#rooks about to take Davrin with her into that void

[dovesnroses]

This post by @guardianofthedawn has been rotating in my brain since I saw it, and now this appears

[fangsandfeels]

"Everyone gets along because there is a threat", yadda, yadda, yadda.

Bullshit. This is not how real scenarios work and it has never been.

russia is a global threat right now, but the world can't decide between sucking its dick and politely asking it to stop because the mere thought of confronting russia makes it shit its pants. The very few countries who scream into the void, warning about russia and telling people to wake the fuck up are ignored and viewed as crazy doomsayers.

This is how real crisis looks like. Nobody works together against a threat because people are spineless cowards who would rather throw their neighbors under the bus than fight. Nobody learned anything from history lessons, books or survivors.

The only difference in a fantasy game is that NPCs end up having more spine and moral principles than real people.

But in Veilguard, everyone gets along because they have NO reasons not to.

Davrin has no real reasons to beef (if you can call it that) with Lucanis because he is a Grey Warden. He knows where Grey Wardens take their conscripts from. He knows that Grey Wardens regularly recruit mages who are a lot more likely to get possessed if they're not careful. Working with an assassin who knows friend from foe isn't the worst thing ever. One subtle warning about taking action if demon takes over is enough.

Taash has no reasons to antagonize Emmrich aside from horrible writing.

Neve gets along with Bellara because writers gave Bellara a happy childhood with her family and turned Dalish artifacts into Apple store gadgets, while refusing giving Neve any nuance as the citizen of Tevinter.

Emmrich gets along with everyone because he is generally a kind and well-mannered person who doesn't like to stir the pot.

Any companion who could have had a sharp edge, got that edge ripped off and a cartoon band-aid slapped on.

Never doesn't deal with people who don't know about Shadow Dragons (and they probably shouldn't know much because when you work against a powerful government who wants to destroy you, you shouldn't show off), so she constantly has to deal with the fact that people assume she is a noble or a slave-owner because she is from Tevinter; that they don't know that she had to literally fight against being enslaved herself because in Tevinter mages who refuse to use their power to dominate others are turned into slaves as well.

Bellara isn't conflicted about working with humans, especially Tevinter humans at all. She seems to never have dealt with oppression her whole life and she is super quick to write off Cyrian as evil even though there are clear SIGNS that he was tricked and controlled by the Forgotten One. But no, she never thinks "He is still there, I can save him, I won't lose him again", she goes straight to "Oh nooo my brother is dead to me".

Emmrich doesn't get burdened by people reacting to him and his sincere intention to help with fear, because of all the sinister rumors revolving around necromancers and Nevarra. He isn't hurt by people assuming that he loves death and things dying. If even he openly admitted that he is deeply terrified of death, they wouldn't have believed him.

Harding isn't burdened by the revelation she learned and what to do with it. Should she storm her way to the Orzammar? Should she talk to fellow surface dwarves and reconnect them with their history? Should she never breach the subject because the truth hurts and it's too much pain, too much anger to live with - and maybe she shouldn't let other dwarves go through it?

We don't even have a party divided on what to do with Solas (kill or talk it out)? Even though it's logical to have companions who are convinced that Solas has to die and those who think that he is misguided and can be convinced to stop.

Also, there are NO companions whose background, viewpoints and attitude would rile other companions up. We have no controversial characters whose interactions with the crew Rook would have been forced to intervene in unless they want their team to start throwing hands with each other.

We could have had Imshael - to give EVERYONE a reason to worry, and argue, and have conflicts. We could have had an ex-Venatori Calpernia bashing heads with Neve, Bellara, and Emrich. We could have had a Qunari spy who'd make Lucanis' dagger-arm itch.

If writers didn't forget about the Architect, we could have had an intelligent Darkspawn companion Davrin could be losing his shit around.

Or heck, we could have had a former red templar who got partially (magically?) reversed from their mad state and is now not a mindless beast, but still is on a borrowed time, probably needed due to their strength, but barely tolerated by anyone.

Who is fanatical, mostly because they have to believe they made a noble sacrifice, that it all was for the greater good -- because the truth scares them to their core. Who gives Lucanis shit for being an assassin and abomination, who bashes necromancy, and mages, and talks about purity, while downplaying their own actions as "Yes, these are my sins, but they are for the better world, and I would be proud to die for that world unlike you heathens who would rather ruin it than repent for your flaws". The kind of companion you'd initially want to do nothing with, but who can reveal an entire gallery of fucked up contradictions and trauma if you decide to keep them around.

However, writing such companions takes skill, courage, and requires absence of greedy corpo "we don't want to scare away new players with all that moral nuance" thinking.

[authorellenmint]

2 AM

Even in a world without night or day, a sun or moon, Lucanis could still tell when it was 2 AM. There was an edge to the air, like the too taut string of a lute about to snap, or a bracing wind cutting through a secret passage in a wall. Save a few errant wisps traversing to Maker knew where, no one stirred in the Lighthouse.

I don’t. Want this!

No one save the demon in his head.

“Too bad,” Lucanis murmured to himself. He’d let himself falter for a few hours and woke to find his foot hovering above a fall to nowhere. Spite, despite nearly sending them both plummeting into the void, wouldn’t cease pouting. He was worse than a child demanding a cookie. At least the child couldn’t take over their parent and kill them.

I want. To Talk. To Rook!

“No.” Lucanis cut his constant refrain off with a curt snarl. He had no idea what Spite wanted from Rook, but he wasn’t going to risk it…risk her to his inner demon. Spite growled at being denied once again.

Lucanis had been let himself be pleased after the dinner. Less so the Antaam’s surprising attack, but for a brief moment he’d held her in his arms. Let himself give in to the pinging strings of his heart as she’d melted against him.

Then Spite began to whine.

Rook. Will Understand.

“I highly doubt that.” Lucanis hadn’t fully weighed what being with someone, someone who meant the world to him, would mean while his mind wasn’t entirely his own. Perhaps a foolish part of him had hoped that Spite might take the evening off. Instead, after that evening, he became obsessed with Rook.

Always asking for her. Always demanding to take control.

It worried Lucanis what his demon wanted, and if he could stop it.

His pacing steps took him up one of the many stairs circling the balcony. A delighted hiss startled him. “Hello,” he said to the death mage’s pile of bones. It clacked its mandible and hissed again.

As a man raised to bring death from a young age, it was disturbing to find bones once laid to rest up and walking around. At least Manfred wasn’t one of his contracts. And Maker help him if he ever was.

I must. Talk to—

“I said no!”

Why not?

“Because.”

Be. Cause. Why?

“Because I said so.” Mierda. Toddlers were easier to handle than Spite, and those he just bribed with a promise of chocolates. Would that work on a demon too?

Where is Rook?

“I don’t know,” Lucanis admitted. They had barely returned from Antiva before she was whisked off to handle a problem with Bellara, then Davrin and the Grey Wardens. He would be foolish to think he could monopolize all of her time, but there was a small part of him that wished he could be by her side for it. Should she drop her guard, would the Warden be quick enough to shield her?

I want. I need. To talk. To—

“For the last time, you are not talking to—” Lucanis’ mad rant slammed into a wall from a soft gasp before him.

Draped in a blanket around her shoulders, her feet bare, and hair beautifully mussed, she turned from gazing out over the Lighthouse to him.

“…Rook,” he whispered, his wild pacing stumbling a crawl. “What are you doing here?”

“It is my secret clubhouse,” Rook said with a wink. Her shoulders stooped and the blanket slipped lower, revealing a vast stretch of bare skin. As Lucanis’ mind struggled with piecing together how much of her was without clothing under that simple scrap of wool, her stance softened. She drew a palm over the railing. “I couldn’t sleep.” A warm eye drifted back to him. “I’m guessing you’re having the same problem.”

“Spite.” Lucanis grimaced. “He wants something.”

“Have you tried gingerwort truffles?”

“Truffles give me gas,” Lucanis said then his eyes opened wide. “I mean—” Whatever excuse he had evaporated at the harmonious delight dancing on her face.

She was beautiful, a fact that always struck him like a bolt from the shadows. It wasn’t that he was without eyes. He’d certainly noticed upon that first meeting in the Ossuary as she’d stood before him, cheeks flushed, chest heaving from battle. But every day with her brought a new angle to her beauty. Her kindness shone in her eyes. Her care graced her delicate fingers. And even her biting wit gleaned along her wickedly delicious lips.

Let me. Talk to Rook!

Lucanis scrunched up his face to drown out Spite.

Rook saw it all. “Is he hurting you?” There was that generous spirit that she gave and gave to every soul who crossed their paths.

“Only in my mind. He likes pushing me to my wit’s end.” Lucanis strolled to stand beside Rook. His fingers danced across the railing, chasing the pattern that didn’t exist as he tried to quell the storm tossing in his head.

Warmth brushed across his shoulder, wrenching his head around. For a beat he noticed her eyes, full of concern, before they drew to find her blanket had slipped to reveal more than just a peek of Rook’s undershirt. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Thoughts tumbled in his fracturing mind. Of him taking her offered hand and pressing a hundred kisses to her palm. Plucking her off of her feet and setting her on the banister. Kissing her worries off her lips, running his hands under that blanket. Diving into all of Rook’s beauty with no plan to surface.

A walled off Lucanis stared down at the Caretaker’s little shop across the way. “You needn’t worry about me.”

She didn’t slip away. In a soft voice, she said, “Try and stop me.”

[f4iryt3a]

Unspoken Desires - Rook*Davrin +18

This is the one-shot for the second GA's winner (domi_nolife on x)

--

Night had fallen over the deserted camp, draping the world in a shroud of soothing darkness. Around the remains of a dying fire, glowing embers cast flickering shadows over the abandoned tents and piles of armour scattered about. The air still carried the acrid scent of smoke and dried blood, remnants of the battle that had just ended. Yet, for the first time in weeks, an almost unreal calm prevailed—a heavy but oddly comforting silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of burning wood and the whisper of the wind through the trees.

Davrin sat near the fire, his back resting against an overturned supply crate. His clothes, still streaked with dust and dark stains, bore witness to the intensity of the fight. A fresh cut on his left arm had been hastily bandaged, and his fingers idly toyed with a crushed, empty flask. His eyes, weary yet sharp, stared into the invisible horizon beyond the darkness, as though searching for something in the void. Despite the seemingly relaxed posture of his body, a subtle tension betrayed the inner turmoil he could not quite shake.

Rook appeared within his line of sight, her footsteps almost soundless on the soft ground. She carried a bottle of wine in one hand and two dented metal cups in the other. Her rose-coloured hair was tied back haphazardly, though a few stray strands framed her face. Though her lopsided smile seemed casual, her eyes gleamed with a mix of exhaustion and defiance. She paused a few paces away, studying the shadowed figure of her comrade before breaking the silence.

“Planning to drown in that empty flask, or would you rather share a real drink with me ?” she quipped, her voice lightly tinged with irony.

Davrin turned his head towards her, a faint, tired smile tugging at his lips. “Not sure another drink’s a good idea, but if you insist...” He gestured casually to the space beside him, and Rook dropped down without ceremony, setting the bottle and cups between them.

Silence reclaimed the moment as she unscrewed the bottle’s cork and filled both cups. She handed one to Davrin, who accepted it without a word. The crimson liquid reflected the wavering light of the embers, and the first taste of wine on their lips seemed to soften the invisible tensions still clinging to their tired bodies.

Rook broke the silence again, her tone gentler this time “It’s been a while since we’ve had a night like this. Just... nothing. No enemies to watch, no strategies to plan.” She raised her cup in a makeshift toast “To victory, I suppose.”

Davrin arched a brow but brought his cup to meet hers with a quiet clink nonetheless “To victory..” he murmured before taking a long sip. Setting the cup down on the ground, he rubbed his jaw absentmindedly, where a bruise was beginning to form “If this is the best victory has to offer, I can see why some people prefer peace.”

Rook let out a short, almost husky laugh “Peace, huh ? And what would you do in a peaceful world? Plant flowers ?”

A fleeting smile crossed Davrin’s face, but he didn’t reply immediately. His eyes had drifted back to the embers, as if searching for an answer beyond the dying flames. Rook, for her part, simply watched him, her features softened by the shadows. For once, she didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. There was something about this night, about this shared solitude, that made words feel less necessary. And as the wine flowed slowly, as they shared the warmth of the fire and the weight of their memories, an invisible barrier between them began to crack.

The bottle of wine emptied slowly, matching the unhurried rhythm of their conversation. The alcohol, mingled with the euphoria of victory and the solace of solitude, loosened their tongues and lightened the heavy atmosphere that had weighed on their shoulders for months. The fire crackled softly, its dying embers intermittently illuminating their tired faces, etched with the shadows of battles past.

Rook broke the silence, her voice lower now, almost a whisper, as if hesitant to disturb the stillness “Do you think we’ll remember all of this ? The faces, the names...” She idly played with the rim of her cup, twisting it between her fingers “Or will it all fade away, like everything else ?”

Davrin shrugged lightly, his gaze fixed on the dying flames “Memories never really disappear” he replied, a touch of melancholy in his tone “They change. Sometimes it’s a detail—a smell, a song, a damn taste of wine—that brings them back. But they don’t vanish” He raised his cup to take a sip but paused just before it reached his lips “The real question is... do we want to remember them ?”

Rook lifted her head, her brows furrowing slightly “You mean we should just forget ? The sacrifices, the victories... the losses ?” Her tone carried a hint of anger, but also a deep sadness.

Davrin slowly turned his head towards her, his grey eyes meeting hers “Sometimes, it’s easier. To forget, I mean. Don’t you think ?”

A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the crackle of the embers. Rook was the first to look away, fixing her gaze on her empty cup “Maybe. But forgetting feels like betraying the ones we lost, doesn’t it? If we forget, it’s like they never existed.”

Her voice trembled slightly at the end, and she pressed her lips together, trying to regain her composure. Davrin noticed but didn’t comment. Instead, he set his cup down gently and leaned slightly closer to her “Who did you lose, Rook ?”

She remained still for a moment, her shoulders tense as though she carried the weight of the world. Then, slowly, she exhaled and leaned back against the crate serving as her makeshift seat “Too many people” she murmured, her eyes fixed on the starry sky “But... there was one guy. My mentor. He taught me how to survive in this mess. He taught me everything. And... he died protecting me. Stupid, isn’t it ?”

Her voice broke on the last words, and she briefly closed her eyes, as if to block out the painful memories. Davrin said nothing, but his hand instinctively reached out, brushing against hers. Rook’s eyes opened, startled by the gesture. Their gazes locked, and in that simple touch, an unspoken current seemed to flow between them

“It wasn’t stupid” Davrin murmured, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it “He knew what he was doing. And he believed you were worth protecting” He left his hand resting lightly on hers—a simple gesture, but one that carried a weight of comfort.

Rook let out a mirthless laugh “You say that because you weren’t there”

“Maybe” he admitted “But if I had been in his place, I would’ve done the same” That confession, spoken with raw sincerity, caused Rook’s defences to waver. She looked away but didn’t pull her hand back. Instead, she let the silence settle again, this time less heavy, almost soothing.

After a moment, she broke the quiet once more “And you ?” she asked, her voice calmer, almost curious “What haunts you, Davrin ?”

He hesitated, his gaze lost in the embers “Everything” he finally said, a sad smile playing on his lips “The faces, the screams... The choices we make, the things we can’t fix” His voice cracked slightly, and he ran a hand over his face, as though trying to wipe away the fatigue that weighed him down “There are nights when I wonder if any of this is really worth it”

Rook, surprised by his admission, turned her head to look at him. She really looked at him, perhaps for the first time in weeks. Beneath the armour of sarcasm and bravado, she saw a man worn down, haunted by his own demons, but still standing despite it all. Gently, instinctively, she reached out and brushed her hand against his arm “It is worth it” she murmured “As long as we’re still here, it’s worth it.”

Their eyes met again, and this time, there were no walls, no sarcasm, no pretences. Just two weary souls seeking solace in each other. Davrin nodded slowly, a faint smile softening his features “Maybe you’re right.” The fire had dwindled to mere embers, but the warmth radiating between them seemed enough to light the night.

The silence stretched, but this time, it wasn’t heavy or awkward. It carried the gentle weight of shared intimacy, of a moment suspended outside time. Davrin and Rook sat side by side, the dying fire casting only a faint, flickering glow. Around them, the vastness of the night seemed to isolate them from the rest of the world, as though this instant belonged solely to them.

Rook leaned back slightly, her shoulder brushing against Davrin’s. The contact, subtle yet significant, sent a shiver through her that she tried to ignore. She took a deep breath, as if trying to etch this moment into her memory. Her hand idly traced circles along the battered metal of her cup, but her thoughts were far from it, focused instead on the man beside her. “You know, I thought it would feel different” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Davrin turned his head toward her, intrigued “What would feel different ?”

Rook hesitated, searching for the right words “Victory. I thought it’d be… grander. Like the stories you hear, you know ? Fireworks, cheers, a sense of accomplishment. But this…” She shrugged, a bitter smile tugging at her lips “This just feels… empty.”

Davrin nodded slowly, his gaze darkening “It always does” he said softly “The glory, the celebrations… they’re illusions. What’s left is the emptiness. And the memories.”

Rook turned her face toward him, capturing his gaze “Then why do we keep going ? Why do we fight if all we get is this ?”

Davrin held her eyes for a moment, searching for an answer he didn’t quite have. Instead of replying, he reached for the wine bottle. His fingers brushed against hers as he retrieved it, a fleeting touch charged with unspoken tension. He poured into his cup, then lifted the bottle slightly toward her.

“Maybe we fight for moments like this” he said finally, his tone unexpectedly tender. Rook frowned slightly, puzzled “Like this ?”

Davrin raised an eyebrow as he handed her the cup “Yeah. Moments where we remember we’re still alive. That, despite everything we’ve been through, there’s still something good left.”

A small, hesitant smile appeared on Rook’s lips, genuine but fragile. She accepted the cup and took a sip, letting the warm, bitter wine burn its way down her throat “You always have an answer for everything, don’t you ?” she teased, though her voice carried a note of gratitude.

Davrin chuckled softly, the sound rough but sincere “Not always. But maybe tonight, I do.”

They continued drinking in silence, but the atmosphere between them had shifted. The barriers had cracked, leaving space for a closeness they’d never truly acknowledged before. The fire’s embers dimmed further, but the warmth between them remained, lingering in the quiet connection they’d found in the night.

The wine, mixed with exhaustion and the warmth of the moment, had stripped away their defenses, exposing pieces of themselves they had kept hidden for too long.

Without thinking too much, Rook leaned slightly toward Davrin, her shoulder brushing against his. The gesture was natural, almost instinctive, but it did not go unnoticed. Davrin slowly turned his head toward her, and their eyes met again—this time more intense, raw with unspoken emotion. “You know, Rook..” he began, his voice low and a little rough, “I don’t think you realize how much you matter.”

Rook blinked, caught off guard by his words “What ?”

“I mean” he continued, struggling to find the right words, “you make all of this… bearable. Without you, I…” He stopped, shaking his head slightly, as if banishing a thought too heavy to voice.

Rook stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. It wasn’t often that Davrin let his guard down, and even rarer that he allowed himself to be vulnerable. She placed her cup on the ground, her fingers trembling slightly, and turned fully toward him.

“Davrin…” she murmured hesitantly.

But he raised a hand, brushing her face lightly, as though afraid she might vanish “Let me finish” he said softly, almost pleading “You’re the only thing that reminds me I’m still human. That I can feel something other than rage or fear.”

Rook remained still, unable to look away. Davrin’s words resonated within her, breaking down the last of the walls she had built around herself. She took a deep breath, her gaze locked with his.

“You’re not alone, Davrin” she whispered finally “Not as long as I’m here.”

The space between them seemed to dissolve. The air was charged with tension, thick with something unsaid but undeniably present. Rook felt her heart race as Davrin slowly leaned closer. The world around them faded, leaving only this moment—this singular instant where time seemed to stand still. Their lips brushed lightly at first, hesitant, testing the boundary they were on the verge of crossing. Then, slowly, they met in full, sealing what months of silence and stolen glances had left unresolved.

The kiss was gentle at first, a blend of uncertainty and relief. But it quickly deepened, fueled by a passion they could no longer suppress. The fire, now reduced to glowing embers, cast a soft, golden glow around them. Yet the warmth they shared far outshone that of the fading flames.

The kiss became an anchor, a way for Rook and Davrin to ground themselves in a reality they were just beginning to grasp. In their closeness, the invisible scars of their souls seemed to fade. Davrin’s lips were firm yet careful, as though afraid to shatter the fragile connection they had just forged. Rook, for her part, felt her own defenses dissolve under the intensity of the moment. The weight of years, losses, and regrets seemed to vanish, replaced by a persistent, gentle warmth.

Her hands, hesitant at first, rested on Davrin’s shoulders before slowly sliding down his arms. Each movement carried a tenderness she had never dared to express, as if touching this man was itself an act of vulnerability. As she drew closer, their breaths mingled, forming a shared rhythm—intimate and intoxicating.

Davrin reached up and gently brushed aside a stray lock of hair that had fallen across Rook’s face. The gesture, almost too delicate for his often-calloused hands, sent a shiver coursing through her body. “Rook” he murmured, his voice rough and laden with emotions he couldn’t quite articulate.

She answered with a trembling smile, her eyes gleaming with a light he had never seen before “You don’t have to say anything, Davrin..” she whispered, her voice low but resolute, carrying a mix of desire and comfort.

They leaned into each other slowly, unhurried, as if the world around them had slowed to a crawl. Their hands explored hesitantly but confidently, discovering the warmth and solidity of the other. Rook felt the roughness of his gloves against her skin as he brushed her cheek, but instead of recoiling, she welcomed it—a tangible reminder of the trials they had faced together.

The tension that had hung between them for months now erupted in this singular moment. Davrin pulled her closer, his strong arms wrapping around her in an embrace that was both protective and possessive. His lips left hers to trail a burning path along her jawline, moving downward toward her neck. Rook tilted her head slightly, wordlessly offering a vulnerability she had never allowed herself to show.

Each kiss was a silent promise, each touch a way to fill the voids left by their silences and absences. Davrin guided her gently, his movements deliberate yet assured, until she lay back on the ground. The dying embers of the fire cast flickering shadows across their entwined forms.

He paused for a moment, his gaze locking with hers. In his eyes, Rook saw the turmoil within him—a blend of raw desire and restraint, as if he feared crossing a line that could never be undone. But Rook, with a simple yet firm gesture, placed her hand on his cheek, her fingers lightly grazing his stubble.

“It’s okay” she murmured, her words barely more than a breath.

That was all the assurance Davrin needed. His lips found hers again, more fervent this time, driven by an urgency they no longer tried to conceal. His hands slid along her sides, seeking the edge of her tunic. When his fingers brushed her bare skin, the warmth of his touch drew a soft gasp from her lips—a sound that seemed to reignite the fading energy of the embers around them.

Rook, in turn, let her fingers explore the lines of Davrin's back, tracing each scar she knew by sight but had never touched. Her hands lingered on the taut muscles of his shoulders, uncovering a restrained strength he now seemed willing to share with her.

“Rook…” he murmured again, her name falling from his lips like a prayer, as if saying it anchored him in this fragile, precious reality.

She responded with a soft laugh, barely audible, her fingers lazily tracing small circles along the nape of his neck “You always say my name too much.”

“Because it matters” he replied without hesitation, his words deliberate and unflinchingly sincere.

Her eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the simplicity and depth of his answer. Their gazes locked once more, and this time, there was no space left between them, no hesitation or fear. This moment was theirs alone—a stolen fragment of eternity in a world that had offered them so little mercy.

Rook slightly sat up, her hands sliding over Davrin’s chest, deliberately tracing the contours of his muscles with curiosity. She bit her lower lip, a mischievous spark in her eyes, before gently pulling at the fabric of his tunic. Her agile fingers began to unbutton his shirt, but before she could go further, Davrin’s hand grabbed hers.

“Rook, wait…” he murmured, his deep voice tinged with hesitation.

She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “What ? You want to keep that on ?” she teased, but her tone held a note of challenge.

Davrin let out a light sigh, a mix of frustration and amusement. “Just… take your time.”

Rook rolled her eyes, a sly smile stretching across her lips “Alright, Mr. Cautious.” But instead of being deterred, she took advantage of his moment of distraction to reverse their positions with surprising agility. In one fluid movement, she gently pushed him onto his back, straddling him.

A flash of surprise crossed Davrin’s features, but he didn’t protest. On the contrary, he seemed frozen in the moment, his eyes fixed on her, captivated by the confidence she radiated. Rook, now seated on his hips, crossed her arms and looked at him with a smile that betrayed both the alcohol in her blood and a deeper desire. “So, you want me to take my time ?” she asked, her voice soft but provocative.

She began to rock slightly, her hips creating a slow but calculated motion that instantly made Davrin shiver. Beneath her, she felt the tension in his body, each muscle seeming to tighten from her movement. The shiver she provoked in him fed her own boldness.

Rook leaned in slowly, bringing her lips to his neck. Her kisses were initially light, almost innocent, but quickly grew more intense, marked by a hunger she no longer tried to hide. Her teeth brushed against his skin, her lips capturing each frantic beat of his pulse.

“Rook…” Davrin’s voice rose again, but this time, it was rougher, almost strangled.

She barely lifted her head, her lips still grazing his skin. “Hm ?” she responded, feigning innocence while pressing her hips harder against him.

A low growl escaped Davrin as he closed his eyes for a moment, his hands instinctively rising to grasp Rook’s hips. His fingers, broad and rough, settled firmly on her, holding her in place while applying gentle pressure. He began to massage her softly, his thumbs tracing circles on her sides, causing a sigh that quickly turned into a muffled moan from Rook.

The sound she made seemed to trigger something in him. Davrin, still beneath her, tightened his grip, his hands guiding Rook’s movements. Encouraged by this response, she increased the pace slightly, grinding her hips against his with more determination.

Rook felt the heat rise within her, but also within him. The pressure beneath her became more and more obvious, Davrin’s erection stirring, trapped but impossible to ignore. This direct contact, though obscured by their clothes, added a layer of tension that was almost unbearable.

“You know you’re playing with fire” murmured Davrin, his deep voice resonating in the air between them. She lifted her eyes to him, her lips reddened from their kisses. A bold smile played on her face “So what ? Maybe I like it.”

Davrin responded with an intense look, his hands sliding from her hips to her thighs, where they lingered, caressing them with a deliberate slowness. Rook, caught up in this dance of temptation, allowed her head to fall back slightly, her hair cascading around her face as she lost herself in the sensations he was awakening in her.

The fire that burned beside them seemed pale in comparison to the heat intensifying between their bodies. Their proximity, heightened by the alcohol and exhilaration, made them forget everything that wasn’t this moment, this game where neither seemed ready to yield.

Rook wasted no time once she had removed Davrin’s shirt, exposing his sculpted chest, covered in scars. She swiftly removed her own tunic with a speed that betrayed her impatience, revealing her pale skin, illuminated by the last embers of the fire. Her movements were almost feverish, driven by a mix of raw excitement and irresistible desire. Her dark eyes locked onto Davrin with an intensity that made him feel both vulnerable and exhilarated.

When she placed her hands on the waistband of his trousers, she didn’t bother asking for permission. With quick and precise movements, she undid them and lowered the fabric, accompanied by a low murmur, almost inaudible, betraying her impatience. She continued by removing Davrin’s undergarments in one swift motion, her haste causing her to lose a little of her usual gentleness.

A rough groan escaped Davrin’s lips as his erection was freed, the sensation of the cool air contrasting with the searing heat radiating between them. Rook, however, paused for a moment, her gaze fixed on him. A wave of desire passed through her body, visible in the slight tremor of her hands as she reached out to him.

She gently placed her hand on him, her warm, soft palm contrasting with the firmness she felt beneath her fingers. The mere contact made Davrin shudder, a sigh escaping his throat as he lost himself in the sensations she was giving him. Rook, aware of the effect she had on him, gave a satisfied smile before she began to move.

Her grip tightened slightly as she traced a slow movement, sliding from the base to the tip, exploring every inch of sensitive skin under her fingers. Each gesture was precise, almost methodical, yet laced with obvious amusement. Rook wasn’t just touching him; she was playing with him, testing his reactions and relishing every shiver she provoked.

Davrin tried to speak, but the words died in his throat as Rook subtly increased the pace. Her hand moved with a fluidity that contrasted with the raw energy she exuded, her motions becoming more and more confident. With every back-and-forth, Davrin arched slightly, his hands clutching the ground to maintain a semblance of control.

Rook, on the other hand, couldn’t help but murmur, almost to herself “You’re so beautiful like this” Her words were low, almost inaudible, but carried a disarming sincerity.

She slightly adjusted the angle of her movement, adding a subtle twist to her action. This small change made Davrin groan, his breath growing faster and more erratic. Rook looked up at him, observing his face marked by pleasure, each twitch of his features fueling her own desire.

Her other hand lightly pressed against the inside of Davrin’s thigh, her fingers tracing small circles on his sensitive skin, further amplifying the intensity of his sensations. She continued to caress him, her movements becoming a perfect blend of gentleness and firmness, as though she were trying to prolong this moment while pushing him to his limits.

The sound of their breaths intermingling filled the space, layering over the distant crackling of the embers. Davrin could no longer contain his reactions, each groan he let out rewarding Rook’s efforts. She wasn’t just touching him; she seemed to read him, anticipating every need, every unspoken desire, responding with almost unsettling precision.

When she slowed down slightly, her fingers now playing more softly with him, Davrin finally opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. His pupils were clouded with desire, but also with genuine amazement at the intensity of the connection they shared.

“Rook…” he murmured, his voice broken by pleasure.

She responded with a playful smile, but her movements didn’t falter. On the contrary, she seemed determined to explore every reaction, every shiver that passed through his body, savouring the effect she had on him and on herself.

Davrin, completely overwhelmed by sensation, let out a long, trembling sigh. His body was taut, every muscle quivering under the intense desire burning within him. A faint bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, a testament to the feverish heat that enveloped them both. His breath, uneven and ragged, mingled with soft whimpers—sounds he never thought he was capable of making, yet which betrayed the depth of his arousal.

In his eyes burned a primal need, a silent plea. He wanted her to stop teasing, to abandon the preliminaries and give herself to him completely. Every fibre of his being screamed his desire, his hands clenching tightly on Rook’s thighs as he fought the urge to take matters into his own hands.

Rook, fully aware of the state she had brought him to, leaned in slightly, her lips brushing against his ear. Her voice, soft and low, carried a calculated sensuality. Each word she spoke seemed to glide over his skin like a searing caress “You want more, don’t you, Davrin ? You want me, don’t you ?”

He could only nod, unable to form a coherent response. That simple gesture made Rook smile—a smile laced with both dominance and tenderness. Slowly, she guided her body, adjusting the position of her hips until the tip of Davrin’s erection grazed the entrance of her intimacy. Even the lightest contact sent shivers through them both.

Rook let out a soft moan, feeling the wetness trickling down her thighs. Her body reacted to the arousal with an almost startling intensity, and she could no longer deny the urgency of her own desire. She straightened slightly, shifting the angle of her pelvis to align their bodies. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as she gently rubbed Davrin’s erection against the entrance of her core.

The heat and texture made Davrin shudder, his eyes closing as his head fell back. “Rook…” he breathed, his voice hoarse and nearly breaking.

Rook didn’t make him wait any longer. In one fluid motion, she lowered herself slowly, allowing her body to take him in inch by inch. Their moans mingled, one deep and guttural, the other higher-pitched and trembling. The sensation of finally being joined sent a wave of raw pleasure through them, as if their anticipation and teasing had heightened the intensity of the moment.

She paused for a moment, savouring the fullness of feeling him inside her. Davrin, meanwhile, gripped her hips firmly, as if anchoring this moment in reality. But soon, Rook began to move. Her hips rolled with sensual grace, setting a slow but relentless rhythm.

Her hands slid over Davrin’s chest, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles as she gradually increased the pace. Her movements alternated between deep, languid strokes and shorter, quicker ones, creating a variation of sensations that left them both gasping for breath.

Davrin, lost in pleasure, couldn’t stop his hands from exploring her body. His fingers glided along her waist, brushed against her ribs, and finally settled on her breasts. He cupped them gently, his warm palms pressing against their firmness. His touch grew more insistent, his thumbs tracing circles over her sensitive peaks, drawing louder moans from Rook.

Encouraged by his reactions, she quickened the movement of her hips, each thrust becoming more deliberate, more urgent. The sound of their skin meeting, mixed with their sighs and moans, resonated in the heavy air of the camp. Rook, her hair clinging slightly to her sweat-dampened forehead, leaned down once more to capture Davrin’s lips in a voracious kiss, her tongue exploring his in a dance as passionate as the one their bodies shared.

Their synchronised movements, their ragged breaths, and the fire of desire burning within them drove them inexorably towards a point of no return, a place where nothing else but this moment existed.

Their bodies in motion seemed perfectly attuned, an instinctive dance where every movement found its answer in the other. Davrin, lying beneath Rook, savoured every second. His hands roamed her hips and thighs with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of their lovemaking. Rook’s moans filled the night air, her movements becoming faster and more erratic, a clear sign she was nearing her climax.

Every roll of her hips, every press against him, heightened the pleasure building between them like an unstoppable tide. Davrin watched her, mesmerised by the sight of her flushed cheeks, her laboured breaths, and the way she gave herself so completely to their shared desires. His own pleasure had reached an almost unbearable peak, but he held back, basking in the intensity of this shared moment.

Rook was the first to let herself go. A cry, almost primal, escaped her lips as her body tensed, her movements slowing and then stilling as a wave of pure ecstasy coursed through her. She trembled slightly, her head tilting back, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.

In the aftermath, Rook slowly straightened, her gaze alight with a mischievous and determined glint. She knew Davrin hadn’t yet reached his own release, and she had no intention of leaving him wanting. Without hesitation, she moved with surprising agility, withdrawing herself from him slowly, the motion sending a shiver through them both.

Her eyes immediately fell on Davrin’s erection, proud and throbbing, still slick from their union. Driven by her desire to see him unravel, Rook leaned towards him. Her fingers brushed along his length—a light, teasing touch—before she resolved to go further.

She leaned closer, her mouth opening slightly as she took him in with a disarming tenderness. The warmth of her lips and the pressure of her tongue made Davrin growl, his breath catching as his head fell back. Rook, focused and meticulous, was intent on giving him intense pleasure.

Her movements were slow at first, exploring every one of Davrin’s reactions. Her tongue glided along his entire length before descending again, creating a rhythm that alternated between gentleness and intensity. Her hands joined in, one gripping the base of his erection with firm pressure, the other softly caressing his thighs.

Davrin, completely lost in the sensations, let out low, guttural moans, his hands gripping the ground as if to anchor himself in reality. Every flick of her tongue, every fluid motion of Rook’s, brought him closer to release. She, in turn, showed no hesitation, subtly quickening her pace as she felt Davrin’s trembling intensify.

“Rook… I’m going to…” he murmured hoarsely, almost pleadingly.

She didn’t slow down; on the contrary, her movements became faster, more intense, her lips tightly sealed around him as she drove him to the edge. Davrin let out a muffled cry as his body tensed, a final shudder running through him as he released.

Rook didn’t pull away, taking in everything he had to give. Her lips stayed locked around him, her movements slowing to extend his pleasure. When he was finally spent, she swallowed with an almost provocative grace, her throat working softly before she looked up at him, a satisfied smile playing on her reddened lips.

She then sat up, her movements betraying a hint of fatigue but also a deep satisfaction. She collapsed against him, her head resting on his chest, which was still rising and falling rapidly. Their bodies, still warm from their passion, intertwined in a silence broken only by the sound of their breathing. Rook closed her eyes, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she murmured softly, “That was… perfect.”

The night had long since fallen, wrapping the deserted campsite in a tranquil darkness, broken only by the glimmer of the stars. Their bodies, still warm from their passion, had come together in a soft, almost innocent embrace. Rook, at peace, had given in to her exhaustion. Her head now rested on Davrin’s shoulder, her hair scattered across his chest. Her steady breathing was a comforting contrast to the intensity of what they had just shared.

Davrin, still awake, gazed up at the stars above them. Their cold, distant light seemed to silently observe this stolen moment of peace amid the chaos of their lives. A rare, sincere smile spread across his lips, an expression almost foreign to a face often marked by hardness and pragmatism. His hand, resting with unexpected gentleness on Rook’s back, traced light circles on her skin—a subconscious gesture that revealed a tenderness he rarely allowed himself to show.

In that moment of calm, the weight of the world seemed to have vanished. The responsibilities, the battles, the wounds of the past… all of it felt so distant, like a faint and far-off echo. Here, under the night sky, there was only the comforting warmth of Rook against him and the soothing silence of the night.

A gentle breeze swept through the campsite, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees. The soft, almost melodic sound seemed to whisper an undeniable truth: this moment was unique, precious. A fleeting bubble of serenity in a brutal world.

Davrin lowered his gaze to Rook, watching her relaxed face, her features softened by sleep. A fleeting thought crossed his mind, almost poetic in its simplicity: she was his refuge, his light in the darkness. Through her, he had found a reason to smile, a reason to believe—if only for a brief moment—that life could offer something more than violence and survival.

As his eyelids began to grow heavy, Davrin drew in a deep breath, letting the subtle scent of the night mingle with that of Rook. The world could wait. For now, they were together, and that was all that mattered.

The stars continued to shine, silent witnesses to this fragile yet beautiful union. And when sleep finally claimed him, his last waking memory was the gentle sensation of having found, at least for this one night, shelter in someone else’s arms.

--

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[lunastarlight593]

Gonna talk about my Cannon Rook and Dragon age a lot on here so I’m introducing Anna “Taron” de Riva!!! I love her so much and the questions are from @pinkhallaclub

1)Where in the Thedas is your Rook from?

Anna is born and raise in Tevinter, specifically from Minrathous until she was 13-15 years old

2)What is your character’s alignment?

Chaotic neutral or true neutral. Anna will do whatever she believes is right, even if it seems wrong to others and will be really reckless/won’t think before doing. At least at the beginning of the game

3)Race and subclass?

A human mage

4)If your Rook was companion, where would they be found?

She would be found in Minrathous on a contract, kinda. The “contract” is actually one she failed a year or two ago, before the game story takes place of course, and her mentor was killed by the man/contract she was supposed to kill and has finally found him again after that failure

5)What emotion did they usually pick?

Mostly the sarcasm/sassy ones and the stoic/serious ones

6)What companion are you platonically close with?

I would say Anna is close to Davrin and Bellara the most. After spending time with Davrin, she sees him as a genuine chill guy and not as bad as she thought for a Warden. And sees Bellara as a younger sister, like having Bellara ramble to her about anything

7)Romantically close with?

Lucanis :)

8)Who are they suspicious of?

Neve only cause she doesn’t trust any mages from Minrathous

9)Does your Rook get along with their chosen Faction?

Yes but after the fucking up the Talons operation, its now a “meh”, but slowly getting along again

10)Are they proficient in playing any instruments?

Yes, Anna plays a elven bass, specifically her father’s bassve

11)Weapon of choice?

Dagger and elemental orb, does use a staff from time to time tho. Uses thunder magic but knows a few neurotic spells

12)What is their orientation?

Bisexual

13)What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it?

I mean to her it’s a necessary cause she is a Crow but if it’s not for her job, she still will depend on the situation

14)What hobbies does your Rook have?

Anna plays music and dances, training either her fighting skills or magic, reads but not as much, gambling in card games and making bets with her fellow Crows, cooking, making poisons and alchemy, and origami

15)What NPCs do they like? Which one's do they dislike?

Anna loves Antoine and Evka and is she is honestly surprised to get along well with the Wardens. Has a love/hate relationship with Viago, sees her as a brother but after sending her away, Anna is piss with him still but their relationship gets better later on in the story. Love Teia but who doesn’t love Teia. Kinda hates Illario but not really at the same time. Really hates the First Warden and Governor Ivenci but yet again she hates politicians/military

16)Do they have a favorite creature in the Thedas?

Likes snakes, halla, and birds

17)Do they enjoy life as an adventurer?

She does, especially when Anna is traveling with Varric to find Solas cause it’s not her typical contract

18)What would your Rook be doing if they weren't recruited by Varric?

Honestly, she would probably be either kick out by crows or might even be kill by them. Or she would still be finding that failed “contract”

19)How do you think they'll meet their end?

Either old age or on a contract

20)Would they side with Solas or fight him?

Anna would fight him for sure

21)What is your Rook's favorite ability?

Void Blade and Tempest

22)What languages is your character fluent in?

Common tongue and Tevinter, some Antivan, and a bit of elvish. But she knows every curse word lol

23)What do they do after an absolute crisis?

She will keep acting her usual self, until Anna is by herself and she will just yell and scream and cry

24)Does your character believe in the afterlife?

Not really

25)What specialization best represents your Rook?

Spellblade cause it was specialise with the Crows but it also works for her story too

26)What animal best represents your Rook?

A cat or maybe a falcon

27)What was their life like before the events of Veilguard?

Lived in Minrathous for 13-15 years, jump on a boat and landed in Trevio, robbed people including Viago, was brought in to the crows by Viago, Viago and someone else(don’t know his name yet)train Anna, loses her other mentor due to her mistakes on a contract, meets Lucanis and gets along with him, Anna gets captured by the Venatori while finding the contract, and gets magic at the age of 32 because of the Venatori

28)Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader?

Took charge as soon as when Varric ask her to, but Anna is starting to regret it/thinks she is a awful leader after the dragon attack and Weisshaupt

29)If you could choose a different faction for your Rook, which one would they have joined and why?

Anna would either join the Shadow Dragons or Lords of Fortune. For the Shadow Dragons: if she had stayed in Minrathous longer, Anna would have found out about them and joined. For Lords of Fortune: would have probably ended up there instead, Anna didn’t know where the boat would have taken her when she snuck on

30)What's your favorite thing about your Rook?

Anna’s sassness and her relationships with the characters(and looks cause god damn she is fine)

[gingervitus]

WIP Thursday (because I missed Wednesday)

So I've had a gnarly sinus infection all week and haven't been able to bring myself to do much writing at all before today.

Here's a snip snap of the next part of Beneath the Stone Fruit Trees (it's like 2/3 done so bear with me)

Maybe Minrathous was easier with all the distractions it provided. She had company in Neve. Not to say that Teia and perhaps even brief instances of Viago haven't been appreciated. Truthfully, she always feels like a bother, like she's interrupting something going to Teia, which leaves her to be chatted to by Illario as the evenings slowly but surely grow longer. Perhaps most shockingly, she finds herself vaguely enjoying Illario’s company, and much like herself, he continues to be unemployed so there is no concern over taking up too much of his time. A luxury that he seems to take in stride. Rook, though, isn't used to all the spare time she's been afforded since taking her leave from the Lords. Spending time busying her hands and mind has always kept her out of trouble historically. Now she relies on a group of Antivan Crows in a stunning twist of events for that, though they do not always seem to keep her from striking a nerve of Caterina's.

She considers the amount of light in the sky or perhaps the lack of it. The staff likely hasn't begun to arrive for the day. With the back of her hand, she rubs whatever exhaustion remains in her eyes. If this is what Lucanis felt like during their time at the Lighthouse, she's going to have a serious sit down discussion with him on the value of sleep. She pads across the expanse of the room, bathed in the navy light of predawn to pluck a shirt out of his wardrobe that never seems to empty. 

In the darkness, she fumbles with the buttons. “Too many buttons,” she recalls mumbling into his mouth one fateful day in the Fade. Mind, this was just after he had all but bashfully asked her to follow him to the pantry. Uneasy fingers had passed over the clasps of her own top, snapping one in the middle completely off. She was amused to find one thing Lucanis wasn't able to deftly accomplish with nimble hands, but conversely, he had been incredibly apologetic. 

“I'm afraid I… do not know what I'm doing.”

That face, burning red and embarrassed, plays fondly in her mind. She settles with half of the buttons done much like she did the day that followed their extracurriculars in the pantry. Just enough to not give a passerby a full eyeful. However, when she steps out into the hall in the villa, she earnestly misses Davrin's waggling eyebrows and Bellara's bright excited grin staring back at her. Arms wrapped around herself, she proceeds down the mostly empty hallway. Having once admired its tall ceilings, she now feels impossibly tiny and alone.

Rook does not miss the Lighthouse. She does not miss the Fade. In fact, if posed with the question now, she would be inclined to say she would sooner bunk with Caterina herself than go back. That does not change the fact that she misses her team. Her friends. Her people.

Passing through the quiet halls of Villa Dellamorte feels as empty as the Fade. Void of something she can't quite place exactly. Despite the summer heat, she always feels a chill. Even when there is staff bustling about, she is still somehow all by her lonesome. She can't even imagine what such a place would have been like to visit as a child, let alone grow up in it. Sad, probably, for a set of boys already mourning the loss of nearly everything but each other. Dreadful, likely, for the matriarch left with almost nothing. Five children. Six of eight grandchildren. Her heart hurts to think of it.

[mossarchives]

Veiltober Day 1 - Veilguard

Name: Rook Brosca-Aranai de Riva Pronouns: They/Them Race/Class: Qunari Spellblade Faction: The Antivan Crows Background: The adoptive Qunari child of Warden-Commander Beth Brosca and Zevran Aranai, trained in magic by her aunt Morrigan, and now leader of the Veilguard.

What a nightmare… 

Rook sighs, letting their legs dangle into the ether of the veil swirling below the Lighthouse. One wrong move and they might slip into the void forever, though they can’t deny there’s a part of them that is curious what would happen. It’s the fade, so they wouldn’t die. They’d just float. Would the Dreadwolf save them? Or maybe the Caretaker? If things got desperate, maybe Davrin could send Assan to lug them back to semi-solid ground. 

Most of them is just… tired. They’ve been running all across Thedas like a nug in a maze, fighting, recruiting, arguing, learning, leading -- it was starting to wear on them. Between the numbness in their fingers from channeling mana and the various half-healed wounds across their skin, their whole body is wrapped in a dull ache. 

The view is nice, though. That sunrise warmth casting a gold glow over the pale stones with thin white clouds swirling beneath their feet. Rook lets their mind drift with those pale wisps, trying to pretend they’re alone in the world and not the far-too-young leader of a group fighting blighted gods.

They’re not sure how long they’ve sat there before footsteps bring them back to themself. A pair of black boots catch their eye first, then the bottom of a mug being offered down to them. Lucanis is quiet, but his mouth twists upwards in one corner. It’s more of a smile than smirk, and Rook accepts the mug of coffee he’s offering with a grin of their own. 

“Thanks.” 

He straightens up and Bellara appears at his side, followed by Davrin. “Mind if we join you?” 

“Not at all.” Rook pats the stone beside them.  “Plenty of space for more on this rock. Just watch your step, I’m not sure what happens if you slip.” 

“Let’s not find out.” Lucanis cautions, taking a seat on one side of them while Bellara flops down on their other side. Davrin settles in further back with Assan sprawling in his lap, chirping happily at being included. 

“I’m with you on that.” Rook takes a sip of coffee, kicking their heels back against the rock beneath them. A childish motion that they quickly put an end to, frowning into the drink. Just another reminder of how unsuited they are to leading the group.

Bellara smiles sweetly at her. “Maybe there are other ways we can test it. Safer ways! Maybe Assan can scout it out for us!”

“I doubt it.” Davrin’s words are affectionate but ring with exhaustion. “We’re still working on his training.” 

 A new voice adds to the discussion as three more join them, Taash reaching out to ruffle Rook’s hair as she passes. “We could tie a rope around your waist and throw you over, see what happens.” 

“Not me!” Rook bats her hands away and then smiles at Harding and Neve. “I’m too big, we need someone smaller!”

Harding holds up her hands, retreating to Davrin’s side before Taash can get any closer. “Not it. What about Manfred?” 

“Absolutely not.” As if summoned, Emmerich and the skeleton in question appear. Manfred sets a stool down behind the group for his summoner to rest on, the man waggling a stern finger at Harding. “You cannot simply throw him around!” 

“That’s enough.” There’s a tired sigh from the resident detective who eases herself beside Bellara. “We’ve already invaded Rook’s hiding spot, let’s not fill it with pointless chatter, hm?” 

The group quiets down at her words, settling down to take in the view. Bellara and Harding occasionally point out a strange cloud or sparking light, while Rook raises the mug towards Lucanis, who cheers them with a slight roll of his eyes. The quiet had been nice, but Rook finds they don’t mind the intrusion. They may have come together under odd circumstances, but were united in more than just their goals.

[kunosoura]

veilguard final thoughts

I liked the moment to moment gameplay even if it was comically obvious they didn’t want you playing mage because of the resistances. Went through the whole game building towards stacking shock damage, guess what was never once an enemy weakness in the final level lol no was in fact resisted by quite a bit. Plus losing Davrin on the penultimate quest then having to leave taash because they were the only one who was obviously fit to leave behind leaving me warriorless on the final run. Or the fact that you don’t have a warrior for like the first quarter of the game. Yannow.

As for the writing, I liked some parts of it more than I was expecting. I think basically every companion puts their worst foot forward and grows more likeable as you know them, but not in like a ME2 Miranda where they’re intentionally prickly and hard to like at first. More that their characters are established in quip heavy ways that embody the game’s issues with tone, but you only get to know their actual compelling sides way later. Except for Davrin, who was introduced as a straightforward no nonsense solid sort of guy that I immediately liked because at that point he was interesting by virtue of how average he was compared to the cartoonishness of the other characters early on, only for him to slowly become a pit bull guy for his griffon in ways that could become a little hard to take seriously at times. Him dying in my run was genuinely a bit of a gut punch. Taash especially grew on me a surprising amount; I was worried they’d be a retread of the worst aspects of Sera (intentionally abrasive and kind of meant to not be liked) with the worst aspects of Dorian (kind of hamfisted lgbt very special episode type character arc), and while they don’t exactly beat those charges there’s also more compelling and interesting things going on there than I expected.

In general, the game saves a lot of its strongest moments for later. I like that the ending wasn’t just a retread of the ME2 loyalty mission and it pushed back against the “you can do it perfectly!” Nature of that writing by having a few no-win choices. The choice on which city to save felt a bit contrived, but choosing who you send into imminent danger did a better job of setting itself up with context. The Solas conversations did a surprising amount of work to build up that tense rapport between him and Rook, and as natural as it is to play it like the solaswife sequel I like that you do also get a lot of chances to push back, argue, even oppose him bitterly. The Varric twist was just bad, though - contrived and for what? Very very little would change if he wasn’t in the game. You don’t even care like you would if he had died in Inquisition or 2 because he and Rook do not have any actual rapport. The fucking evil council whatever at the end was even worse LOL. It was also pretty comically obvious the Inquisitor was only in the game for the solaswives too, admittedly that's what I chose for my run but I cannot imagine what possible purpose they serve returning if you aren't gunning for the "good" ending.

I’m more willing than most to accept that the game was of limited scope and thus they didn’t want to import tons of choices into the game, but a few were glaringly omitted. Harding talking about the Divine, Morrigan presumably being identical regardless of whether she’s spent the last few decades with the love of her life and raised a child, the codexes and missives talking about Ferelden and Orlais with no mention of who is in charge leading their resistances, the wardens having to exist in a complete void of context regarding how the last blight ended, what happened at Weisshaupt in inquisition, Awakening once again (though who isn’t used to that by now)… A few extra voice lines or codex entries supporting these would have done wonders to make it feel less cut off from context. Do that, be just a little more willing to have the main factions be morally ambiguous and market the game more honestly as a spinoff and I think 90% of the criticism could have been cut off at the head. Except for the people complaining about the "forced lgbt shit", there's no saving them and they've literally cropped up for the release of every game all the way back to origins.

I don’t think the writers hated dragon age like some said, I actually think there are moments that show a surprising regard for the world’s history and complexity; rather, I think that the decision to drastically reduce the choice continuity came from above the creative team, probably when the game got restructured a second time, and when the writing team got purged a relatively inexperienced team did the best they could, which manifested a lot of problems (from the big like retconning the Crows to tone down their worst aspects to the small like that goofy ass inclusion of the ritual cup from origins).

Um, all in all, better than people are saying but really held back by the obvious multiple mid-development reboots and even then not all the problems can be laid there. A very off-putting start that ends up better than I expected. Very marvel though, from the quippy dialogue to the credits with a stinger and "The veilguard will return" like was that meant to be a joke. a bit of humor to make me laugh. as if we don't already know that there's no reasonable future where Mass Effect 5 is successful and bioware doesn't get closed so this is the last game in the series.

I wish we'd gotten to see more of Minrathous, not the muddy ugly docks we were stuck in but the really cool high fantasy things we only got a taste of at the very beginning and very ending of the game. Oh and um why was the antagonist of the crows storyline a theythem. Not to be #enbyphobic but that is an evil 40 year old politician. Was that your idea of theymab representation.