#ward laidir

[grimwarden]

Taash Week, Day 1, Fire/Dragon @datvcompanionweeks Taash x Rook (he/him) vows

Fingers interwind lovingly, they bring his hand to their lips for a gentle kiss. In return, he tucks their hair behind their ear, reaching up to peck their forehead.

"May your passion always burn as bright as your fire."

"It burns the brightest for you." They say in quite voice, for his ears only. "I love you."

[amochi]

I’m obsessed with my rook, this is Ward

Screenshots under cut

[hustlemeanokay]

Trouble . Before & After . Ward "Rook" Laidir & Neve Gallus . Dragon Age the Veilguard

[synelven]

i finally can add rook to my canon lineup !!

[ddeadbot]

I made a pretty dwarf in dragon age veilguard

[xtrioa]

my veilgaurd ocs:3

[venetinea]

I guess he tripped on a fancy bird then. A little more than best friends vibes, Esh, but go off. (muted Ward's colors for matching sort of)

^^ Original Post by @riadoodles , didn't want to clog it.

[rimbaudthursday]

ROOK LINEUP

(close ups and bios under the cut >:3 )

Jin Ingellvar

A dwarven rouge found in the grand necropolis as a baby. Jin grew up isolated from her fellow watchers and found comfort in exploring the crypts. She has an uncanny ability to tell where the necropolis shuffles its rooms around.

Sihl Ingellvar

An orphaned qunari who wandered into the necropolis as a child and was taken in by the other qunari watchers. Sihl takes pride in both their magical abilities and intimidating appearance.

Ethaari De Riva

A former member of the antaam who felt his life under the qun lost purpose after losing his sword. Ethaari decided to join the crows and found new purpose in assassination as well as a new way to follow the qun.

Rintarou De Riva

An elf found by Viago during a contract in Kirkwall. Rintarou thinks of himself as antivan rather than from kirkwall, but sometimes wonders about his home city. A hot-headed assassin that tries not to take life too seriously.

Ward Mercar

A cynical half elf trying to find her place in the world. Ward was used to sleeping rough before being adopted by the Mercars. She tries to make up for her luck in life by helping the downtrodden of Tevinter as a shadow dragon.

Integrity Aldwir

A dalish elf who ran away from her clan and burned his vallislin off. Integrity lived in solitude, moving from town to town for years before joining the veil jumpers.

Cailan Thorne

A former slave that fled Tevinter after stabbing his master. Cailan's plan to head south was interrupted by a sudden darkspawn attack, resulting in her being recruited by the wardens. She remains secretive about her past until certain events in Minrathous bring it to light.

Nels Laidir

A Lord of Fortune with no idea what his true origin is. Cheerful and optimistic about most situations, Nels is here for a good time not a long time, and planning to get all the gold and glory while they're at it.

[lkblackham]

Had the image of a half human, half Qunari baby pop in my head and got some good therapy practicing drawing cute babies.

Being the child of a nurse-midwife, I have witnessed many births and many different kinds of new dads (on video, to be clear - my mom didn't drag me around to births in person). And so, it is my belief that Emmrich would definitely be the weepy type of new dad. I love those dads.

My personal fanfic headcanon stuff that may or may not be cringe, I make no apologies:

1) Qunari kids, much like goats, do not fully grow their horns until they hit puberty. Which is definitely for the best, because a) birth OUCH and b) can you imagine a hyperactive 2-year-old running around with what amounts to two giant spears attached to their head?

So for the first 12+ years of their life, they just have cute lil forehead nubbins that still really hurt when they headbutt you during a tantrum.

2) It's a girl. Because we all know that Emmrich has strong Girl Dad energy.

3) Atash and Emmrich had a really tough time with names - both given names and surnames. Atash isn't particularly attached to her surname (Laidir) and so was totally fine with just 'Volkarin' for their kid. Emmrich was insistent on including 'Laidir', however, as he felt very strongly about Atash's heritage and story sharing an equal part with his in naming their daughter. So she's got 2 last names - one for Nevarra and one for Rivain. She can pick whichever she prefers, or neither, or both. What matters is that both are there to begin with.

This line of thinking also, obviously, complicated the given name. It's really hard when you're pretty certain this is going to be your only kid, and you're from two very different cultures with their own ideas about names, AND you have a rather tragically long list of people you love who have passed on and deserve to have a child named after them. Not to mention, both of you have names you just personally like, saved away in your head just in case you ever did have a kid to name.

In the end, Atash and Emmrich came up with a compromise, for which they really hope their daughter won't resent them in the future: they gave her *four* names. One for a family member, one for a fallen friend, one for her Qunari heritage, and one that's just hers and no one else's.

So, all together, it came to:

Lobelia Elannora Lace Nazay Laidir Volkarin

It's. It's a lot. Atash and Emmrich both acknowledge that. But it felt wrong to not include those tributes in their daughter's name.

Besides, this just means she has a lot of options, right? Right? Right. Definitely.

(They also acknowledge that Lace Harding would think this was absolutely ridiculous and laugh at them over it, but that mental image being there is part of why they did it)

And yes, of COURSE they chose a flower name.

4) Manfred is really friggin excited to get the chance to watch someone grow up and maybe teach THEM some things himself. Emmrich is really friggin excited on both a personal and academic level to raise his daughter alongside his ward, teaching her about spirits while Manfred learns from her about mortals.

Manfred's also a really great diaper changer because he doesn't have a nose and he's not squeamish about literally anything.

(Not that Atash or Emmrich take advantage of this.)

(Often.)

BY THE WAY, VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: I do not believe that the default Happy Ending for everyone is having kids. In another universe, Emmrich and Rook are just as happy teaching Manfred how to be a person and mage (or not, if Emmrich became a lich) and going off on their own kid-free adventures. YOU MAKE THE CHOICES THAT ARE BEST FOR YOU and fuck what the tropes say.

This is just *my* fantasy cringe fluff. You do you. ♥️

[grimwarden]

Taash Week, Day 5, Anger/Calm @datvcompanionweeks Taash x Rook experimental prose, pov rook

red

red is the color of fire running through your veins of the scorching sun above red is the color of passion. of your anger burning bright of the sun warming us from above red is the color of our love the bold reclamation of all the hues that surround us one cannot be without the other just as we can't and with your face between my palms, it's like i'm holding the sun in my hands

[chibigingi]

Reviving the Dormant Seed

Chapter Ten: The Nadas Dirthalen

In which Rook seeks information from the Nadas Dirthalen's new Archive Spirit while poor Manfred accidentally creates a classic math problem…

“Well? I’m waiting.”

Neither twin dared to look at one another, as doing so would certainly give up the ghost. Ren didn’t need to feel his sister’s harsh gaze to know to keep his mouth shut; between the two of them, she always spun the best yarn, so much so that, were they raised in a kinder world, she’d have been a wonderful author in her own right. It was frightening how easily she could lie and get away with it, but when one had magic to fall back on, it really shouldn’t have shocked him.

“We were meeting with a friend,” Ash said, plainly, as though it wasn’t at all suspicious that said friend wished to meet in private, nor that said friend happened to be the leader of a cult that worshiped an Elven god their caretaker had once helped banish from this realm. Manfred couldn’t possibly have known this, of course, but how much did Spite see, and how much was he able to relay to Manfred before he caught up with them, neither twin knew. Still, Ash’s demeanor hadn’t wavered in the least. “We wanted to procure some additional supplies from Rivaine, so that Miss Laidir might feel more at home.”

It did make sense, to meet with someone at the docks for such a venture. At least in Ren’s mind. Not that he personally would believe that at face value, but the fact that the crow didn’t immediately call them out was hopeful. There was a chance he might not have gotten a good look at their contact, or if he did, he might not have known the significance in the attire he wore. There was certainly no way he could’ve heard their conversation, not with the wards in place.

Still, suspicion shone in those multitude of eyes, as Spite let out a curious croak. “Smells like lies… and Rook.”

Now those eyes shot to Manfred, as the crow leapt into the air and flew towards the twins. They had only met the spirit on a handful of occasions, though it never seemed to matter much to him as Spite seldom ever seemed to remember them. He’d recognize them as friends of his friends, but their names and who they were never seemed to hold a permanent residence in his mind. The way he landed next to Ash and hopped around, sniffing loudly, despite the form he took, it was clear that the lie he detected before was well on its way to being a forgotten memory, as older, more meaningful ones to the spirit, took over. “Rook? I smell Rook. Rook? Why? Why smell Rook?”

“Because we pulled her from the Fade prison,” Ren said, comfortable enough to address it without exposing themselves to either Spite or Manfred. The crow hopped around him now, sniffing the air around him and growing more excited by the second. “She’s at Arlathan Temple now, if you’d like to go see her and the professor.”

That excited hopping stopped at once, as no sooner had he been given a destination, Spite shot off into the sky without so much as a ‘thank you’ or ‘farewell’ to Manfred and the twins. Ren wasn’t entirely sure this was a good thing for them, but it did give them one last problem to deal with. There was always the hope that Spite’s excitement to see an old friend, who he truly cared about even after all these years, would simply overrun whatever he had witnessed in the warehouse. After all, he was but a simpler spirit, at least compared to Manfred…

If Spite’s immediate departure bothered Manfred, he didn’t show it. Nor was he quick to forget what his friend had said, as he asked, “And who was this friend? Anyone I’d know?”

The fact that he hadn’t mentioned the ‘friend’s’ appearance was hopeful. It either meant that Spite didn’t have the time to mention said ‘friend’s’ wolf-inspired attire, or that Spite didn’t see the significance in it at all. Which meant that was still a chance for them to spin the narrative to their liking without having to resort to outright lying or using magic.

A hope that was immediately dashed when Ash unleashed the spell she had been discreetly brewing since Manfred had caught them leaving the warehouse. “Mind charm…”

Read the chapter here!!!!

[lottiesnotebook]

happy thedas weekend!! im sorry but I see Cara Hawke Laidir/Emmrich Volkarin on your list and I just gotta ask 👀 maybe "I want to learn. Teach me." from the sugar and spice prompts?

So this turned out rather more sugar than spice, because it turns out it is actually VERY DIFFICULT to make Cara and Emmrich actually hook up, but I think I have made a Start here, which I hope counts for Something...

Emmrich Volkarin/Cara Hawke-Laidir, age gap, terrible flirting, Cara is a Horrible Brat

@guacamolleee | @thedasweekend

keep a tender distance

“I’ve never seen anyone talk to spirits the way you do.” Cara Laidir’s eyes are wide and guileless as she gazes up from beneath her lashes, which is, to Emmrich, already suspicious. He’s proud of his optimism, his open-hearted faith that there’s good in everyone, mortal and spirit, if only one can reach out to touch it, but something has him unsettled even before she finishes her sentence: “I want to learn. Teach me?”

She finishes with a bat of those shadow-dark lashes, an unnecessary gilding of the lily. Emmrich has never been anything less than a passionate teacher to any student with the slightest interest in spiritcalling or corpse-speaking, but he has, in his day, met plenty of students who’s interest lay in passions more carnal than charnal. From the way Cara flutters her lashes, arches her back so that he cannot miss the shadow between her breasts, darts out her pink tongue to moisten scarlet-painted lip, he suspects she is of that latter kind, and such entanglements have never been to his taste.

For some, he knows, there is allure in that particular kind of forbidden romance, but he’s always found the idea a little sordid, a little tawdry. Pyrite and cheap paste in place of grave gold, a mockery of the art of love, an art he has always held holy.

Still, he does not know his young leader well enough, yet, to know for certain she is being insincere, for all that she seems to flirt more easily than she breathes: leaning close to Neve’s shoulder as she unpicks a ward, clinging to Davrin’s strong arm as they trudge through the filth of the Hossberg Wetlands, flinging herself recklessly through the air to be caught by Lucanis (or, more often, Spite).

They are not, as a rule, a particularly tactile people, in Nevarra, in the Necropolis. Tenderness is reserved for children, lovers, and the dead. He would know — in his youth, he’d recalled hands covering hands in his mother’s kitchen, in his father’s yard, and applied the same technique to helping his classmates with autopsies, with the drawing of runes. Then, he had received only flinches away, only looks of disgust. He has become accustomed, with the wisdom of age, to keeping a careful distance between himself and his students, lest he risk the appearance of impropriety, of lines becoming blurred that he would never consider crossing.

Cara, as a student, is not content with careful distance, with detailed instruction. “I can’t get this gesture right,” she sighs, lips knotting into a thwarted pout. “I think the angle’s wrong. Could you show me again?”

“Of course-” he begins, and raises his arms to demonstrate. She takes it as invitation, or possibly, as an opening he did not mean to leave, and slips herself into the circle of his arms, head tilted up to gaze studiously at the positioning of his fingers. Her hair smells like salt, where it brushes his nose, like the wild, white-capped sea. Like a distant storm, caught on the wind, brushing his skin with the promise of rain.

“Oh,” she breathes, and he can feel her voice reverberate between his own ribs, low and sweet as a beating heart. “It’s like this?”

There is a moment — only a moment — where he forgets what she was meant to be learning, and then she outstretches her hands and positions them an inch or so below. He can tell, from the flex of the tendons in her wrist, that the magic will not flow through her smoothly with the awkward angle of her thumbs. It should be the most natural thing in the world, to cover her hands with his own, to correct the positioning of her fingers and let the magic spark free, untangled from the nerves and sinews of her flesh.

But there is something artificial in the way she gasps and shudders against him, in how she leans into his touch like a tomb-guardian cat demanding her due. Not the desire — in truth, he cannot read her well enough to tell if her attraction is genuine or feigned, a display she thinks he expects of her — but its expression. In her least-guarded moments — in battle, in fear — she is sharp-edged, shattered glass, ruthless in a way he half-recognises.

In her least-guarded moments, she reminds him of Johanna, and perhaps, knowing what he knows of his former love now, that should repulse him. Of course, as it did with Johanna, it fascinates him, the more because even in her most ruthless moments, she does not slide into needless cruelty. She does what she believes is necessary, and then slips back behind her laughing mask of the heartless pirate princess, as if such matters of life and death and apocalypse are far beyond her ken.

For all Emmrich plays the gentleman necromancer, the fastidious, dapper professor, he has always been a spirit-caller, a corpse speaker, a scalpel born to slice through the illusions of this world to the truths hidden at the heart of theFade. And when Cara pouts and bats her lashes and plays the wicked student in need of Teacher’s reprimand, he itches to pull away her illusions, to cut through to the bones of her and reveal whatever her games and her masks and her secrets attempt to conceal from him.

His first attempt is a failure, of course, perhaps because it follows close on the heels of her own mistake. Spite snarls out something that is, in its own way, a joke, and before he can retort, Cara giggles, and Spite preens. That is, in itself, an offence to his pride — that she’d begged him for lessons for a skill that clearly came as naturally to her as breath, and that he’d been blind to her mischief until she herself slipped up.

“You know, my dear,” he murmurs, a note of chastisement creeping into his voice as he hands her over a brook, “if you want something from me, you need not make a game of it. You need only ask.”

She glances over her shoulder at him, expression darkening momentarily to a scowl before she smooths it into a prettier, less-pleasing pout. “Now where would be the fun in that?” she retorts, and dances ahead before he can muster a reply, dark hair flying in the wind, her personal banner of defiance.

That is the puzzle of her, and he admits, reluctantly, the attraction, too — as Johanna hid her softer, more vulnerable heart behind the sharpened edges of her brilliance, Cara conceals her sharpness, yes, but also her heart and its hungers, behind a glittering verneer of fun. A girl who cares for nothing but glittering trinkets and games that mimic love without its pitfalls and heartaches — a girl like that cannot carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. Perhaps her games and her tricks and her petty deceptions are less a mask than a hiding place, one she has carved out in her own mind, her own heart.

He should, he knows, allow her her secrets and her games, but sometimes — sometimes, still, he catches a glimpse of the bones behind her pretty lies, and, ever-true to his nature, he itches to uncover them.

[synelven]

ward laidir, aka rook

[cirwedh]

Veilguard Playthrough Log

Major Spoilers!!!

1. Satina Laidir

Faction: Lords of Fortune

Class: Rogue (Veil Ranger)

Lineage: Qunari

Personality: Mixed! Slight skew humorous + emotional

—

Who did you bring to the ritual? Neve

What did you do with Mayor Julius? Saved him

Which city did you help with the dragon attack? Minrathous (Archon Maevaris)

Who led the distraction team? Davrin + Assan

Who dismantled the wards? Bellara

How did you deal with Solas? Peaceful + Reunited with Inquisitor

—

Harding - The Stone’s Vengeance

Neve - Cold Justice

Bellara - Archivist

Lucanis - Demon of Defiance

Davrin - Wildwood Benefactor

Taash - Rivain’s Legacy

Emmrich - Life’s Embrace 💜

[heroofshield]

Hi! 4 or 10 for the Laidir prompts, if you want!

Rook being recruited for a mission by a separate faction for their expertise in treasure hunting

@anderfels

The stacks of parchment had appeared overnight.

None of the wards had been tripped, so Zea had no idea how they had gotten there. The note on top had been handwritten with simple cursive script saying

If you're interested, go to the Cobbled Swan. Midday. Wear a blue scarf.

Glancing at a few pieces of parchment, Zea saw that they were maps and reports of treasure located somewhere. Intrigued, she spent the morning going through the stack- trying to learn as much as she could before the meeting.

She was so intrigued by the information that Zea was nearly late to the meeting at the pub, hurrying through the streets trying to not slip on the wet cobblestones, blue scarf tied in her hair. Rushing into the Cobbled Swan with a minute to spare, Zea grabbed a pint of the cheapest beer on tap before taking a seat in a corner- it was out of the way so no one could overhear them but still in view so the prospective client could spot her.

Pulling out the stack of parchment from where she'd hid them to keep safe from the ever-present rain, she drew the votive closer to illuminate the writing better.

"Hope you haven't been waiting long."

Zea looked up at the smooth voice to see a rather pretty woman sit down in the chair across from her. She took in the white and teal leathers and the black square fascinator with netting partially obscuring her face. "Not really..." she said, trailing off hoping that the other woman would give Zea her name.

But the woman just smiled and discreetly signaled for a drink, which arrived quickly- telling Zea that she was a regular at the pub and had a standard order. "I was hired as a go-between for the interested party." she nodded towards the stack while continuing, "What do you think? Can you get the treasure?"

Zea shrugged, "Depends on a lot of things, like who I'm working for for starters."

The other woman gave a coy smile and shook her head, "Sorry, but that's the one thing I can't answer. They need to keep their identity secret for...political reasons." There was a beat of silence before she continued, "But I can tell you that you'd have access to the Shadow Dragons, both in terms of resources and manpower. They have a stake in recovering this artifact."

Zea looked at the older woman's eyes, idly tapping a finger against the wooden tabletop as she turned it all over in her head.

"You came highly recommended from Isabela. Said that we couldn't find anyone better for the treasure hunt. That business with the Rivaini nobles aside that is."

Zea felt her stomach clench at the mention of the Lords of Fortune's leader. It had been over a year since she'd had to flee the country in order to keep her head, but she still considered herself part of the pirate group. "And Isabela sending them in my direction means she's been keeping tabs on me." she thought while straightening up.

"What's in it for me? Other than the whole 'gold and glory' bit."

"There'll probably be Venatori and they won't go without a fight. So there's that as well."

Zea knew the casualness of the comment was by design, she hadn't become a shrewd Wicked Grace player without being able to pick up on things like that, but it had the desired effect. Moving the stack of parchment to the side, she held out her hand, "I think we have a deal. Tell whomever it is that I'll do the treasure hunt, and they'll get whatever it is they're looking for."

"Good to hear." The woman took Zea's hand and gave it a firm shake. "I'll be in contact."

"Wait." Zea called out as the woman stood and took a few steps away from the table. "At least tell me your name."

"Neve. Neve Gallus." Neve threw Zea a wink before sauntering out of the pub. She'd send a note to The Viper that Laidir was onboard for the expedition-and if everything went well the Dragons might get a new recruit as well.

[dymme]

Character Headcanon Generator

Put your OC in the headcanon generator and see how you feel about the headcanon they get!

Thank you @hyperions-light for the tag!

I tag: @sweetjulieapples @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @redheadsramblings @maanmelk @lanafofana @im-calling-the-lord @thetrixiegoth @grandmother-goblin

Alright, let's see how accurate this is lol

Maggs at the forefront ofc and then my other DAV OCs under the cut, if you're curious!

Maggs Thorne

Nah, you know what *WRONG ANSWER BUZZER*

She can drink the nastiest, strongest booze without flinching, but if you put even a little bit of black pepper in her food, she'll be like damn this has got some kick

Clorinda De Riva

Well, since she is bisexual and a dwarf, I think this tracks lmao

Legs all over the place!

WARD Ingelvar

(Look at her she's so cute ahhhhh)

Being part of the goth nation of Thedas, I think she would totally be a goth girl that shops at Hot Topic. Skull motifs on EVERYTHING

Xolisile Laidir

Hmmmmm I dunno, she seems more like the type where that kind of stuff comes easily if she's not thinking about it, but struggles if she actually has to explain her workings.

I think this is a *WRONG ANSWER BUZZER*

Rook Aldwir

I mean ... yeah lol

The gayest cousin in the game of gay cousins.