#radhika - rook

[grimrevolution]

warriors: skipping boss fights one drop kick at a time

[grimrevolution]

Nahia Laidir: ironically for a lord of fortune, she really hates the sound of metals rubbing against each other. coins, jewelry, weapons, etc. the clinking sound just rubs her the wrong way.

Radhika: when people dance around what they want to say. fluffing up their words until their words make no sense. she would rather have it said bluntly and then emotions be soothed over than hear a five minute ramble that boils down to 'i broke this vase'.

what is your rook's biggest pet peeve?

[purpldawne]

characters i haven't thought about in over a year part 356789000034: all the fucking twst ocs i made last year. most of em aren't really fleshed out beyond stats and appearance but they still exist and i wanna talk about em

IN HOUSE ORDER WE HAVE:

- Blanche Hare, 4th Year

- Seb Cantooker, 3rd Year

- Simeon Nahdi, 2nd Year

- Vaine Vautour, 3rd Year ( technically my s/i but it still counts )

- Elette Vautour, 1st Year

and i maybe had an rsa oc or two:

- Radhika Sharit

- Unnamed Pinocchio guy

- i swear there was another one but i cannot for the life of me remember who it was

im only gonna do the nrc boys here but i may make another for the other guys

BLANCHE HARE

- Heartslabyul

- 19

- 4th Year

- Beastman

Twisted from: The White Rabbit

- ABSOLUTELY 💯💯💯 TIME MANAGEMENT SKILLS is ALWAYS RIGHT ON TIME

- sets reminders and ignores them

- this has only gotten worse since leaving campus

Seb Cantooker

- Octavinelle

- 18

- 3rd Year

- Merman

Twisted from: Sebastian

- mom friend. would keep the leeches on child leashes if floyd didn't keep biting them off

- riddle rosehearts, at this time of year, at this time of day, in this part of campus, localized entirely within your dorm

Simeon Nahdi

- Scarabia

- 17

- 2nd Year

- Beastman

Twisted from: Abu

- sneaky fingers. fun at parties.

- cater's bestie

- leona has a heart attack every time he sees sim cuz he thinks he's cheka

- she a runner she a track star /ref

Vaine Vautour

- Pomefiore

- 18

- 3rd Year

- Fae

Twisted from: the Evil Queen's Raven

- very shy at first. then very sarcastic. takes things too seriously sometimes.

- his tail flicks when he's happy or excited

- yes he molts. yes rook has a collection of his feathers.

Elette Vautour

- Diasomnia

- 16

- 1st Year

- Fae

Twisted from: idk the thorns or smth???

- Vaine's younger sibling. kinda got a sakuma thing going on but instead of there being a valid reason it's just teenage angst

- thinks rook is weird for watching him all the time not knowing his brother asked him to

- would probably find it weirder if he knew his brother asked rook to watch him

[grimrevolution]

Favorite moments: Rook and Davrin convince Isseya to stop

What about your own griffon?

[grimrevolution]

Words: 1,108 Characters: Davrin x Rook - Radhika (pre-relationship) Rating: Gen Summary: In the midst of chaos, everyone needs a break every now and then.

Deep in the depths of Arlathan Forest, Davrin could smell the sea. The creak of the people frozen by magic sounded like the ropes of a ship, lake water lapped at the shore of a beach, and salt sat on the tip of his tongue. Sunlight filtered, dappled, through the tree tops, spreading out a pattern of seashells across hunting trails long trampled flat by halla hooves.

He had been dreaming about the ocean lately. The spray of the water, the sight of waves rising and cresting, the sound of it brushing against boat hulls and beaches and naked feet racing across the sand. Brushstrokes painted the sky in aquamarine with swirls of cerulean.

On the lucky nights, he dreamed of long, black hair veiling the sunlight. Of fruit-stained lips pressed against his own. Of palms braced against his chest.

Davrin breathed in. The salt became dirt and decaying plant life, the call of gulls turned into the sharp singing of woodland birds. Squawking and chuckling tugged him from his thoughts. The peace not broken so much as changed.

He turned.

Rook—‘you can call me Radhika, if you’d like,’ she had told him quietly during their first walk through the woods, digging for truffles—was holding a length of twine away from a bouncing, chirping griffon. Freshly caught fish hung from it, rainbow scales catching the sun. Trousers were rolled up to her bruised knees, sleeves to her scarred elbows, and neither had helped keep her clothing dry.

Out here, in the golden light of Arlathan, Radhika looked like something enduring. There was no slim plate armor hiding her slant of her shoulders, no shield weighing down her arm, no everite sword in her hand. Just the twisting, ritualistic scarring up her left forearm, geometric lines tattooed across her face, and sweat-smeared kohl that hid the bags beneath her eyes.

She was smiling. A worn thing that reminded Davrin more of the brand-new post-joining Warden recruits than the boisterous Lords of Fortune. Assan bounded at her dirt speckled, bare heels, chirping, warbling, and crooning. The fur and feathers along his belly and legs were dripping with the river.

Davrin stepped a bit further into the trees, letting the shadows of the boughs and leaves hide him from view. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Radhika smile. Or perhaps he never had, and they were all stolen away by the attacks on Treviso and Minrathous.

“No, Assan,” she said, sternly but fondly. Her grip was gentle as she grabbed the griffon cub’s beak before it could catch one of the fish. “These are for supper. Besides, let me gut and debone them before you stuff your face.”

Ears and wings dropped. Baby-blue eagle eyes widened. If he was an elven babe, the damn beast would be pouting.

Good thing he was born with a beak and claws. Davrin hated to think what he would get up to if he had thumbs.

Radhika merely laughed. It was a tender, quiet sound, all lotus blossoms and mud-stirred water. “That won’t work on me as much as it does on Neve,” she told Assan, brushing her fingers gently across the speckled silver feathers on his forehead.

He warbled at her and nudged his head into her touch, giving up on the fish. For now. There was something divine in the way the sunlight fell across her hair that not even the so-called gods could touch. Up in the ruins, the shadow of Ghilan’nain’s likeness glared at him for his so-called blasphemy.

Mother of the halla. Mother of monsters. Davrin hadn’t given her much thought after taking his vallaslin. Not until recently when her hand dealt the death blow of a thousand wardens.

“Davrin?”

Turning away from the shadow of the tyrant, he glanced towards Radhika.

Her shoulder length black hair was pulled up into a messy bun. A white and blue lily stuck out of the tie holding it together; a gift from one of the younger veil jumpers they had rescued mere days ago. It looked like a guiding star.

It softened her. Not with the plushness of rabbit fur, but like how dusk lessened the heat of the day. Twilight wiping away blood and dirt and the horrors the light revealed to firesides, drinks, and steadfast company.

She had tilted her head to the side and was watching him, checking in that way she always did for injuries, then for anything else.

“I’m alright,” Davrin said stepping out of the trees. “Got caught up in my own thoughts.”

Assan bounded past to go wiggle underneath the tarps that had been set up. The camping idea had been shamelessly stolen from Harding. Or, rather, Davrin had mentioned his plan to Harding only to get it whole-heartedly approved.

They were still waiting on news from the Crows, information from the Shadow Dragons, as well as whatever Antoine and Evka could scrape together. They had a small bit of time. Not a lot, but enough to go camping out in the wilderness.

Take some semblance of a break.

“If you need to head back—”

“I don’t,” Davrin told her, firmly. He carefully took the twine and the fish. “You said gutting and deboning?”

Radhika watched him. Her eyes were not blue despite the fact that she smelled of the sea. Even out here in the dirt, even at Weisshaupt when they were surrounded by blight and blood and death. It followed her, a phantom dogging at her heels.

There were some who believed that humans had come from across the sea. Perhaps had even come from it. All dirt and bones and light. A heaving, churning reminder that everyone was filled with a deep, restless soul. Elvens born from spirits made flesh. Humans born from water made to walk.

Whatever Radhika was looking for made her expression soften. “Yes,” she admitted. “Preferably before Assan decides to try and steal one.”

Davrin glanced down and—sure enough. “You heard the boss,” he said to the griffon that was trying to slink through the trees, eyes on the fish. “Nothing until supper.”

Assan warbled and flopped down on the dirt with a huff.

“You—” Davrin almost started before shaking his head. They could deal with the filth later. Probably back in the river. He spared a second to glance back at Radhika.

She was no monster to track through the wilderness nor a halla that needed patient herding. Something old lurked beneath the surface and he was no fisherman but he could learn. He could try.

“Shall we?” Davrin motioned with the fish.

Radhika smiled at him. “We shall.”

[grimrevolution]

hello! i hope you feel better op. this is radhika (shadow dragon)

and nahia (lord of fortune)

In light of the current Dragon Age news, can everyone show me their Warden, Inquisitor, Hawke and/or Rook to 1. lift my spirits and 2. so I can draw more ocs? I might not get to everyone but I will give it a good try!

[grimrevolution]

They've always belonged to me.

[grimrevolution]

Talk sense into the First Warden

[grimrevolution]

Hello, you can call me Grim. She/They.

Main Blog: grim-revolution Rooks: Nahia Laidir, Radhika AO3: Existing Within Fear

[grimrevolution]

nahia laidir: shapeshifting as her specialization (though revealed later that she knows and practices blood magic). she would have been recruited for her knowledge of temple delving and getting through ruins, but her personal quest would be whether she should follow her mother's footsteps and become the head seer of dairsmuid or continue helping the lords of fortune.

radhika: spirit warrior as her specialization, though she would be recruited for her knowledge about cults, the occult, and ancient beliefs. her personal quest would be about facing the truth of her past and choosing whether to embrace the spirit she gets her specialization/abilities from or finally separating.

had your rook been a companion instead, what do you think their specialization would be? what would be the reason for recruiting them?

[thedissonantverses]

Ohhhhhhh my friend incredible work as always. This is beautiful and you write Davrin so well. I like Rahdhika in this too. You prose is always so gorgeous and aspirational.

Words: 1,108 Characters: Davrin x Rook - Radhika (pre-relationship) Rating: Gen Summary: In the midst of chaos, everyone needs a break every now and then.

Deep in the depths of Arlathan Forest, Davrin could smell the sea. The creak of the people frozen by magic sounded like the ropes of a ship, lake water lapped at the shore of a beach, and salt sat on the tip of his tongue. Sunlight filtered, dappled, through the tree tops, spreading out a pattern of seashells across hunting trails long trampled flat by halla hooves.

He had been dreaming about the ocean lately. The spray of the water, the sight of waves rising and cresting, the sound of it brushing against boat hulls and beaches and naked feet racing across the sand. Brushstrokes painted the sky in aquamarine with swirls of cerulean.

On the lucky nights, he dreamed of long, black hair veiling the sunlight. Of fruit-stained lips pressed against his own. Of palms braced against his chest.

Davrin breathed in. The salt became dirt and decaying plant life, the call of gulls turned into the sharp singing of woodland birds. Squawking and chuckling tugged him from his thoughts. The peace not broken so much as changed.

He turned.

Rook—‘you can call me Radhika, if you’d like,’ she had told him quietly during their first walk through the woods, digging for truffles—was holding a length of twine away from a bouncing, chirping griffon. Freshly caught fish hung from it, rainbow scales catching the sun. Trousers were rolled up to her bruised knees, sleeves to her scarred elbows, and neither had helped keep her clothing dry.

Out here, in the golden light of Arlathan, Radhika looked like something enduring. There was no slim plate armor hiding her slant of her shoulders, no shield weighing down her arm, no everite sword in her hand. Just the twisting, ritualistic scarring up her left forearm, geometric lines tattooed across her face, and sweat-smeared kohl that hid the bags beneath her eyes.

She was smiling. A worn thing that reminded Davrin more of the brand-new post-joining Warden recruits than the boisterous Lords of Fortune. Assan bounded at her dirt speckled, bare heels, chirping, warbling, and crooning. The fur and feathers along his belly and legs were dripping with the river.

Davrin stepped a bit further into the trees, letting the shadows of the boughs and leaves hide him from view. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Radhika smile. Or perhaps he never had, and they were all stolen away by the attacks on Treviso and Minrathous.

“No, Assan,” she said, sternly but fondly. Her grip was gentle as she grabbed the griffon cub’s beak before it could catch one of the fish. “These are for supper. Besides, let me gut and debone them before you stuff your face.”

Ears and wings dropped. Baby-blue eagle eyes widened. If he was an elven babe, the damn beast would be pouting.

Good thing he was born with a beak and claws. Davrin hated to think what he would get up to if he had thumbs.

Radhika merely laughed. It was a tender, quiet sound, all lotus blossoms and mud-stirred water. “That won’t work on me as much as it does on Neve,” she told Assan, brushing her fingers gently across the speckled silver feathers on his forehead.

He warbled at her and nudged his head into her touch, giving up on the fish. For now. There was something divine in the way the sunlight fell across her hair that not even the so-called gods could touch. Up in the ruins, the shadow of Ghilan’nain’s likeness glared at him for his so-called blasphemy.

Mother of the halla. Mother of monsters. Davrin hadn’t given her much thought after taking his vallaslin. Not until recently when her hand dealt the death blow of a thousand wardens.

“Davrin?”

Turning away from the shadow of the tyrant, he glanced towards Radhika.

Her shoulder length black hair was pulled up into a messy bun. A white and blue lily stuck out of the tie holding it together; a gift from one of the younger veil jumpers they had rescued mere days ago. It looked like a guiding star.

It softened her. Not with the plushness of rabbit fur, but like how dusk lessened the heat of the day. Twilight wiping away blood and dirt and the horrors the light revealed to firesides, drinks, and steadfast company.

She had tilted her head to the side and was watching him, checking in that way she always did for injuries, then for anything else.

“I’m alright,” Davrin said stepping out of the trees. “Got caught up in my own thoughts.”

Assan bounded past to go wiggle underneath the tarps that had been set up. The camping idea had been shamelessly stolen from Harding. Or, rather, Davrin had mentioned his plan to Harding only to get it whole-heartedly approved.

They were still waiting on news from the Crows, information from the Shadow Dragons, as well as whatever Antoine and Evka could scrape together. They had a small bit of time. Not a lot, but enough to go camping out in the wilderness.

Take some semblance of a break.

“If you need to head back—”

“I don’t,” Davrin told her, firmly. He carefully took the twine and the fish. “You said gutting and deboning?”

Radhika watched him. Her eyes were not blue despite the fact that she smelled of the sea. Even out here in the dirt, even at Weisshaupt when they were surrounded by blight and blood and death. It followed her, a phantom dogging at her heels.

There were some who believed that humans had come from across the sea. Perhaps had even come from it. All dirt and bones and light. A heaving, churning reminder that everyone was filled with a deep, restless soul. Elvens born from spirits made flesh. Humans born from water made to walk.

Whatever Radhika was looking for made her expression soften. “Yes,” she admitted. “Preferably before Assan decides to try and steal one.”

Davrin glanced down and—sure enough. “You heard the boss,” he said to the griffon that was trying to slink through the trees, eyes on the fish. “Nothing until supper.”

Assan warbled and flopped down on the dirt with a huff.

“You—” Davrin almost started before shaking his head. They could deal with the filth later. Probably back in the river. He spared a second to glance back at Radhika.

She was no monster to track through the wilderness nor a halla that needed patient herding. Something old lurked beneath the surface and he was no fisherman but he could learn. He could try.

“Shall we?” Davrin motioned with the fish.

Radhika smiled at him. “We shall.”