His loose linen tunic clung to the lower part of his back. Rook stared blankly as he arched his neck preparing his blade.

She decided to consult her partner in crime. "Do you think we could do it again?" Harding shimmied over, a glint in her eye, piecing together the potential for mischief in record time. "Now, wouldn't that be fascinating?" Hands cupped around her mouth, Rook shouted "Oi, Emmrich!” The old man startled, and turned towards the silly women he’d been efficiently tuning out.

“You'd look very dignified and rugged if you grew a beard!" Harding hollered. The women turned to look at each other and nodded fervently.

“Varric got SO much more respect when he grew his out.”

“It’s true!” Harding giggled.

“It really is remarkable how a bit of a beard can elevate the face!” Rook loudly mused, still impressed they’d been able to pressure the old dwarf into growing hair somewhere other than his chest. Sure the respect had mostly been from them, but that still counts!

They watched as Emmrich sighed a heavy sigh and put down his razer. Victory, so soon? Or had he just grown tired of them already?

"You ladies jest, but truth be told, your words carry a great shame. You see, I tried growing a beard but a few years ago and it was… Patchy". He looked broken with the admission.

Rook and Harding gasped, not sure to what extent any of them were playing along or being deeply serious. The two women rushed through the water towards him, drenching Emmrich with consolation and affirmations.

“Moustaches are severely underrated forms of facial hair”, Rook began.

”It’s not just any man who could pull off a look like that!” Harding added.

If he had genuinely been upset by his subpar beard growing capabilities, being complimented for his moustache styling seemed to do the trick. Rook and Harding made a good team when it came to overwhelming others.

If he couldn’t grow a beard, the stubble wasn’t a bad look either. Rook felt it rather suited him.

“You’re both too kind”, a bemused Emmrich sheepishly smiled as he placed a hand on his chest. “Thank you for accepting me in my great shame.”

“That’s what expeditions are for”, Rook grinned. The fancy man really did have a way with words. ———— Campfire cleaned up and tent put away, Harding slapped the top of her of her perfectly organized rucksack, pleased with her results and grateful for the past few days.

“Right!” She proclaimed, calling for attention and hoisting her things on to her back. “Ready to go?”

She turned around to see a happy, yet haphazardly packed Rook and a slightly disheveled Emmrich, fretting over his plant samples.

As Harding had hoped, Rook seemed calmer and more confident. Her friend had a tendency to get in her head and… the voices weren’t always kind. The break seemed to have done her good.

As for Emmrich: he had definitely loosened up and behaved much more comfortably in their company now. He seemed to have really enjoyed his time experiencing new things with new friends. He’d even agreed to keep the stubble for a few more days.

It had been a good trip.

———————————————— Notes: That's it's that's the thing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This was my first fic and first time writing something that wasn't a script or some quippy post, so it was mega spooky! The lovely and talented @bharv gave me so many tips and was ever so patient and kind. My other writer friend Frank also helped a ton, despite knowing nothing about the game. Tinttu has thus far only made it to Day 2, but has the very important task of helping me figure out wtf I need to tag this as when I finally get it on ao3!

I think writing is fun! Very scary, but fun! It is nice expressing myself in a new way! I hope you liked it!!!!!!! Please tell me you liked it!!!! I crave validation in such a pathetic level!!!!

[anne-is-confused]

only been able to play datv very sporadically with everything going on but i finally got to the point of no return flag and i need to gather my thoughts before i go in

(got longer than i thought so. Page cut)

act one's pacing seemed fine to me but honestly act 2 seemed? Weird? Rushed? Idk i know there's a bunch of quests left in the main line but the overall story just feels so. Short, compared to the other games

did get the circles. i know they unlock a secret ending, but nothing more. my best guess at this point is that the future of the franchise will turn towards the powers across the sea (to which im still convinced rook is somehow already connected), especially combined with the qunari's "devouring storm" stuff

my ongoing theory for why davrin didnt die is because. Well. it's the old god soul that kills the warden who makes the final blow, right? which until now seems to have been the evanuris' consciousness trying to escape their prison. but now elgar'nan and ghilan'nain are here physically. so now im a lot less worried about davrin and A LOT MORE worried about lucanis

im romancing bellara but i havent had any romance specific scenes yet?? I locked it in and she acknowledges it, but no kissing no nothing?? Really hoping i didnt miss anything :((

i was right emmrich's personal quest DID make me cry👍

i was already against him becoming a lich but i wanted to keep that choice for my romance playthrough. but then it became a choice about manfred and i just could not have lived with an empty space on the balcony :( no lichdom for you sir

taash's va really carries the character i think. im still haunted by their scream when their mom died

i have to be honest im really not a fan of the very modern queer terminology being used..... it's the continuity thing that bothers me most i think. after 3 games where they wouldnt even use the word gay, codex entries being like "genderqueer people are valid☺️" feel very alien

neve really grew on me. she didn't interest me much off the bat but ive really come to love her AND i really like her little romance with lucanis as well<3 jaded lady detective and her boytoy femme fatale

lichrally cannot get enough of antoine and evka they are adorable!!!!! Putting them in my pocket

when solas started speaking to rook in the elgarnan trap i almost teared up againnn i missed my boy!!!!! I honestly thought we'd have a lot more conversations with him, he wasnt at all like the "devil on your shoulder" the devs talked about. he was just. There, sorta

mythaaaaal🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 the fact that solas EXTRACTED HER FRAGMENT FORM THE BLADE THAT KILLED HER and kept her locked in a closed-off area of the crossroads without ever visiting FOR MILLENIA is exactly the type of fucked up shit i wanted from them. wife in the freezer moment

convinced someone on the writing team is/knows some hungarian. hal the fishmonger. elek. warden jános. (sylvia feketekuty has a hungarian surname so maybe im not insane??) anyway dragon age hungary au is real

Dont know when ill have time to finish it but uuuhhh yeah im closing in lads👍

[ddwardiswriting]

Chapter 13: Insight

“So, can you use your gift to take a look at this?” I asked, digging into my pocket and producing the badge of service.

Amy looked at it, holding it close to her face, “An Octavian badge? Sure, I’ll give you a read on this. But Manfred hands out all the badges so it’ll end with Manfred and then the jeweler who made it.”

“But the points in the middle might tell us something,” Fiona said. “The person who had it before the gentleman we took it from will likely be the most important person.”

“Alright. Lady Ren, may I sit? Using my gift is taxing. I can lose my balance when I receive the impressions of the other people who’ve held the item.”

I patted the spot on the loveseat next to myself. Amy sat next to me. She took a moment to nuzzle me. I noticed she was staring at Fiona. They had their eyes locked. After a moment longer than I liked, Amy looked away. She clasped her hands around the badge and then closed her eyes. 

She sat still and silent. 

Nothing happened. Amy sat motionless. Her expression remained blank. 

“She is bold,” Fiona said, “I like her.”

“So do I,” I said.

“She does not wish to upset you. But she made sure I understood that she would not back off to placate me.”

“She did? How did you know?”

“I do not read faces well. I am not good at nuance or subtext. But she made eye contact and held. And then she pressed herself against you, while maintaining eye contact. That is a message I understand. She has my respect for that. And she is gorgeous. You have good taste.”

“You’re not upset?”

“I am worried. The class difference would cause a scandal if somebody exposed your secret. That could complicate our relationship. And new though it is, I wish to retain that relationship.”

“I do too.”

“But, to answer your question. No, I am not upset. I am intrigued.”

“That’s something,” I said.

“She has it.” Fiona said, “Her aura has changed.”

I looked and noticed Amy’s expression had tightened into a grimace. 

“A lot is happening in her head right now. It is impressive to watch.” Fiona said. 

“Is she okay?” I asked, “It looks like she’s in pain.”

“She is not comfortable, but I do not think I would call it pain yet. But she is not enjoying whatever she is seeing. You are worried about her.”

“Of course I am! You know what we are to each other. Of course I’d worry about her.”

“Indeed. I am glad to see your concern. How long have you been together?”

I sighed, “Days. But she’s been my personal maid for three years.”

“So you have been pining for her? Did I pick an inopportune time to begin courting you?”

“Of course not. You’re an amazing woman,” I answered. “And you’re a very good match as you say. I wouldn’t be able to marry a commoner at this point anyway.”

“Indeed you would not. That would take great sacrifice or greater authority than you have.”

Amy’s nose had started bleeding. I put my hands on her shoulders.

“Is she alright?” I asked.

“She is in pain now. Beyond that, you and I know the same amount. We have different gifts than she has. I have not practiced my gift as a professional. And I do not have any friends or connections within the professional mystic community. I assume that you do not either?”

“No.” I didn’t want to tell Fiona that I didn’t have friends. Not as Lady Karen or Lady Ren. I paused and dabbed at the blood on Amy’s face. I wiped the trickle away so it wouldn’t stain her uniform. I didn’t want her getting in trouble for that on my account. “Fiona, I didn’t know that my ladybird had a mystic gift. I’m clearly not aware of these things.”

“True.” Fiona said. “Ah. Miss, have you finished?”

I stopped with my handkerchief still brushing her face.

“I am,” Amy said, then she coughed into her left hand and closed her hand into a fist. “Did I get a nosebleed? Thank you dear.”

She took my hand with her free right hand.

“I was worrying,” I said.

“I’m sorry Ren, I should have warned you that counter measures can make my gift strain my body.”

“Counter measures? What do you mean?”

“May I borrow your handkerchief?”

I nodded and handed it to her. She wiped her left hand on the handkerchief and more blood stained it. I realized that she had coughed up blood.

“Defenses against scrying, like my object reading or clairvoyance.” Amy said, “There are alchemical powders that ward a person or a place.  They can be against object reading or other gifts. A mystic can sometimes force through the wards. That’s what I did here. But a few blood vessels in my nose burst.”

“You’re not hurt?” I asked.

“I hurt,” Amy said, “I’m not injured though.” 

She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. 

“Have we expressed enough concern now?” Fiona asked, “May we ask what you learned?”

I shuddered. I thought I was socially inept. But that was impressive. 

Amy giggled. I sighed with relief.

“Of course Your Excellency. I appreciate your concern.”

Fiona shook her head, “When we are alone, you may call me Fiona as you call your mistress Ren.”

“Of course Your Excellency. I’m sorry. Fiona. The man who had the badge last used to come and go from our estate with some sort of deliveries. He didn’t know what was in the deliveries. And I am confident he is dead now.”

I coughed.

“That may have been me,” Fiona said. ‘Correction, that was definitely me.”

“Oh,” Amy whispered, “Was it necessary?”

Fiona nodded, “Yes. He was a werewolf working for the crown prince. And he attacked Ren.”

Amy nodded, “Then it was very necessary. Before the nasty werewolf, the badge was in the possession of a very boring man. If you want my guess, he was a bureaucrat. He transported the badge to the nasty werewolf, but didn’t do much else.”

“We can leave him out then,” I said.

“It’s the next one who is interesting.” Amy said, “He was the one using a ward. You’re lucky I’m good at this. I couldn’t get all the way through the alchemical defenses. But I could tell that they were an actual member of House Octavian. And I’m confident that they are a lord, and not a servant.” 

“So this isn’t a conspiracy against my house,” I said, “It’s a conspiracy within my house.”

This was creepy. I had watched Lynn play through the game along five different story paths. And I had listened to Lynn talk about the game non-stop. She had never mentioned a conspiracy involving House Octavian. And she had never mentioned a smuggling sub plot. And I couldn’t remember any myself. 

I wanted to ask Lynn about it. But I had no idea where I stood with her.  

“Somebody in House Octavian is conspiring with Hyperborea. This is not good.” Fiona said, “At the mildest, this is criminal. At its most severe, this is treason. If we keep digging, this could bring down your whole house. Are you sure that you wish to continue?”

I was quiet for a moment. Fiona was right. It depended upon who had given out that badge, and how high their status. But what we discovered could shatter House Octavian. This could ruin everyone within the house.

“It doesn't matter. We have to go forward,” I said.

Would Lynn let me bring down House Octavian if it would save Ys?

[felassan]

Snippets. 🐺💜

John: "one of the funnier quirks of game dev is you will never remember missions by their real names but instead by the name you called them by for several years of development it will never be 'In Your Heart Shall Burn' for me, it'll always be Setback" [source] / Blair: "there was that awkward period where half of the DA:V ones had "gods" in the title, so discussions were always some variant of: "Did you mean 'Gods Are Back' or 'Gods Are Bad'? I've heard people mention 'Egads! Gods!' but I'm not sure if that's new or a rework."" [source] / Malcolm (in reply to John): "I have one like this in DA:Ve and I can't share it yet because spoilers but I promise you it's delightful" [source]

John: "the only one i can ever remember is 'Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts' and it's because it seems to be the only DAI mission that people constantly reference by name online" [source] / Mary: "It's proper name is "Ham Ball." I put that in the file names, even." [source]

John: "idk how widely it’s been advertised but a reminder we are doing another Veilguard Q&A on Discord this Friday noon Mountain time (so 11 Pacific)" [source] / Malcolm: "Make sure you don't tell them about that one thing that happens in that place, with the guy." [source]

Trick: "BioWare released a new screenshot of Taash! I love how it captures the amazing detail work the character artists did." [source]

Image description on the Taash screenshot in Trick's post of the cap:

"A screenshot of Taash looking off to the side. The lighting is warm like either late afternoon or an interior with a fireplace, and it catches in the gold on Taash's armor and horns. Taash looks pensive or vulnerable -- not the deadpan stare or badass determination we've seen in other shots."

pensive or vulnerable.. ohh Taash. 🥺 Trick!!

User on the screenshot: "Taash looks *completely the fuck over this shit* in a totally exhausted sort of way, here. which is, mind, amazing detail work on the character artists' party!!" / Trick: "You know, it's a spectrum." [source]

Trick on DA:I - "Miss May is amazing in many ways, and especially in finding the balance of sweetness to pain for the Solas scenes. ❤️" [source] ((thankyouuu Miss May!!))

User: "it must be basically impossible to resist putting at least one extra moon around your fantasy world" / John: "if dragon age didn’t already have two you’d better believe I would’ve added another one. sitting next to a dial titled ‘number of moons’ and every so often I add another one. anyways the thing about Satina is- (a large hook drags me offstage)" [source, two, three] ((omg.. THE SECOND MOON shfuehfuehdbdh)

User: "i've been thinking about bellara's pockets and i need to know what her thoughts on cargo pants would be. would she be a fan for the utility." / John: "she wouldn't wear them all the time - she's a firm believer in a distinction between 'work clothes' and 'at home clothes' - but she is always in search of more pockets to carry more things into the field. she'd own at least three pairs" [source]

User: "The next two months are going to feel like the Fade section in DAO 😭" / Dragon Age: "Good thing we have a Veil Jumper to help you out! 💜" [source]

User: "MY SON LOOKS SO CUTE" (re: the new pic of Manfred from today) / Dragon Age: "MY BOY MANFRED 💀💚" [source]

User: "Can we change the armor/gear on our companions?" / Dragon Age: "You can!" [source]

User: "thank you for the food 🙏🙏🙏" / Dragon Age: "Enjoy your meal!" [source]

[theggning]

Oh god look she’s talking about Godot again- YEAH I AM, because nobody talks about Godot’s actual strategy and mechanics as a prosecutor!

Because in canon he only does 4 cases (4 of which he loses and one of which... ahem) Godot has the reputation of being a “bad” prosecutor or inept at his job. But I call bullshit! Players are just used to 2 games where every prosecutor is either Manfred Von Karma or a disciple of his (Payne who??). Godot’s prosecution style is totally unique, and very distinct in ways that make him an absolutely perfect “final boss” prosecutor for the original trilogy.

- Chiefly, and unlike the VK prosecutor club, Godot does not care about winning. Sure, he doesn’t want to lose, but it has nothing to do with his “record.” Though he states his desire to defeat Phoenix, he later specifies he’s actually “testing” him and his worthiness to the legal legacy he’s inherited. And for all the flack Godot gets for his winless record, Phoenix really lucked out in all of these cases. Godot actually would have won State vs. DeLite 1, State vs. DeLite 2, and State vs. Byrde had one witness in each not made a stupid mistake at the finish line.

- To that point, and often unacknowledged, there is a specific moment in each case where Godot stops arguing his case and either gives leeway to or actually assists the defense. (EX: He helps verbally reason out Phoenix’s arguments, agrees to Mia’s request to cross-examine Atmey, personally subpoenas and “tames” Furio Tigre, etc.) This usually comes once it’s been proven beyond a doubt that Phoenix’s client is innocent. Godot remains an unrelenting asshole to Phoenix personally and eggs him on about how competently he can prove his point, but he’s clearly not looking to send innocents to jail to stick it to him.

(Hmm. Who else cares about a client’s guilt or innocence and the truth ahead of “winning...”)

- He infamously has never prosecuted a case before 3-2, but multiple characters remark that he’s obviously not an amateur in the courtroom. Gumshoe in particular notes that Godot has skill and confidence to back up his arrogance (via a series of Top Gun jokes) and he’s not just a rookie floundering around behind the bench.

- Also unlike the VK prosecutor club, Godot mostly plays fair. He doesn’t prep or coach witnesses, doesn’t instruct them to lie. He never does anything as cheap as the infamous “updated autopsy report,” or Franziska’s blatantly illegal detention room photo stunt from 2-2. Obviously there’s a few below-the-belt moments (and he clearly enjoys when he can catch Phoenix flatfooted) but those are mostly the result of this goofball legal system being massively stacked for the prosecution anyway.

- The one questionable quirk of his is the fact he tends to take evidence from the crime scene. In 3-2, he kept DeMasque’s brooch to himself without telling the police he’d found it. Gumshoe and the Judge are both appalled at this but Godot thinks nothing of it, remarking that it’s a “rule” of his that “the safest place for evidence is in my pocket.”

(Hmm, which other legal professional we know tends to pocket evidence from the crime scene without telling the police? And what job does he have?)

- Godot’s style with his witnesses is completely different than the other prosecutors. Rather than coaching them or telling them what and what not to say, he tends to let them speak their minds on the stand. For all his cryptic douchebaggery he does have a way with people, keeping his cool with hostile witnesses (Tigre) and building friendly rapport with others (Ron and Kudo especially come to mind here.) 

(Hmmm, which other legal professional is used to building a strong rapport and trusting a witness to give testimony...?)

- He’s a world class bullshitter. Like even putting aside the unparseable metaphors and non sequiturs, when his back’s against the wall he throws out some absolutely wild arguments, blatantly ridiculous notions, whatever he can think of, trying to make it stick until the evidence decisively rips it down. The whole mirror testimony in 3-3 is a prime example of this... just blatantly stupid, but he allows it because it forces Phoenix to prove something.

(Hmmm... which other legal professional do we know is a constant bullshitter, desperately throwing outrageous theories to see what sticks...?) 

Notice a pattern at all?

This incredibly funny post by @franbamm and @palant1r is 100% accurate and is one of the best takes I’ve ever seen. Why does Godot’s prosecution feel so strange, so off? Because he prosecutes like a defense attorney. Not just any defense attorney either, but a certain defense attorney, the protege of his own protege, the man he crawled back from hell to do battle with. He’s the best possible “final boss” prosecutor for Phoenix because he’s his foil, both characterization and courtroom-wise.

In order to truly prove himself, Phoenix will have to proverbially beat himself: an inwardly honorable but near-incoherent bullshitting weirdo, constantly flying by the seat of his pants.

[aceattorneyheritageposts]

I hc the reason that Edgeworth always has his hands in his trouser pockets is an act of defiance against Manfred. Because mfvk is so strict he probably would have taught miles to never put his hands in his pockets because a) it’s bad form traditionally because it stretches the fabric and b) lawyers are often scolded for having hands in their pockets. So miles keeps his hands in his pockets as a invisible ‘fuck you’ to von karma

I like this headcanon. Like "fuck you von Karma, now everyone knows my ass is incredible, unlike you with your flat ass baby ass man ass ass."