#welcome to necropolis

[peculiary]

Star Wars: Age of Resistance "Rey" September 18, 2019

[savvytravelers]

Gala Dinner Experience

Indulge in a Gala Dinner Experience with Savvy Travelers, savoring exquisite cuisine and entertainment!

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard - Meet the Factions

"Major players on the stage of Thedas, any of these factions could prove useful allies throughout your story. Your faction choice will influence your Rook’s backstory, conversation options, and potentially the balance of power on this divided continent."

"Grey Wardens An ancient order sworn to fight darkspawn & monsters. Wardens undergo secret rites that grant them supernatural powers. Veil Jumpers Explorers of ancient elven ruins. They welcome anyone brave enough to face Arlathan’s reality-warping magic. Shadow Dragons A resistance opposing corrupt rulers and slavery in Tevinter. They are determined to bring justice to the people. Lords of Fortune Explorers, hunters, and treasure-seekers from Rivain who are famed for their daring exploits and narrow escapes. The Mourn Watch An elite necromantic order that tends to Nevarra’s sprawling Grand Necropolis, where undead walk and spirits dwell. Antivan Crows Swift knives in the dark, these ruthless assassins are respected and feared as Antiva’s shadowy protectors."

[source]

[galedekarios]

thoughts on emmrich's vows & vengeance ep

i just wanted a place for me to gather my thoughts about emmrich's ep.

i have to say that i enjoyed it much more than the others, though i'm very likely biased. i absolutely have my problems with the overall writing as well as the way the podcasts treats the lore of the world, but i liked the insights it gave into emmrich, his personality and also his relationship with manfred.

so in no particular order:

1: emmrich's kindness

this is something that really, really stuck out to me this episode. emmrich is so incredibly kind.

from wanting to set the horses pulling the carriage free so they can have a chance in the storm, even if there is a possibility they might not come back and leave them stranded in the middle of nowhere:

ROLET: The storm’s getting heavy, Master Emmrich. We may not be able to go much further. What do you want me to do? EMMRICH: Hmm, perhaps we should pull the carriage off the road and hunker down inside until it passes. ROLET: What about the horses, sir? EMMRICH: Unhitch them. ROLET: Unhitch them? EMMRICH: Those animals are every bit a part of nature as this storm. Their instincts will guide them to safety. We just have to give them the freedom to take care of themselves. I trust they shall return when this tempestuous weather has passed.

he's immediately ready to help nadia despite knowing nothing about her, who she is or what she is saying is true, dismissing rolet's very reasonable fear of bandits:

NADIA: By the Lady, I am so happy to see you. We, we, we've been stuck here at least an hour. I didn't know what to do. They, they were too heavy to carry in this mud. Their pulse is falling and I- EMMRICH: There, there. Please put your mind at ease, my lady. What is your name? NADIA: Nadia, but… EMMRICH: A pleasure, Nadia. Emmrich Volkarin, at your service. Now come, we have some room in the carriage and you can shelter there until the storm passes.

he's not only incredibly polite to everyone in this episode, but he's also very gentle with rolet and helps him walk after he injured his ankle:

EMMRICH: Forgive me, but I must gently roll the ankle to examine its condition. (ROLET YELLING) EMMRICH: How does that feel? ROLET: Ah, not good! EMMRICH: I'm afraid it might be broken. I don't think you can walk. ROLET: I can limp. EMMRICH: Not by yourself, you won't. We shall help you. Now, here we go.

he's incredibly human here, not caring about standing, doesn't think himself above to do so because rolet is his coachman. he only wants to help. it's also very nice to see him being a healer, too.

DRAYDEN: That's it! That's where they went. EMMRICH: Well, then we go this way. Please take my arm for balance.

the same kindness and compassion that he shows the horses in the beginning, nadia and drayden, as well as rolet, is echoed in the way he treats the spirits/demons in this episode:

EMMRICH: Spirit, I am warning you to stop this right now. DEMON SPINELLA: Piss off, human slime. EMMRICH: I do not wish to hurt you or the body you inhabit, but I will not allow you to harm my companion. DEMON SPINELLA: Go back to your necropolis, death whisperer. EMMRICH: I'm sorry, but that body does not belong to you. EMMRICH: Spirit, you are not welcome here. And you are not welcome to that body. You shall leave now! EMMRICH: Please relinquish her body before someone gets hurt. DEMON SPINELLA: Oh, well, if I can't have her body,then no one will! EMMRICH: Easy now. Take that bottle away from your neck and put it down. DEMON SPINELLA: Or else what? EMMRICH: Please, I beg of you. DEMON SPINELLA: I want you to remember this moment clearly and painfully because this is on you! (FLESH SQUELCHING) (DEMON CHOKING AND GURGLING) EMMRICH: No, don't! EMMRICH: No!

he doesn't know who the woman possessed it yet he still tries to save her. he still tries to reason with the spirit.

and even though we can't see what is happening as for as the character's facial expressions are concerned and drayden rushes to reassure emmrich, that what happened is not his fault, that it's not on him, i think that it's very clear in his prolonged silence after that emmrich may see it as his failing and that it left him shaken.

all in all, it just really echoes what corinne busche and others who were lucky enough to play the preview of datv already said about emmrich: he's an extremely kind man.

what makes me worry though a bit is just how quick he is to trust and others at their word.

i talked about this with my friend @lairofsentinel too and we both feel that emmrich might not be as discerning about people's motivations and their possible deceptions - and the inherent danger in that - as he is when it comes to the dead, spirits and healing.

of course, taking v&v's writing with a grain of salt, but if it's reflective of how emmrich behaves in the game itself, it might be interesting to explore this "flaw" in emmrich's character.

emmrich seems very much too good for his own good.

he has spent more time among the dead, knows about their regrets and their emotions, and is renowned for his skill (see also tevinter nights). it might be that it came at the detriment - to some degree - when it comes to dealing with the living.

2: emmrich being very competent at what he does

it was also incredible to see emmrich at work:

NADIA: Drayden! EMMRICH: Stand back. EMMRICH: (echoing) May these words travel beyond the flesh, beyond the body, flowing down the silver thread to the spirit lost. Your home is calling, Drayden. Hear me! Your home is calling. NADIA: What are you doing? EMMRICH: I'm sending a message beyond the Veil to let Drayden know that it will soon be safe for them to return to their body.

-

EMMRICH: Now I need to finish preparations, but once the ritual begins, it shouldn't take long. However, with the poison's advancement, I will most likely need to perform an exsanguination. PASCAL: Hmm, blood magic, such messy business. EMMRICH: Ah, merely a cleansing. Nothing will be summoned, I give you my word.

-

EMMRICH: Spirit fire of midnight suns, through my spire of ill and ire, the wretched blood be blessed, not mired. EMMRICH: Manfred, stand back, I must direct the blood through the air without interruption. But,be ready. (MANFRED HISSES) EMMRICH: Let the cleansing grace lead you to thy spirit's place. Manfred, the blood has gathered. Quickly, please, spark the flames with the silver power. EMMRICH: Excellent work, friend! The blood is returning to the body. Drayden's spirit has heard the call. Come on, Drayden, I can feel your spirit's might. You are strong. You can do this, just fight. Fight for yourplace in this world. EMMRICH: That's it, you're almost home. Manfred, please smash the ampoule of Cetusbile. EMMRICH: Drayden, I commit you once more to the flesh. Now, find this body and purge it of its trespass. And wake up!

i also like that last bit especially because it's another callback to corinne busche saying that emmrich is all about positive affirmations, that he's very encouraging.

i remember the gameplay previews where he compliments rook during a fight - and he does the same here, encouraging drayden to find their own strength to return.

3: emmrich & manfred

i absolutely love the way these two interact. emmrich clearly is proud of him, he defends him, he speaks up for him. but he also knows he can rely on manfred.

my favourite moments were probably this moment after rolet and nadia startle at the sight of manfred:

NADIA: Why is there a walking skeleton exiting your carriage? EMMRICH: That, dear Nadia, is Manfred. NADIA: Manfred, your assistant? EMMRICH: Indeed, a gentle spirit, ball of curiosity, and a threat to no one.

it's just such a sweet way to describe manfred and you can tell there's genuine affection there.

i also thought it was cute that manfred doesn't like nicknames and that emmrich translates for manfred:

NADIA: Someone hand me that board. NADIA: Thanks, Bones. NADIA: Ah! What's your problem? EMMRICH: Oh, I'm afraid Manfred here is not very fond of nicknames. NADIA: Oh, sorry. (MANFRED GRUNTING) EMMRICH: He says apology accepted.

there also multiple instances of emmrich complimenting manfred on his work, just as he did in his short story:

EMMRICH: Manfred, did you salvage my kit? (MANFRED GRUNTING) EMMRICH: Excellent work.

and it's clear that manfred is a big part of how emmrich performs his duties. he's very much included at every turn and emmrich clearly relies on him and trusts manfred to do what he needs him to do.

4: other stuff

ROLET: But this place is creepy. EMMRICH: Well, I think it's quite charming. ROLET: All due respect, sir, but you would.

emmrich finding the obviously haunted castle vibes of their temporary shelter charming while everyone else has the creeps (and rightly so!) was so funny and in character.

in conclusion:

me waiting for 31st october:

[whyareyouhere66]

➢ Polaroid

multiple male x GN reader

warnings: none

x

When he’s got your Polaroid displayed in his car.

The radio has music wafting through the speakers, a small charm hanging from the rear view mirror as he casually turns the wheel with the palm of his hand, turning onto a new street. 

His eyes are trained on the road, humming slightly to the song as it plays, when he sees the small white frame out of the corner of his eye.

The corner of it is stuck into a crevice somewhere on the dashboard, and your bright smile fills the space, eyes wrinkled and narrowed into a squint as the picture was taken seconds into a laugh. In the picture, your head is tilted up to look at the camera, the flash lighting up your face leaving it perfectly framed for him to admire.

At the sight of it, his lips quirk up into a small and fond smile. He had put it there so whenever you weren’t there in person, he could still have you there somehow, by your designated seat on the passenger side. Anyone who got into the car would be welcomed by your face, even from its spot tucked into the dashboard placed specifically so he could always see it.

The song changes on the radio, a few seconds of talking in the transition between melodies. 

And just like that, he’s turning onto your street.

Pulling in just to see that same pretty face in person. 

[characters: JJ Maybank, John B. Routledge, Pope Heyward, Eijiro Kirishima, Shoto Todoroki, Mashirao Ojiro, Zed Necropolis, Carlos De Vil, Ben Beast, Sodapop Curtis, Adam Banks, Charlie Conway, Koshi Sugawara, Daichi Sawamura, Asahi Azumane]

[vigilskeep]

i wonder how affected the mourn watch & emmrich were by the mage rebellion. i guess less than any other southern mages because they have the necropolis to run, which can’t be abandoned and strongly has the good will of the nobility, and also good fucking luck to the templar who tries to get at them in there. but at least politically/socially there must have been something. it’s robably because of how lax and (relatively) welcome it is, but nevarra was a centre for the circle of magi, it’s where the first enchanters used to gather for the college

[heylittleriotact]

Eulogy

I know there has been talk of Emmrook smut, but this short one shot took precedence in light of what day it is - it'll be a year tomorrow that my Grandma passed away, and I'm feeling reflective. So what do we do when we're stuck in our own heads? We write! (Full text under the cut or on ao3)

Summary: Emmrich finds Amina drinking wine alone in the dining hall relatively early in the day, but not for the reasons he might think.

A fluffy oneshot about loss, grief, regrets, and saying goodbye to the ones we love... and keeping their memory alive.

It wasn’t the most palatable combination: the herbal bitterness of the licorice was a poor compliment to the fruity sweetness of the wine, but Amina couldn’t think of anything in the world she wanted more at the moment. The clashing flavours took her back to warm houses and loud laughter, a bowl of the same candy within reach, and the chiming of crystal to punctuate the end of an amusing story told to gathered company.

Reda did love to tell stories. 

Staring forward, lost in memories, she held the gold pendant around her neck in her hand and nestled the pad of her thumb into the slight indentation in the center, the metal warming to match her temperature until it felt almost lifelike. 

That ridiculous game she could play for hours as a child - the one where one person sent a gulder rolling across the floor on its edge and the other person rolled it back… Reda would cater to Amina’s boundless joy and play as long as she wanted even though her knees complained and her back did too. Achy joints proved many times over the years to be of little impediment to Reda’s passion for playing games. 

She smiled and rubbed the pendant. 

“Darling?” Amina glanced up from her chair, her smile widening at the sight of Emmrich. “I didn’t realize you snuck in.” 

“I was looking for you to–” his eyes found the bowl of candy on the low table and then the bottle of wine, and then the glass in her hand - it was only just past midday. “Is everything alright?” His tone pivoted from one of enthusiasm to concern.

“Hm?” Amina hummed distantly before she comprehended his cause for concern: she didn’t drink often, never this early in the day, and never by herself. “Oh - this. This must look strange.” She felt her cheeks redden: it wasn’t that Emmrich wasn’t welcome, she just thought that with Lucanis and Neve visiting the market in Treviso today, she’d be able to take a moment for herself in the Dining Hall. “I’m fine. Why don’t you join me?” She straightened and gestured at the empty lounging chair across from her, the pendant in her hand dropping back onto her chest. 

She supposed she could have sat at the main dining table, but it just seemed so large and empty for one person to sit at with no company. 

Emmrich sat without hesitation, looking unconvinced by her assurance. 

“Today marks a year since Reda died. She and her husband, Gortan took me in after I was found in the Necropolis and they raised me like I was one of their own. Closest thing I ever had to family, those two and their kids.” 

Ah. There it was: the face Emmrich was making - the Mortician’s Mask: the expression that every single mortalitasi in the Necropolis could don at will. It wasn’t an unpleasant expression, nor did it look forced or disingenuine - the opposite, actually: it was an expression of true compassion, sympathy, and unspoken affirmation that the person making it was listening, should one want to talk about it. 

He was very, very good at it.

“My deepest condolences, darling.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I sense that I’ve clumsily intruded on a private memorial.” 

“You haven’t intruded on anything,” she popped another piece of licorice into her mouth. “Just taking a moment or two for some memories - you’re more than welcome to join me… she always did love a party, and she would have thought you were a perfectly charming young man.” 

The corners of Emmrich’s mouth lifted at the compliment. “In that case, I would be remiss to decline such a graciously extended invitation.”

“Good answer, love.” Amina rose to her feet and set down her glass before crossing to the cabinet against the far wall and returning with a second wine glass for Emmrich, smiling the entire time.She filled it and handed it to him, sparing the time it took to brush her fingers across his. “The sweet ones from the Anderfels were her favourite - wine, I mean. Not… not lovers if that’s what you thought I meant.” 

Always so eloquent around this one, aren’t I?

“I assumed you were referring to the wine.” He looked at her like she was personally responsible for the existence of the stars in the sky. “Will you tell me about her?”

So Amina did. She told him all about Reda, and how she was a mother, and a matron at the Necropolis, passionate and devoted to her work for her entire life. She told him how she raised Amina in a household of love and acceptance, and how she proved that family was not defined by blood alone. She told him of her champion’s heart that compelled her to spend what little spare time she had advocating for those in the city that needed a voice - how she was still that voice for others even until her dying day. She told him how she found joy in simplicity and companionship, licorice and sweet wine; and how she found comfort and peace in her faith that saw her through life’s kindnesses and its hardships in equal measure. 

“She wouldn’t be bullied around by anyone - and even when she was standing up for herself or anyone else, she was always kind - firm as a bronto when the occasion called for it, being a matron and all, but always… kind.” The pendant was back in her hand, and she poured herself and Emmrich another glass. 

“I didn’t… I wasn’t… I’ve always felt different than everyone else. Like I’m a mismatched piece trying to blend into a world of people that are kindred in ways that I can never attain, no matter how hard I try.” She looked down at her fist clenched around the pendant. “Reda was one of the few people I’ve known who always made me feel like I belonged.” She cleared her throat; steadied her voice. “I miss her a lot.” 

“She must have been tremendously proud of you: I daresay you’ve inherited many of her virtues by the sound of it.” 

“The stubborn streak a mile wide? Entirely her fault.” She laughed then, and it felt good when Emmrich joined her: it made her heart feel a little lighter.

The laughter faded though, as it will in such circumstances. 

“I didn’t get to spend as much time with her as I wanted to when she got sick. I wanted to be there for her and take care of her like she took care of me… and I did when I could, but I was still an active Watcher, and she fell ill right around the same time as the War of The Banners, and of course then I was… ‘sent to travel’ and fell in with Varric.” She looked at her knees. “I was in Cumberland when the Watch sent word that her death was imminent. Rode as fast as I could without killing my horse to get there in time.” 

“Did you?”

A thin smile. “I did.” Amina whispered, the faint pride in her voice unmistakeable. “Have you ever been at someone’s side during their last moments?” 

Emmrich nodded but did not elaborate.

“Then you know what it’s like - the way time seems to pass glacially, and how the air itself buckles and stills. The very existence of life is so colossally tangible and concrete just before it dims… yet we spend so much of our own lives dulled to its majesty, wrapped up in other things…” she was staring into her wine glass as if it might reveal some answer to her. “It was a privilege to be with her in the very end: to be able to repay a small fraction of the love she showed me, and companion her onwards to her next adventure.” 

There was a shuffling sound as Emmrich left his chair and took up the one closest to Amina, shifting it closer to hers. Still leaning forward, he held out a hand to her, his long, ringed fingers unfurling. Amina placed her hand in his and he softly pressed his lips to the back of her hand, his thumb brushing her fingers soothingly. 

“A remarkable woman. Thank you for sharing her story with me, darling.” 

“Thank you for listening.” 

“It’s what we do best.” 

She didn’t feel like crying. There was absolutely nothing wrong with crying when the time to weep insisted on itself, but while there was regret tied to Reda’s passing, there was little sorrow. Instead she was filled with a feeling of joy and love unique to situations like this that she didn’t have a word for - she wasn’t even sure such a word existed for the feeling. The closest thing she could think of was: grateful. 

“Want to hear about the time she and Gortan took me to the woods for a relaxing getaway when I was about nine, and I wound up getting stung in the ass by a wasp and hiding in a cave because I was so mortified at the thought of her tending to it?” 

“Ah, so your proclivity for refusing to accept assistance stretches back well into your childhood, I see.” His eyes glittered with mirth and she wanted to kiss him then: Emmrich had impeccable timing when it came to lightening the mood.

Instead she smirked and said, “Oh shut up and top up our wine, won’t you? You’ll need it for this one.” 

He acquiesced, his hand on her knee a physical reminder that he was there and would stay for as long as she’d have him. 

“To a remarkable woman.” Amina raised her glass, and Emmrich echoed her. 

Their cups met, and they drank to a beloved memory. Stories were told well into the afternoon, and as Emmrich walked her back to the Lighthouse, Amina’s heart felt full to bursting: perhaps the wine had gone to her head, but her face hurt from smiling and she couldn’t stop giggling as she walked arm in arm with her favourite person: she wouldn’t have wanted to spend this day with anyone else. 

[nerdanel01]

Substitutionary Satisfaction (18+)

Emmrich Volkarin/F!Rook 4k+ wc | NSFW/18+  Agnes unravels a bit after having to share a tent with Emmrich in the Necropolis five nights in a row.

EXCERPT: In Rolf’s bed, for a brief period of time, all was possible: that neither the professional boundaries nor the age difference between them would stand between them. That Emmrich would one day stop seeing her as a young girl and instead as a woman, that one day he might even love her. 

9:38 Dragon

Agnes had only been in the Necropolis for two weeks—no longer than any of the other expeditions she had undertaken with Ser Volkarin over the years, but it had felt far longer. The last days of their trip had passed with excruciatingly slowness. To Agnes’ great relief, when at last they had ascended, back to the upper levels of the Necropolis where the Mourn Watch remained in permanent residence, it was dinnertime. 

That, at least, was one aspect of her position within the Mourn Watch that Agnes could wholeheartedly embrace. Nevarrans were passionate about food, and the Watchers were no exception; the guard employed a fine cadre of cooks who ensured that the Watchers had three set meals a day, each served at designated, regularly scheduled times in the dining hall. For those Watchers who may have missed meals during their shifts patrolling the Necropolis, the kitchens were always prepared with finely cut cheese and fruit waiting—perhaps even warm bread and a bit of stew if you caught the kitchens at the right time. 

But for once, it was not the complex depth of flavors of the food, nor the full belly that would follow that Agnes looked forward to. The kitchen had prepared one of her favorites—a savory oxtail stew, prepared with spices in the Antivan style—but Agnes had little appetite, picking at her food perfunctorily with her fork. 

Rather, Agnes’ relief came from the fact that the dining hall was (as usual) loud; cacophonous; packed with Watchers. The two long tables that stretched down the narrow hall were packed full. Beside Agnes, Ser Volkarin was regaling Commander Johanna and any other Watcher who cared to listen with the details of their recent trip. 

Which meant, at last, a welcome reprieve from Volkarin’s attention.

The bond between them (ordinarily quite amiable) had come under uncommon strain during this last trip. On the ninth day of their fortnight-length journey, they had lost one of their supply packs under pursuit from yet another of the Necropolis’ uncatalogued denizens. Due to the loss of supply, Agnes had suggested—rather strongly—that they turn back attempt to make an early return to the Mourn Watch. But Ser Volkarin, after taking stock of the supply that remained and determining it was to his satisfaction, had insisted they complete the original expedition as planned.

A consequence of which was: for the last five nights of the trip, Agnes and Ser Volkarin had been reduced to sharing one tent.

If the lower levels of the Necropolis were not so dangerously cold, Agnes would have slept on the floor outside and let Volkarin have the tent to himself, rather than suffer the discomfort of sharing that narrow space. As it was she had spent the remainder of the ninth day dangerously distracted by thought, problem-solving, trying to figure out an alternative to the inevitable. But at the end of the day, when they pitched the tent, when Ser Volkarin slipped inside… Agnes felt she had no other real option but to join him. 

If this unexpected intimacy perturbed Volkarin in the least, he gave no sign. But from the moment Agnes entered the shared tent on that first evening, she felt herself begin to fray. The little sounds Volkarin made when he slept, great contented sighs and the occasional soft snore. The regular rhythm of his breath. His body, close enough to touch deliberately or accidentally—touching her already, really, his back brushing against hers ever so slightly when he drew in a breath. Frightened she would become drunk on the smell of him.

By the twelfth day of the trip, Agnes found herself snapping at Volkarin over the littlest things. Rebuffing his praise of her; rebuking him, occasionally. There was no hiding her irritation from him, and although Volkarin seemed confounded by this sudden change in her demeanor, he was graceful enough not to comment upon it, a fact for which Agnes was most grateful. 

How was Agnes to explain to him that she was irritable from lack of sleep? That she had spent the last three nights awake, back to back with him and stiff as a board, clutching her arms tightly around her own body like a straightjacket for fear of how those same arms might betray her if she allowed herself to slip off to sleep?

Now, at dinner, Volkarin was more than happy to give Agnes plenty of space. Agnes did not blame him. The last day, in particular, had not been pleasant between them. Though they sat side by side at the same long table in the dining hall, they were in separate worlds: Volkarin, chatting excitedly with Johanna about one of the crypts they had come across in the Necropolis and Agnes, exhausted and yet still wound awfully full of tension she could not release, picking disinterestedly at her stew.

“And goodness, the details on the facade of the Van Wyck mausoleum! The vibrancy of the colors, Johanna! I really should show you Agnes’ sketch later, it is a shame we did not have any colored pastels or something of the like for her to try and replicate those incredible hues…”

Unengaged as she was in both meal and conversation, it did not take Agnes long to notice Watcher Rolf was watching her, staring at her across the room from the opposite dining table. At first Agnes thought their eyes had simply met by coincidence. But then Rolf lifted his spoon to his mouth and, eyes trained on hers, licked deliberately and lasciviously along the spoon’s curved bowl. That, Agnes was certain, was deliberate. She fought the revulsion in the pit of her stomach, and repressed the urge to roll her eyes. The man was a total ingrate. But…

“In the Ghentsburg ossuary Agnes found this breathtakingly detailed mosaic of beetle-wings—in the magelight, Johanna, it sparkled like the sea under the sun…”

But that did not stop Agnes from rising to follow Rolf when he left the Dining Hall several minutes later, leaving Volkarin and Johanna behind, following Rolf wordlessly into the dormitories and then across the threshold into his private chamber. 

Rolf’s hands were on her waist the moment they reached the room, before he’d even had the decency to close the door behind them, still open to the hall for anyone who cared to glance inside and see him groping at her. But with Rolf, at least, Agnes felt no burden to hide, nor protect him from the tension and irritation that had been building within her for going on a week. She wrenched herself out of his grip and slammed the door shut behind them. Rolf only laughed lightly in response, somehow childishly amused by the fact that she had no desire to be caught in flagrante delicto by any other Watcher who might care to pass by.

But then Rolf was muffling that laugh against the back of her neck, running his wide hands up the front of her body, thigh to stomach to breasts, and Agnes released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, relaxing back into the touch. He kissed a path from her shoulder to her ear, sucked on the lobe rapaciously as he began to free the buttons on the front of Agnes’ blouse. 

And although all common sense made clear it was Watcher Rolf behind her and no other, Agnes closed her eyes… imagining another room, another’s hands, another’s soft breath on her skin. 

Substitution. A practice highly cautioned against in alchemy as in other magics, where the reaction between elements was so finely calibrated that any errant inclusion could throw an entire spell catastrophically awry. Substituting one herb for a like one could result in a far less effective concoction—or one that was outright dangerous. 

But sometimes, in life, when one did not have access to what one wanted—what one, perhaps, needed—such substitutions, perhaps, could not be avoided.

Behind her, Rolf whispered against her ear, sullying the illusion: “You are so beautiful,” he told her, shelling her unbuttoned blouse off her shoulders, cupping at her breasts.

A hot flash of irritation shot through her. Rolf knew their rules. Agnes turned in his arms to give him a look of darkest reproach, commanding him, “Do not speak.”

Then, she began to push him back towards the bed.

Like most of the great disruptions in Agnes’ life, this recent arrangement with Rolf had come about entirely because of the meddling of her father. 

Now that Lord Halkias had successfully married off all of her younger step brothers and sisters, he had turned his attention back to Agnes: his bastard, eldest child. His spare. At the time, Agnes had not heard from him since she had been dispatched to the Circle at Perendale twelve years ago. In fact no one, neither her father nor step siblings (nor of course Lord Halkias’ wife, who despised her) had written her so much as a letter since she had left the estate at age fourteen. That had suited Agnes just fine, as she was perfectly content to wash her hands of them and the six years she had spent on the estate. 

Suddenly, however, Lord Halkias seemed to have been awakened to the unexpected value of his bastard child. Through no encouragement nor support of his own, Agnes had managed to earn herself a position in the Mourn Watch, one of the most prestigious designations within the Mortalitasi. Among all of his children, Agnes was the only mage. And it seemed he had finally put two and two together, and determined that though he himself might see little worth in Agnes, someone else indeed might—a connection to the Mourn Watch was, among certain elite social circles, a highly desirable thing.

So, at the ripe age of 27, when most other noble women had already had their first if not their  second or third child, Lord Halkias was trying to arrange a marriage for Agnes—a goal which Agnes herself was determined to frustrate. Long ago, however, she had learned the best policy of resisting her father was passive. Rather than challenge him outright, she went on each of the dates that he arranged for her… and followed each with a scathing note to Lord Halkias on why that particular individual was entirely unsuitable to be her spouse. 

Which was how she had ended up, one sunny afternoon in Nevarra City, sitting and sipping coffee and nibbling on cakes with Watcher Rolf. 

Lord Halkias’ had thought himself clever for suggesting the match; Agnes could tell from the tone of his letter. Rolf was a second son of a powerful Cumberland family. Though Halkias made no mention of it, Agnes was certain that Rolf’s family held charter to either a shipping contract or some other mercantile advantage Halkias wished to take advantage of. In addition to that, Rolf was remarkably well matched to her in age (which had not been the case with all of her father’s choices), and he was himself part of the Mourn Watch. Ostensibly, that gave them a level of common ground on which to build a romantic relationship upon. 

But the entire experience had been excruciating. Agnes had not spent much time with Rolf before that afternoon, but things became clear to her within several minutes of sitting down. Rolf clearly thought himself funny; in Agnes’ opinion, he was absolutely not. He also clearly thought himself handsome, with his green eyes and his straw colored hair, which Agnes supposed might have been true if you liked that sort of thing. Worst of all, he had no intellectual depth or curiosity to him whatsoever.

Truthfully, neither Rolf nor any of the suitors her father set her up with had any fair chance to make an impression upon her.  Agnes spent her days with a man she had privately come to think of as one of the most brilliant minds in Nevarra, if not in Thedas writ large. Not only that, he was uncommonly chivalrous and kind... and Agnes would prefer the warmth of his dark eyes to Rolf’s greens any day of the week. 

How could anyone, anywhere, possibly measure up to Emmrich?

At the cafe in Nevarra City, when Rolf had called for the bill, he had asked Agnes when they could see each other again. Either he had failed entirely to observe her total lack of interest in him, or else he was utterly undeterred by it. Perhaps, Agnes mused, in his feeble mind, the afternoon had been a resounding success.

Agnes had paused over the rim of her teacup, surveying him. His confidence, his eagerness, his plain attraction for her, unreciprocated though it might be. 

“Other than passing each other occasionally within the walls of the Necropolis?” she had told him, casually. “We will not see each other again, I am afraid. Not like this, as a potential romantic courtship.” 

“However…” Agnes had continued, hardly believing her own gall, fighting the blush in her cheeks and keeping her eyes fixed on her tea and not on Rolf’s face, “while this brings a swift conclusion to our romantic exploration, that does not mean I would be opposed to a strictly physical relationship. If that were desirable to you.”

Which was how she hand ended up back in Watcher Rolf’s dormitory that very same night, her knees planted in the carpet, her face buried in his lap… imagining that the hand running through her hair and tugging at her scalp was Emmrich’s hand; that the thighs trembling under the pleasure of her mouth were Emmrich’s thighs; that those were Emmrich’s appreciative low groans of arousal. Dripping wet, fingers crooked deeply inside of herself, Agnes had finished even before Rolf had, moaning her release around his cock as her body filled with lightness.

It was an arrangement Agnes had never imagined herself a part of, at that moment, she found herself strangely thankful for it. She had spent the last five nights strung tight with desire, wanting so terribly to act on it, knowing all the same how completely catastrophic that could be for her, both professionally and personally. One way or another, she needed a release.

They had backed up to Rolf’s bed, and he was lifting the hem of Agnes’ skirts. But, “Not like this,” Agnes commanded, turning in his arms to face the opposite direction, bent over his mattress, facing the headboard.

A low huff of something—appreciation? Vulgarity?—came from behind her, and she felt Rolf’s hands palming over her ass as he told her, “You sure do prefer it from behind, Gallatus.”

Facing away from him as she was, Agnes was free to roll her eyes at that comment. What an idiot Rolf was, what an ugly and crass thing to say. ‘No, I simply don’t prefer you, but I am left with no other recourse to scratch this particular itch.’

But the irritation only lasts a moment, soon replaced by a sense of delicious, tight anticipation in her chest at the light chime of metal on metal, Rolf uncinching his belt. Agnes released a long, slow exhale, fisting her hands in Rolf’s bedsheets, and closing her eyes.

Transporting herself.

…Over the years she had only caught the tiniest peeks at Emmrich’s private rooms through his doorway, but the luxurious burgundy color of his bedsheets had pressed itself irrevocably into her memory. And it would smell so keenly of Emmrich, there, just as it had in the tent—like bergamot and pepper and dusty old tomes. Her imagination transfigured the chiming of Rolf’s belt into the clink of Emmrich’s bangles, the bracelets that adorned his arms, the many jeweled rings on his long fingers. 

When he entered her, Agnes was not thinking of Rolf at all.

She was thinking of all the things that she wanted but could never have. Of Emmrich’s hands on her body. The same elegant, well-manicured fingertips that would point out the most fascinating passages to her in whatever book or scroll he was reading; the same tanned, long-fingered hands that caressed her drawings with such reverent wonder (to be looked at once by him the way he looks at her sketches!); the same hands that now dug deeply into the meat of her hips, drawing Agnes’ body back towards his as he sheathed himself totally inside of her.

Agnes’ hand flew to her mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure and sheer relief that flooded through her, the warmth spiraling out from her stomach and flushing out into her limbs. The euphoria of fullness, the wanting in absence, and then the exhilarating rush of fullness again as Emmrich drew her back against him. The wet sound of their copulating, soft living flesh smacking against flesh and skin and meat each time Emmrich’s hips met the curve of her ass. The light rake of his nails down her bare back, his little huffs of breath as he thrust behind her. Giddying, mind-numbing joy as his fingers carefully unpinned the crown of hair around her head, sending black waves tumbling down her shoulders and around her face, running his fingers through it appreciatively.

In no time Agnes was writhing beneath him, arching her back to meet each of Emmrich’s thrusts, leaning into them to drive his cock deeper inside of her. So rapturous so gratifying so good one almost forgot to breathe, but then when one did—! Rockets of pleasure shooting through her body, coiling tight, driving her relentlessly towards her finish. 

Imagining the look on Emmrich’s face. His beautiful eyes, his mouth open and slack with pleasure. The drag of her name in his throat, what it might sound like spoken hoarsely around his satisfaction: ���Agnes.”

Climax took her, white lightning of pleasure reducing her body to a trembling, sparkling, magnificent mess—all the tension she had carried in the Necropolis utterly unspooling into a warmth that carried her out of herself into a space of pure bliss, stifling her answering cry—“Emmrich!”—against the back of her hand. 

As the pleasure faded, so too did the illusion Agnes had constructed for herself. Eyes blinking open to Watcher Rolf’s messy quarters, not the precise and homey cleanliness that was the hallmark of Emmrich’s space. Reality creeping back in. 

This was why she maintained the arrangement, why she kept returning to Watcher Rolf though the man objectively disgusted her. In Rolf’s bed, for a brief period of time, all was possible: that neither the professional boundaries nor the age difference between them would stand between them. That Emmrich would one day stop seeing her as a young girl and instead as a woman, that one day he might even love her. But every time—as the pleasure faded, as her heart rate slowed, and her reason was restored—so was Agnes’ certainty that Emmrich would never see her that way. That this—fucking Rolf—was the closest she’d ever get to feeling what it would be like for Emmrich to reciprocate her feelings.

Strange combination. To be so fucked out and spent and tingling with pleasure, and to be utterly heartbroken at once. 

Agnes sniffed, stood, swept her hair out of her face. Then, without a word to Rolf, she turned and began to collect herself, pulling on first her smallclothes, then her multiple skirts, then hunting about the room for wherever it was that Rolf had flung her blouse.

“You don’t have to leave, you know.” Rolf had stretched himself across his bed, naked body glowing with a thin sheen of sweat. “You could stay.”

“Why?” Agnes cast him the most uninterested of glances. “We both got what we needed, did we not?” At last she found her blouse on the floor and pulled it over her shoulders, buttoning up the front and straightening out the cuffs of her sleeves. 

Rolf hesitated. That was unusual. He had an outsized confidence; hesitation was not really part of his playbook. Then he asked her, the tiniest edge of hope creeping into his voice:

“I know that’s what we arranged. But don’t you think this could be more than that?”

He might as well have proposed they pack up and run away to Ferelden together, for the wild look of shock and refusal Agnes gave him. “No,” she answered, immediately, without emotion or empathy, or even the slightest bit of guilt. “Goodnight,” she told him, then slipped out the door.

She had just finished pinning back up the last of her hair, restoring her pristine image of neatness when none other than Emmrich himself rounded the corner, making his way to his own rooms to retire for the evening.

“Good evening,” he greeted her; then added, with a delighted, conspiratory smile, “You left dinner early. Have you been spending more time with your young gentleman friend?”

How was it that nothing seemed to escape his notice—except for her affection for him, which grew more and more impossible to conceal by the day? 

Thinking of the way Rolf had licked his spoon at dinner to summon her, Agnes’ upper lip gave a nasty, disgusted twitch. “He is no gentleman.” Not compared with the gentleman in front of her, the very standard of courtesy and honor, genteel and sensitive. 

Emmrich’s brows knit together. There was a sudden tension around his mouth, a darkness and an intensity in his eyes that Agnes had not seen before. 

“What do you mean?” he asked her, his voice direct and serious, something threatening in his tone. All the charm and joviality stripped from it. “Did he—has Rolf made an unwelcome overture to you? Did he try to force you?”

Protective. That’s what the look on his face was. Worried about her, concerned for her, ready to rise to her defense if needed. The rush of love Agnes felt then was so powerful it dwarfed the endorphin rush of her orgasm only a few moments before.

“No!” she was quick to cut him off, to assuage his worries. “No, it’s nothing like that.” In fact, the thought would have been slightly laughable, had Emmrich not been so visibly concerned for her. Pound for pound Rolf may have had an advantage over Agnes, but there was not a single mage among the Mourn Watch who could outmatch Agnes in close quarters combat. If Rolf had ever tried anything like that, she would have had no trouble putting a stop to it with a swift dislocation of his arm—or worse. 

“Honestly, Ser Volkarin, it’s just that Watcher Rolf is so impossibly dull.”

Emmrich looked at her blankly for a moment, then laughed, all the tension in his face dissipating with that sound. Agnes loved his laugh, a study in contrasts: Emmrich was so civilized and dignified, but his laugh was an almost sinister cackle, and it built upon itself as his mirth swelled. “Oh, poor fellow,” he said, at last, looking almost on the verge of tears, so delighted he was and relieved to hear his initial suspicion was incorrect. “So that will be the end of it, then? His loss, I am sure.”

“Most definitely his loss,” Agnes said, returning Emmrich’s smile. This was what it was meant to feel like between them—the easiness of a well-worn friendship, not the tense bickering that had filled the days preceding. But while the lone, shared tent might have contributed to that bickering, Agnes still new (in the illumination of her post-fuck clarity) that her behavior towards him had been abysmal, and it was entirely her own fault. 

“Ser Volkarin, I’m sorry,” she told him, softening her gaze. “The last few days, I know I have been… less than pleasant, to be around. Our last descent was unexpectedly trying for me, but I will endeavor not to react that way in the future.”

“You are always a pleasure to be around,” Emmrich told her without missing a beat. Such warmth and affection in his gaze. “It is my fault as much as yours. You wanted to turn back; I insisted we press onwards. Forgive me, for my stubbornness. Shall I make it up to you now? Would you like to stop by the study for a pot of tea before we retire? You are welcome to tell me all the ways in which Rolf is an unsuitable match for you.”

How she would have liked that! If she had ever imagined anything happening between her and Emmrich, that was often how she pictured it: late night, all softness and tenderness spilling over into something new and other. The temptation to accept Emmrich’s offer was powerfully strong.

But she was very cognizant of the pressing need for her to take contraceptive herbs with her tea—something that would absolutely not escape Emmrich’s notice, and something she had zero interest in explaining to him.

“As much as I’d like that, I’d better not,” she told him. “After that trip, I am very much looking forward to my own bed.”

“Very well.” Was it just her imagination, or did he look ever so slightly put out by her refusal? “Pleasant dreams, Agnes. See you in the morning.”

[duskoon]

Yandere!AlterEgo!Ashiya Dōman Short Blurb: Tw: Gn!reader, Yandere themes, Obsessive/Posessive behaviors, Manipulation, Desecration of the dead, Invasion of Privacy, Sadism, Implied one-sided infidelity, Caster of Limbo/Dōman is a warning himself. Taglist: @bluemoondust, since you liked my last ramble regarding my take on fate. Here is a blurb for one of my personal favorite servants in the game. He is so petty, yet such a multilayered character. I will probably write a hc’s for him soon after my other request.

⛦ Yandere!Ashiya Dōman who for some odd reason took a sudden interest on you. There’s something familiar and appealing about you, that he couldn’t put his fingers around it. Something that makes his spiritual core aches and coil at the sight of you.

An incessant need—an obsession, hunger, and a curse if you will— to know more about you, akin to that of a begruding spirit that refuses to move on until it satiate it’s vindication.

⛦ Yandere!Ashiya Dōman who drives you away from Chaldea in hopes of getting you alone. Using every trick and scheme in his book to lure you to him, like a pied piper. Instead of a magical pipe, it was a shikigami conjured in the image of your deceased loved ones.

⛦ Yandere!Ashiya Dōman who adores and drinks upon every expression that comes out of your visage like the finest of sake. The joy that adorns your face after saving a soul at death’s doorsteps, and the sheen of sweat as you pull through the toughest of battles with your servant alongside Mash and Fujimaru.

Yet, the most worth ravishing of all was the pain etching on the contour of your face and bleak eyes; As your world slowly fall asunder by his hands—be it directly or indirectly. It brings him the zenith of elation.

⛦ Yandere!Ashiya Dōman who can’t help himself but hijacks visit you in your dreams. The humble priest, as he calls himself, is far too curious about your inner workings. He wants to pick you apart piece by piece, like jigsaw.

To see the side that you fiercely hide away from the world, the most intimate and shameful part of you. Your own secret garden. His sharp green talons softly caressing your cheeks, as he observe you sleeping. Careless, to the beast’s in a man skin wandering freely in your mind.

Oh. How he wishes to sully you. To witness you become the thing that you have sworn to defeat. To see one of humanity’s saviors fall down to the depths of limbo. Where he awaits and welcomes them within his coldest embrace.

⛦ Yandere!Ashiya Dōman who is cackling vehemently; Going through your memories seething in green, as he sees an image of him of all people here.. Ha. Even in death, his most hated rival still mocks him. Yet… Why! Why! Why was he here?! You were supposed to be his and his alone for the taking.

His eyes grows darker like a sea of an endless abyss, while his smiles expands in madness showing the sharp fangs that laid beneath his faux friendly smile.

⛦ Yandere!Ashiya Dōman who tries to rewrite your memories. To erase him and your allies from the necropolis of your mind, yet failing miserably. Your soul, mind, and heart was protected heavily by him that much he can infer. But… why?

⛦ Yandere!Ashiya Dōman who finally recognize for who you are, or rather were and why he latched onto you. It makes sense, now. Your essence were that of the beloved wife of Seimei. Ahh.. Fate.. What a cruel mistress, yet she brought you to him once again.

This time, however, he won’t fumble like he once did. You'll be his like you were meant to be, especially now that damned adversary of his is gone for good. Ahh.. You'll be singing his name like a mantra, even if he has to get persuasive and pacify you like he did back then.

“𝑵𝒏𝒏𝒏𝒏𝒏.. 𝑵𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒓𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆.. 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆.. 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆.. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒌’𝒔 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕..”

Footnotes:

• You could say a shikigami is the Japanese equivalent of a familiar, but that's my interpretation.

• The rival refers to Abe-no-Seimei, who bested him multidudes of times in onmyōdō. Which—oversimplification— caused Dōman to be exiled from the capital (Heian-kyō), hence the hatred.

• Secret garden: are essentially the person’s heart and desires. Usually—within Fate CCC— it is uncovered by others. In the case between a servant and their master, it’s purpose usually is to strengthen their bonds.

• Seeing how manipulative Dōman is, he would probably find a way through his darling’s garden. Which, ngl, is terrifying even more so if he wasn't contracted with his darling (not in a servant-master relationship with his darling, meaning he could not be restrained with command seals).

[ghouly-boiiiii]

The Snooze Olympics

Ghoulcy Week Day 3 - Somnophilia

I'm late, but here's my contribution to to Ghoulcy Week Day 3 - Somnophilia! I was not expecting to do this, but I couldn't think of anything clever for the Target Practice prompt, so here we are. 😜 This was definitely something new for me, but I have to say actually like how it turned out, heh heh. Hope you enjoy!

Lucy x Cooper Howard / The Ghoul

Tags: Consensual Somnophilia, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, One Shot, Challenge/Event

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,599

No spoiler warning

No trigger warnings except sexy time with a zombie man and consensual somnophilia

Summary: Cooper and Lucy had been together for a while now. One thing the pair quickly realized about their relationship was that they were both kinda freaky. The Ghoul’s been fucking his way across the wasteland for over two-hundred years, and things had gotten a little boring. But Lucy, little miss goody-two-shoes, had this insatiable appetite to experience every imaginable way to fuck that could possibly exist. And that was never boring.

Cooper had asked her before if she would mind if he touched her while she slept. Her answer was simply, “I let you touch me while I’m awake, why wouldn’t I let you touch me while I’m asleep?”

When he proceeded to be more specific, she rolled her eyes at him and told him he was a weirdo, but that she wouldn’t mind. Then, somehow, it ended up becoming a discussion about a game they could play. One where they would each take turns trying to see how many times they can successfully get the other riled up in their sleep. It started out as kind of a joke, but became more and more serious as they carried on.

Now? It was a full on competition.

Cooper licked his bottom lip as he stared down at Lucy’s naked body. She was sound asleep, sprawled out on their bed without a care in the world. 

It was late, or rather early in the morning, in the city of Necropolis. One of the few places the old bounty hunter was welcome, and they were accepted as a couple. 

They'd managed to save up enough to purchase a small house on the outskirts of town. A bit nicer than the common shanty, thanks to The Ghoul's reputation. It was something the bounty hunter was never really interested in. Since he was always traveling, it didn't seem practical. But now, he had her. And it was nice to own a place where they could have a little peace and privacy now and then. And where she could keep all those weird little knick knacks she collected on their travels like she was building a fucking museum. It wasn't much, but it was home. 

It was a warm night, and she’d thrown the sheets off her, leaving her completely exposed. The former vault dweller was beautiful. Her delicate curves. Flowing dark hair that spilled over her shoulders and laid messily over her soft, perky breasts. Perfect face. She almost seemed to glow where the pale moonlight touched her bare skin.

As Cooper gazed at her, he realized just how unbelievably lucky he was to have her. It was painful, because every time he looked at her, looked at that bluish finger, remembered the fear in her eyes… he knew he didn’t deserve her. Why she would choose him over literally anyone else, he couldn’t understand. But here they were. 

It wouldn’t be unreasonable to say he was in love. A feeling he never thought he’d feel again. And it wasn’t just her beauty, of course. She was something else. Strong and brave and smart and quick witted, if a little weird. Who would have known, back then, just how well they would end up getting along, how much they would end up having in common, just how much they would end up meaning to each other.

He quietly stepped forward, admiring her while she slept. She was spread out with her arms above her head, which was turned to the side. Laying with one leg straight, and the opposite knee bent to her left. In this position, her labia was open just enough to see her pink little clitoris. 

The Ghoul licked his lips again and smirked as he tilted his head. He’d just gotten up to take a piss, but… upon returning, to be granted with this breathtaking sight, it stopped him in his tracks. His cock began to twitch and tingle as he stared at her, and he took a deep breath through narrow lips. 

Cooper had asked her before if she would mind if he touched her while she slept. Her answer was simply, “I let you touch me while I’m awake, why wouldn’t I let you touch me while I’m asleep?”

When he proceeded to be more specific, she rolled her eyes at him and told him he was a weirdo, but that she wouldn’t mind. Then, somehow, it ended up becoming a discussion about a game they could play. One where they would each take turns trying to see how many times they can successfully get the other riled up in their sleep. It started out as kind of a joke, but became more and more serious as they carried on. 

Now? It was a full on competition. 

One thing the pair quickly realized about their relationship was that they were both kinda freaky. The Ghoul’s been fucking his way across the wasteland for over two-hundred years, and things had gotten a little boring. But Lucy, little miss goody-two-shoes, had this insatiable appetite to experience every imaginable way to fuck that could possibly exist. And that was never boring.

Saying they liked to try new things was an understatement. Their sex life had quickly developed into a scorching hot primal frenzy, and had continued to escalate in ways he was shocked a normal human could handle. It’s really a wonder they had time for anything else. And one of them wasn’t dead.

He grit his teeth together and looked up at her face. Lucky for him, Lucy tended to be a remarkably heavy sleeper. She could sleep through just about anything. Must come from living down in those vaults where you get to feel safe, he thought. And aren’t always listening for the next thing that’s going to jump out of the dark and kill you in the middle of the night. 

Also, they had a few beers earlier, which knocked her out even more. Especially since she was such a lightweight. 

All that, coupled with the conveniently accessible pose she’d decided to sport, he found himself with a grand opportunity. 

The Ghoul, with his growing cock, crept closer and leaned over the bed. That was another thing he had on her. He knew how to be quiet and avoid attracting attention. In fact, it wasn’t really a fair competition at all. She was so noisy and clumsy, and he was a light sleeper. He typically wakes up fairly soon after she starts. At least, that’s how it seemed. In fact, he’s pretended to be asleep for longer than he actually was just so she could feel like she’s in the running, but the amount of times he’s messed with her for a full half an hour, for her to wake up screaming and clawing at his bald head. 

Let’s just say, they both enjoyed it. 

He kept coming closer until he was just at the foot, then quietly made his way around to his side as he calculated his plan of attack. Her exposed clitoris was calling to him, shining like a pink little gem through the darkness. 

The Ghoul leaned down and slowly crawled onto his stomach, horizontally across the bed, positioning himself next to her hip. The leg next to him was the one outstretched, and the other, bent away from him. 

He looked down, his mouth now just above her inviting pussy, and looked up at her one more time. With her still sound asleep, he brought his attention back to the task at hand. He bit his lip and sucked on it a moment in anticipation, then stuck his tongue out and leaned in.

The bounty hunter tasted her, ever so lightly. Keeping his tongue soft, not tense, he gently brushed it down her clitoral hood, then back up. Carefully and steadily, he continued to move his tongue from side to side, up and down her clit, until her breath started to increase. 

He stopped for a moment and looked up at her. The expression on her face made her look like she was concerned.

That’s how he could tell it was working.

Cooper lowered his head again and used his lips to open up the labial folds just a little more. Just enough for him to get his mouth around her clitoris, and gently begin to suck. 

There was an art to this sort of thing. You had to be careful not to get too excited and move too fast. Any sudden movements could get you busted. You had to go very slowly. Make the lightest of contact. All in order to minimize the chance of the subconscious mind perceiving you as a threat and alerting the brain to wake up.

“Nnn…” She whimpered lightly. 

And so it begins. He wondered if she was dreaming. Dreaming of him? Maybe. But more likely it’s something odd, like… being abducted by aliens or… trying to hump a talking tree… As she had told him before. Her dreams got weird.

He began to lightly stroke her clit with his tongue again as he carefully moved his hand over her leg. His cock was throbbing, but he had to ignore it. If he started pleasuring himself, he wouldn’t be able to focus. He took a moment to wet a finger with his mouth, then found her vagina and slowly slipped it inside.

The Ghoul took a deep breath, which shook just slightly as he felt the intense heat around his finger. She was so wet already, which made it easier. Slowly, he slid the finger in and out and began to suck on her clit again. 

She squirmed a little and let out a sleepy groan. He paused a moment to see if she was waking, but she peacefully went back to sleep, lightly sighing as she turned her head the other direction.

They both had agreed, should one of them get to full on intercourse while the other was asleep, it was game over. One-hundred points. Not that the points mattered. But truly, it would be a feat. And she was so damn drunk last night, he thought he might actually have a chance, if he played his cards right. He doubted it, but he was gonna try. 

But first, he had to prepare her a little more. 

Cooper decided to give her clit a break, so she didn’t get too excited, and slid in a second finger. He gently spread them apart, stretching her to make room for his cock. The bounty hunter licked his lips as he looked up at her beautiful figure. While he did find this hot and kinky, he definitely preferred it when he could hear her moaning and writhing. He almost wanted her to wake up. Every time he did this, he couldn’t wait for the moment her eyes shot open and she started screaming out of surprise and pleasure. It never got old. And she never seemed to get bored of it either.

He paused and bit his lip, and decided he was ready. He just had to figure out how to position himself in a way that wouldn’t wake her, starting by moving her leg.

The bounty hunter carefully lifted himself up off the bed and went back to the foot, where he could easily climb between her legs. Before he did so, he reached down, taking her ankle with one hand and her knee in the other, and gently bent it to the side, spreading her leg out to mirror the other one. 

Now her pussy was fully exposed, glistening in the moonlight. He couldn’t help himself. He had to taste her one more time. He leaned over and crawled on his stomach, then dipped his head down, running his tongue up and down the length between her lips, drinking her dripping fluids like nectar. 

“Hahh…” As he pulled away, he let out a needy exhale. His cock was throbbing and leaking and he couldn’t help but rub against the sheets a little. But he had to maintain control. He was so close to the finish line. He’d be damned if he let a little thing like a raging boner get in the way of his ultimate victory. 

Carefully, he pushed himself up with his strong arms, and slowly crawled over her, being careful not to touch her and to disturb the mattress as little as possible. Looking down, he was able to position himself so that the head of his cock was right at the entrance to her pussy.

He looked up and watched her closely. Still sleeping, perfect and gorgeous, with her hair messily in her face, and just a little bit of drool dripping out of her mouth. 

Cooper bit down on his tongue. She was always so horrified when she woke up and found out she was drooling. He didn’t mind, though. He thought it was cute, the way she got so flustered about it, and it always made him laugh. But he couldn’t laugh now. He was on an important mission.

With an intense focus, he watched her face for any sign of stirring as he moved his hips forward and pressed the head of his cock against her vagina. He bit down on his lips when he felt the slight resistance, then exhaled as she took him in and he slowly slid inside.

Cooper grinned and had to hold back his laughter, cackling in his head. He did it! Son of a bitch did it. He was deep inside her and she was still fast asleep. Just wait until she gets a load of this, he thought. She’s going to be SO pissed. 

Now, the only question is, how long could he go before she finally did wake up? He was sure all the rocking and fucking would wake her. If not, well, he might start to be a little concerned. But he was sure she just had too much to drink. And also, his mad skills. 

So the bounty hunter started slowly and smoothly moving his hips, gently sliding his cock in and out of her, not all the way, just about half. He parted his lips as he started to breathe heavily. She felt so fucking good, and he could feel his cock throbbing and pulsing inside her. It took all his self control not to pound into her, and the restraint made him shake and tremble. He desperately wanted her to wake up, but he also relished this challenge and wouldn’t be satisfied unless he took it as far as it could go.

Could he make her come in her sleep, he wondered?

She started to squirm and lightly moan, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed in a look of confusion. “Ohhh…” She sighed. “Mmmm…”  

The Ghoul bit his lip and sucked on it in thought. He needed to get to her clit, but holding himself up with one arm would be difficult. If he could get his legs under hers, that would make it easier. 

Slowly, he moved his legs, one at a time, to the side and in front of him, carefully tucking them under hers. Once he was successfully on his knees with her legs hooked around him, he had to stop himself again from chuckling. The sly dog was getting too good at this. Now with his knees to support him, he sat up, his cock still half-inside, and looked down. 

He tilted his head at the sight of her wet lips stretched around his cock, both their genitals twitching slightly against each other. Licking his bottom teeth, he let out a shaky breath as his eyes fell on where the lips came together. Her now erect clit had swelled and gone from a soft pink, to a light cherry red. He knew it would take both if he was going to get her to orgasm before she woke, or at least as she was waking.

If he could accomplish that, he thought, he could officially give himself the title of ‘Master Fuck Machine’. He could see Lucy rolling her eyes now. 

Cooper licked his thumb to add a little extra lube, then brought it down and began to lightly stroke her clit downwards. Once he got the rhythm, he started moving his hips at the same time. Brushing his thumb down as he pushed his cock in. 

He swallowed hard and opened his mouth, nearly sticking out his tongue as he took heavy breaths. God, this was so hot. And she wasn’t even awake to enjoy it with him. If only he could find a way to film this and show her. He wondered if she would find it hot. He bet anything she would. 

Christ, he wanted her to wake up so bad. How the fuck was she still asleep?

Finally, she started to stir a bit, her brow furrowed hard as she moved her head to the other side again, letting out a groan. “Ohhh…” 

“Ohh… Lucy…” He whispered softly, then bit his lip, trying not to moan himself. 

“Mmmm… hohh…” She moaned as she started to squirm even more. Her whole body started to move, hands coming down to her sides and gripping into the sheets as she tried to pull herself somewhere. Her legs began to stir, moving up and down as she let out a shaky gasp and pressed her head back against the pillow. “Hah! Oh, God!”

Cooper’s lips curved up into a toothy grin. This was it. Moment of truth. 

“Ahh!” Her eyes shot open suddenly and she looked down at him with her mouth open wide. “Cooper!”

The Ghoul let out the loud, triumphant laugh he’d been holding in. “Good mornin', my Queen.” He purred in a deep, sexy tone.

She gasped hard and threw her head back again. “Motherfucker!” 

He ran his tongue over his bottom teeth as he laughed again. “What's the matta'? You want me da' stop?”

“Don’t you dare fucking stop!” Lucy yelled breathlessly. She turned her head back down and started clawing at his shoulders and squeezed her legs around him. “Oh my God, I’m gonna come!”

If Cooper could grin any wider, he would. No use holding back anymore. He grabbed her legs and lifted them up, then leaned over her and started thrusting into her. “Like that, baby?” 

“Oh! Fuck! Yes! Yes!” She gasped and moaned so loud, he wondered if the neighbors could hear. It didn’t matter. He didn’t fucking care. And they were probably used to it by now, anyway.

He let out his own moans as well, and it became a veritable pre-orgasm symphony as they both whimpered and cursed and groaned in ecstasy. 

“Ghhaahh…!” Finally, Lucy let out a raspy scream as her head flew back, then she scratched at his shoulders and her body began to tremble.

The Ghoul grit his teeth as he felt her muscles suddenly close in, squeezing his cock and quivering all around him with each contraction of her climax. He wanted to come too, but not yet. He knew she wasn’t done. It was quite common for her to need at least three orgasms to be satisfied. Sometimes four. Sometimes five. Sometimes fourteen. She was a beast, this one. A horny, freaky, sexy beast. And definitely gave him a run for his money. 

He continued to pump into her, despite the resistance and the fact that her pussy was squeezing so hard it was almost painful. He brought his thumb back down and started swirling it over her clit, and that earned him even louder moans. She spread her legs wider and pushed her hips towards him, thrusting a bit herself as well, until she cried out and came again. 

“Ohh! Cooper! Cooper!!”

“Fuck yeah, Lucy.” He hissed as he shuddered, trying to hold himself back from bursting.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” She cried out with his thrusts. “One more… One more!”

“Come with you?”

“Yes! Yes, come with me! Hohh...”

The Ghoul bore down, and leaned in close to her, putting his weight on the arm that was holding him up and gripping the sheets in his hand. He started to thrust, deep and hard into her, at a faster, but steady pace as he continued to rub her clit. “Oh, fuck baby…” He breathed as he felt himself getting close to the edge. All it would take was one more…

“Gyahhh!!” Lucy screamed as she threw her head back one more time. Her whole body tensed and she shuttered over and over. 

As her sopping wet pussy bit down on him again, squeezing the life out of his rock-hard cock, he released into her. “Ahh… fuck!” His penis twitched and throbbed and pulsed as it spilled gush after gush of cum into her. And his whole body followed suit, quivering and trembling as he closed his eyes and tilted his head up. Clenching his teeth and breathing in through them, he gripped her hips as he desperately and shakily continued to thrust into her, momentarily losing control.

The two of them soon paused in unison, their bodies tense and quivering, as they clung onto each other and savored the quaking ripples of their shared orgasm. Letting out whimpers and groans with each escaped breath until their bodies started to relax.

Cooper let out a sigh before he opened his eyes and looked down at his lover, who was smiling up at him with tired eyes as she caught her breath.

“You bastard.” Lucy said with a grin.

He grinned back and let out a breathless laugh. “Seems to me you enjoyed that.”

“Hmm… it was good.” She admitted, then rested her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes. “But you’re still a bastard.”

“Hundred points.”

“Pfft…” She snickered. “Whatever.”

“Champion.” 

“We'll see, we'll see." She said with a shrug.

“Master Fuck Machine.”

She let out a light cackle, “Okay, mister fuck machine.” and lightly slapped his leg as she looked up at him. “Get the fuck outta here.”

“Master.” He corrected. “With an ‘A’.” 

Lucy laughed again. “Okay, MASTER fuck machine. I’m hungry.”

Every time. It never failed. Especially after an orgasm like that. She always had to eat afterwards.

“Whatchu want, Darlin’?”

“Is it breakfast time yet?”

“Could be. Want me to cook?”

“Would you?”

“Anythang for you, Queen.” He leaned down and they shared a passionate kiss before he started to move off the bed. 

“I’ll stay here and plot my revenge.” She said with a playful smile, resting her hands behind her head. 

“Good luck with that. You’ve got a hard act to follow.” He snickered.

“Pssh…” She scoffed and threw a pillow at him. “Cocky bastard.”

“Damn right, I am.” He said with a grin as he caught it.

She laid back, and started to brush her hair out of her face, then stopped in horror when she felt the wet streak on her cheek. “Oh my GOD! Was I drooling the whole time!?”

“Yes, babe. Yes, you were.”

The End

[miladydewintcr]

The way Emmrich and a Mourn Watch Rook talk about the Necropolis though

"Let's go home 😊💕✨" "The wisps are welcoming you back ❤️" "Do you ever feel homesick-" "-YES"

god it's so CUTE they love their spooky little home so much 😭😭😭

[spiritsong]

inflicting upon you my rook ideas because I need to brainstorm. welcome to my rooks

1. loretta ingellvar | elf/death caller mage/mourn watch — the man the myth the legend! child victim/survivor of a death cult (the empty ones), found in the bowels of the necropolis by the undead (♥️ lucanis or neve)

2. shrike de riva | elf/?¹/antivan crow — witnessed her parents death at the hands of assassins after her clan had an unfortunate run-in with the crows. the crows, ever the opportunists, "took her in". yearns to be reconnected to her dalish heritage. doesn't remember her given name; shrike is a nickname. loves antivan puppetry (♥️ davrin or emmrich)

3. issala thorne | qunari/slayer warrior/grey warden — tal-vashoth², though they can't shake their belief that their self-worth is tied inherently to their function as a weapon, or an instrument of justice. chose the name issala, qunlat for dust, to reflect that. of course, the grey wardens were incredibly appealing to them as a cause. (self-sacrificial rooks where you AT 🗣️). very committed to non-violence. still gotta decide their former role under the qun (♥️ davrin or bellara)

4. valruna thorne | dwarf/reaper warrior/grey warden — smith caste, family specializes in runecrafting. mother committed a crime and joined the legion of the dead to preserve their family's standing. as an only child, valruna protested, begging for them to go the surface instead, but it was no use. despite her mother's sacrifice, several years later, valruna left for the surface, unable to stay home³ any longer. was purposeless for a long time before eventually becoming a grey warden (paralleling her mother's sacrifice YAY give it up for sacrifice again 👏) also goth dwarf (♥️ harding)

5. sylvenne mercar | elf/evoker mage/shadow dragon — born into servitude in orlais before being sold into slavery in tevinter. was eventually adopted (by this mysterious military family I GUESS). late bloomer mage; her magic manifested, her potential was obvious, and her station was raised. joined the shadow dragons as she believes in their agenda, though she has difficulty coming to terms with her own desire for power, even at the expense of other people (♥️ neve or emmrich)

6. odalis laidir | human/evoker mage/lord of fortune — elf-blooded⁴ human trained by my HoF's father, mar, who is for all intents and purposes, a Rivaini seer, though he was pushed out of the tradition due to being amab (despite his genderfluid identity). odalis, also nonbinary, was brought under mar's wing. thought joining the lords of fortune was a good way to satisfy their insatiable wanderlust (♥️ taash)

7. eirelan aldwyr | elf/?⁵/veil jumper — literally idk dont ask me. i know EXACTLY what they'll look like and their whole vibe and personality but I have no backstory (♥️ bellara or davrin or harding or emmrich)

8. ghilaras | elf/?⁶/?⁷ — protege to my HoF. dalish child orphaned due to whatever circumstance; found themselves in surana's path (or they put themselves there because HoF idolization). surana begrudgingly took them in (parallel to odalis and mar). eventually got separated when HoF went deeper into their search for a cure. ghilaras spends their life looking for her, but gets derailed by veilguard plot. also they are a falconer 🦅

9. amadeus mercar | human/rogue⁸/shadow dragon — he's a tortured bisexual that grew up in minrathous's docktown. wary of mages (I'm being generous). best lockpick in the city

everything subject to change as usual

¹ either rogue (veil ranger) or mage (spellblade); depends on stylization of the specs ² If we can't say we're tal-vashoth, this character MIGHT fall apart. nervous ³ kal-sharok?? orzammar??? ⁴ oh it hurts to say this (stares wistfully at the timeline where bioware said it's okay to be mixed race in dragon age world) ⁵ either rogue (veil ranger) or mage (death caller) ⁶ either warrior or rogue (veil ranger or duelist) ⁷ so initially I was thinking grey warden because narrative, but I like the idea of ghilaras becoming a veil ranger due to their commitment to elven culture,,,, but what if surana was like "no matter what, promise me you'll never follow in my footsteps. don't undergo the joining". BUT THEY DID ANYWAY !!! 😈 ...delicious. but also that would mean I have three grey warden rooks and that's just too much even for me ⁸ saboteur or duelist

[savvytravelers]

Luxurious Nile Cruise

Egypt Odyssey: Unraveling Mysteries Along The Nile

Embark on an unparalleled journey through the ancient wonders of Egypt with our exquisite 11-night Nile River cruise and land experience. This meticulously curated adventure includes a 3-night Cairo pre-cruise, a 7-night roundtrip cruise from Luxor, and a 1-night Cairo post-cruise, offering an all-encompassing exploration of Egypt's most iconic sights.

Day-by-Day Itinerary

Day 1: Cairo Begin your journey in Cairo, where you'll be greeted by our representative who will assist with your luggage and customs. Relax and settle into your luxury hotel, enjoying the first glimpses of the Nile from your partial view room.

Day 2: Cairo Dive into Egypt's rich history at the Egyptian Museum, home to King Tut's treasures and a vast collection of artifacts. After a local lunch, visit the Alabaster Mosque at the Citadel of Saladin, offering panoramic views of Cairo. Conclude your day with a Welcome Reception featuring tapas and drinks.

Day 3: Cairo Explore the ancient capital of Memphis, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Marvel at the Pyramids of Giza, the Great Sphinx, and the necropolis of Sakkara. Enjoy a delightful lunch at the historic Mena House Hotel, followed by a leisurely evening.

Day 4: Cairo to Luxor Fly to Luxor, the ancient city of Thebes, and embark on your luxurious river cruise ship. Enjoy a Captain’s Welcome Cocktail as you prepare for the adventures ahead.

Day 5: Luxor Visit the Valley of the Kings and Queens, including a private tour of Queen Nefertari’s Tomb. Continue to the Temple of Hatshepsut and the Colossi of Memnon. In the evening, relax on the Upper Deck or join an informal cooking class.

Day 6: Edfu Discover the Temple of Horus in Edfu, one of Egypt’s best-preserved temples. Enjoy the timeless landscapes of the Nile as the ship cruises towards Aswan.

Day 7: Aswan Opt for a free morning or an excursion to Abu Simbel, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Later, take a felucca ride around Elephantine Island and consider an afternoon tea at the historic Old Cataract Hotel. End the day with a belly dance show on board.

Day 8: Aswan to Esna Visit the Philae Temple complex and a Nubian village on Hisa Island. Continue to the Great Temple of Kom Ombo, dedicated to Sobek and Haroeris. Celebrate local customs with a Galabeya Party on board.

Day 9: Esna to Luxor Cruise to Luxor, visiting the Temple of Karnak and a papyrus shop. Explore the Temple of Luxor and the vibrant Luxor Market.

Day 10: Luxor to Qena to Luxor Sail to Qena and visit the Temple of Hathor in Dendara, the best-preserved temple in Egypt. Return to Luxor for the night.

Day 11: Luxor to Cairo Disembark in Luxor and fly back to Cairo. Enjoy an exclusive tour of the Abdeen Presidential Palace, followed by a special lunch. Explore Coptic Cairo, including the Hanging Church and Ben Ezra Synagogue.

Day 12: Cairo Bid farewell to Cairo as you prepare for your flight home, completing an unforgettable journey through Egypt's ancient wonders.

Luxurious Accommodations and Amenities

Cairo (Pre-Cruise)

Arrival airport transfer

3 nights in a luxury hotel with a partial Nile view room, daily breakfast, and complimentary Wi-Fi

Full-day Cairo tour with visits to the Egyptian Museum, Citadel of Salah Ed-Din, and Alabaster Mosque

Visit to the Pyramids of Giza, the Great Sphinx, and Saqqara Museum

Lunch at the historic Mena House Hotel

Nile River Cruise

7-night river cruise in elegantly appointed accommodations

Fine dining options, including The Al Fresco Restaurant

Wine, beer, and soft drinks included during lunch and dinner

Sip & Sail cocktail hour, Welcome Cocktail, Welcome Dinner, and Gala Dinner

Dedicated English-speaking Egyptologist guide

Nightly entertainment, including belly dance shows and a Galabeya Party

Guided shore excursions and exclusive visits to historical sites

Onboard amenities: fitness room, sun-deck pool, hair and nail salon, massage room, and complimentary Wi-Fi

Cairo (Post-Cruise)

1 night in a luxury hotel with a partial Nile view room, breakfast, and complimentary Wi-Fi

Visits to the Hanging Church and Ben Ezra Synagogue

Exclusive private tour and lunch at the Abdeen Presidential Palace

Departure airport transfer

Optional Extensions

Enhance your adventure with a 3-night pre-cruise extension in Dubai, exploring the vibrant city known for its luxury shopping, modern architecture, and lively nightlife.

Conclusion

Experience the timeless allure of Egypt on our luxurious river cruise. From the bustling streets of Cairo to the serene landscapes along the Nile, this journey offers a unique blend of history, culture, and luxury. Explore iconic sites like the Pyramids of Giza, the Valley of the Kings, and the Temple of Luxor, guided by expert Egyptologists. Indulge in fine dining, exclusive experiences, and world-class service throughout your adventure. Join us for an unforgettable exploration of Egypt's ancient secrets and modern marvels with Savvy Travelers. Unlock the mysteries of this captivating land with our Egypt Odyssey!

[felassan]

Snippets. 🐺💜

Corinne: "I’m screaming alongside the rest of y’all! It’s happening!!!!" [source]

Nathan: "Thrilled to share our latest trailer! Very proud of all these animators." [source]

Trick: "There we go." [source] / "I hear there's something at this [trailer] link now." [source]

Blair: "LIVE NOW! October 31st 💜🐉🐺" [source]

Brianne: "It's almost here... So close..." [source]

Corinne: "I’ve held the dagger in my hands, and well, needless to say I can’t wait until my own personal copy arrives. I’m definitely not going to be unhinged. 🤷‍♀️" [source]

Bryce: "if I may workpost for a sec, I'm forever grateful for days like today when I get to gush about dragon age with the fans. this community is so welcoming and my heart is so full today 💜" [source]

User: "Of the new companions, who do you think would have the best chance of beating you at pinball?" / Corinne: "Bellara, definitely. As an Elven tinkerer with a curious mind and playful spirit, I think she’d be so into it" [source]

Brianne: "So excited to share more of what we've worked on!" [source]

Corinne: "Some of the best moments I have is reading through the team’s experience, highlights, and feedback for the game. You’re right - we do love it! It’s a wonderfully talented group of folks I get the pleasure to work alongside." [source]

User: "MORRIGAN!!!!" / Corinne: "Keeping this secret has been KILLING me 😊" [source]. User: "I can't wait to find out all the other secrets that you've got in store for us." / Corinne: "Oh just you wait 😉" [source]

User: "HER CROWN I SEE THAT CROWN." [re: Morrigan] / Corinne: "👀" [source]

User: "CORINNE! It looks so good!! I can't wait to play it!" / Corinne: "Thank you so so much! The team did such a fantastic job. It’s been a labor of love for so many of us 💜" [source]

Corinne: "Can’t wait to hear about your adventures and the decisions you’ll make.I immediately preordered another copy of Rook’s Coffer even though we on the dev team get one 😅" [source]

Corinne: "I’m in awe of what this team has created 💜" [source]

Corinne: "We’re all so proud of this game and I mean it when I say we’re are just as excited to get it into your hands and hear about your adventures as your are to play it.This team is truly a wonderful group of creative people. 💜" [source]

Corinne: "The team has put so much of themselves into this return to Thedas, and believe me when I say that it means so much to all of us to see and hear about your excitement 💜" [source]

Corinne: "I’ll be honest, it still doesn’t feel real to me either that we are so close now. We all hope you’ll love this return to Thedas 😊" [source]

Corinne: "I hope you’ll share a pic of the Rook you settle on when you emerge from Character Creator. If you’re anything like me you’ll spend a loooot of time lost in the options 😉" [source]

Corinne: "Rogue is so so good. The Veil Ranger specialization is absolutely one of my favorites" [source]

Brianne: "I'm excited to see everyone's Rooks! I really like the ones I've made." [source]

Corinne: "Happy to say this time around we’ll be able to support those flowing locks in-game" [source]

The Codex is "vast" [source]

User: "question, of our 7 companions, which is most likely to be up early and watch the sunrise , which is most likely one to sleep till noon?" / Corinne: "When you see Davrin’s room, you’d certainly assume he’d be up watching the sunrise with that view. If only it weren’t in the fade 😅" [source]

User: "For purely scientific and artistic purposes....is Emmrich taller than a female elf or roughly the same height?" / Corinne: "Well… usually taller, but y’all can control your characters height now so 🤷‍♀️😅" [source]

Malcolm: "To all the people excited about the return of Her.... same, fam, same. And by Her I mean Morrigan. Just... just in case that wasn't clear." [source, two]

Malcolm: "The level art team for DA:Ve are incredible. The environments they've built are gobsmacking. I adore what they did for the Necropolis in particular." [source]

Malcolm: "And Rivain is just... 👀 Seeing this one go from early greybox to full art was such a delight" [source]

Malcolm: [image of bby Manfred] "That's my boy!" [source]

[textblock character limit break!]

User: "*remembering all those dang statues in my origin story in DAO* ah shit that’s a lot of gods" / Brianne: "You'll be fine. You... May want back-up 😁" [source]

Brianne: "While on the topic of Dragon Age: The Veilguard... I just adore him. [image of Assan]" [source]. / John: "the team's official Assan photographer" [source] / Brianne: "When I said I'd capture one, two, several more shots..." [source]

Brianne: "There are some spooky places to explore" [source]

User: "I'm so excited :)))))) I hope I spotted the bun hairstyle of one of my favorite hammer wielding characters in the world <3" [re: image of character who is probably Evka Ivo] / Brianne: "Well, would you look at that :)" [source]

Mary: "[Assan] is the best character in the game. We all know this to be true." [source]

Blair: "everyone went nuts about baby griffon, but Manfred is my boy, my sweet cheese, etc. ride or die, Manfred 💀💜" [source]

John: "am I playing our game for fun on a Friday night, I certainly am. romancing my own companion to do one last check to make sure all the conditionals work. folks it is a very strange thing" [source, two]

Trick thinks the Spellblade spec is delightful :D [source]

User: "Is Solas speaking in the Hallelujah cadence at the beginning of the Release Date Trailer ? I'm trying to match it up but the best I can get is opposite stresses although the meter is 8/8/11" / Trick: "In DAI, only a relative few lines were in that cadence. He hauls it out for special occasions. :)" [source]

Original post: "I know that the AP Stylebook says the proper possessive form of Harris is Harris'. But the AP Stylebook also says not to use the Oxford comma. It's not a serious publication, let alone an authority on punctuation." Trick: "There was an actual voices-raised argument among the BioWare Writers and Editors over S-apostrophe vs S-apostrophe-S, along with threats made to writers who proposed character names ending in S in the future. Question time: Can anyone think of an antagonist in DA:I whose name ended in S? Corypheus's assassins' scimitars's's'' blades are coated with poison." [source, two] User: "I make everybody mad by switching between -s' and -s's depending on if the "s" represents a voiced or unvoiced consonant: Anders', but Fenris's." Trick: "I think that was very close to the consensus we landed on." [source]

Mass Effect

User: "fully accept that the answer may be "that was 8 million years ago I have no idea" but did you unilaterally decide to make Thane hallucinogenic when licked while writing ME2 dialog??" / Trick: "Yes. My intention was always that Mordin was trolling you there, but I don't think everyone took it that way. 🤣" [source]

[dendroaspis-viridis]

The Hunt Ball

Katareth is the unfortunate recipient of an invitation to one of the Pentaghast’s famous hunt balls. Thankfully, a certain necromancer will also be in attendance.

Rating: T (Content warnings listed under the read more.)

Read it on AO3

Content warnings for unwanted physical contact (though nothing overtly sexual), depictions of overstimulation, consumption of alcohol, and a very brief blink-and-you-miss-it mention of losing a child.

9:42 Dragon

With the Mortalitasi’s autumn rites concluded and new initiates welcomed into the Mourn Watch, Harvestmere’s arrival was heralded by cold winds and the crunch of dead leaves underfoot.

Pulling her cloak tighter around broad shoulders, Katareth walked alongside Johanna to the little Antivan restaurant they frequented for dinner. It was within walking distance to the Necropolis, and they were always greeted by the delicious scent of spiced meats and a friendly ‘Hullo!’ from the owner as soon as they stepped through the door.

After ordering their food, they sat at their usual table by the window, sipping at warm glasses of cider to chase the chill away.

“What’s been going on in that head of yours, Kitty? I could practically hear you thinking on the way over here.”

“…Can you teach me to dance?” the qunari quickly whispered, glancing around to ensure none of the other customers overheard.

Johanna blinked a few times. Of all the things she expected Katareth to ever ask of her, that certainly wasn’t one of them.

When the older Watcher didn’t respond after a few moments, Katareth hastily explained, “I know you’ve been to several balls over the years and are much better acquainted with the more aristocratic side of Nevarran culture than I am-”

Johanna raised her hand, gently halting the reaper. “First: stop rambling. Second: of course I’ll teach you what I know. Third: why?”

She rubbed at the back of her neck. “So, you know how the Prelate invites all of the higher-ranking Mortalitasi to his family’s hunt ball every winter?” Johanna nodded disdainfully, rolling her eyes. “According to him, this one will be more of a celebration of the Inquisition’s victory, instead. He stopped by my quarters yesterday to tell me my attendance ‘will be expected at the gala to display both the Mortalitasi’s and Pentaghast’s support of the Inquisitor’s divine mission,’” she sneered.

It wasn’t that Katareth disliked Inquisitor Adaar—she'd never even met the poor kid. But she did dislike how some of the same humans who once glanced at her with wary contempt now fawned over her, viewing her as an extension of the Herald’s supposedly sacred origins simply due to the horns that rose from her skull.

Johanna sighed empathetically. “Yeah, that’s politics for ya: ‘You’re not worth my time until there’s something I want from you…’”  She thought for a moment, tapping her chin as she scrutinized the reaper. “…But it shouldn’t be too hard to teach you; you’re a quick study, and it’s honestly not that different from combat footwork. We should have… what, six weeks before the ball? That’ll be plenty of time.”

-----

Six weeks came and went, stripping trees of their foliage and supplanting dormant gardens with heaping piles of snow. During that time, Johanna had resumed her place as Katareth’s mentor. Rather than imparting the qunari with the knowledge and expertise one needed to become a Mourn Watcher, she instead taught the younger woman the elegant art of ballroom dance during lessons that often ran into the wee hours of the morning. Johanna was far more patient with Kat than she’d been during their earlier days, but found that patience chipped thinner and thinner every time her feet were smashed underfoot.

Mercifully, that happened less frequently the more they practiced, and eventually Katareth was deemed a more or less proficient dancer. She was by no means perfect, but Johanna had teasingly assured her that most of the attendees would be too drunk after an hour or two to notice her crushing their toes.

“Just tie the sash around your belt once or twice… a bit tighter-too tight! Ugh, just let me do it, Kat.” The human had been helping her prepare for the ball, ironing out the finer details of the Watch’s formal grey-green dress uniform and tossing quick glances at the door every so often.

“Hm... Okay, give me a twirl,” Johanna requested as she perched herself on the edge of a table.

Katareth did as she was told, feeling very much like Thedas’ largest dress-up doll.

“Great… now do it again, but try to not look constipated this time.”

Muttering a curse under her breath, she once again turned, recalling the many many hours dedicated solely to pirouetting properly. Evidently, they paid off when the fine, crimson silk scarf that had been looped around her waist fluttered with her movements, mimicking a glittering arc of dragon’s blood. The little red ribbon that held her ivory hair in a low bun swayed as she stopped, tickling her nape.

“Oh, very good! Well done, Katareth!” Johanna praised, elated to see her teaching put to practice.

A wide grin spread across the qunari’s face. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be as miserable as she’d feared.

“And I believe with that you’re ready.” The older woman began herding her towards the door, offering advice as they went, “Remember: just grin and bear it. You shouldn’t need to be there for more than a few hours—just long enough for people to see and meet you. But there’s no shame in retreating to a terrace to get some fresh air if things get overwhelming, either.”

Opening the door and gesturing for the qunari to lean down, Johanna made some minor adjustments to the matching red silk cravat tied around her throat, plucking invisible pieces of lint from the fabric before smoothing down her waistcoat. “There should also be a few familiar faces. Most of the Pentaghast Mortalitasi will be there obviously, but I know a few other Watchers are attending for one reason or another…” She leaned to the side, looking past Katareth down the hall.

As if on cue, Emmrich appeared from around a corner at the far end of the corridor. His elegant fingers carded through greying hair as he approached, drawing Katareth’s attention to the rich maroon lacquer that adorned each manicured nail. Like herself, he was clad in their order’s formal attire, decorated with shimmering red silk that seemed to flutter and flow with his every move. In contrast to her more reserved placements, Emmrich chose a bold arrangement that accentuated his shoulders by fastening the sashes to his epaulets, letting the fabric billow behind him like wings.

“Good evening, ladies. Apologies for my tardiness; evidently I didn’t start preparing early enough,” the necromancer admitted.

Johanna’s eyes raked over his form as she appraised his work, “I’ll let it slide this time, Volkarin—but only because you clean up nicely.”

“You look wonderful, Emmrich.” Maybe it wasn’t her most elegant or articulate compliment, but an unexpectedly large portion of Katareth’s mind was now dedicated to taking in every aspect of his appearance.

He was beautiful. Not that he wasn’t attractive before, but it wasn’t something Katareth normally paid attention to, too focused on whatever trek or project or corpse they were working on at the time to pay any mind to how someone presented themselves. Suddenly struck by his visage, however, she scanned his features greedily. The carefully-applied kohl around his eyes made their umber depths seem deeper. More entrancing, somehow. His moustache was neat and tidy, sharpened to points so razor-thin the qunari could slice the pad of her thumb on one if she were ever brave enough to try, and… was that a dusting of rouge upon his cheeks?

“Thank you!” he beamed up at her. “I could say much the same about you. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in the Watch’s formal attire, but you wear it well. Red suits you.”

Before she could respond, Johanna interjected. “Yes, yes, you both look lovely. But ‘most everyone else has already left, and there’s a fine line between being fashionably late and just late that you two are tight walking.”

“Right you are. Katareth?” The necromancer gestured down the corridor in the opposite direction he came from, beckoning the pair’s departure. The two said their goodbyes to Johanna, including a quiet, “Thank you. For everything,” from the reaper.

Johanna waved her away. “Bah, get out of here! You can thank me by not embarrassing yourself tonight. Now go!”

-----

“I was roped into this by Prelate Pentaghast, but what brings you to the hunt ball, if you don’t mind my asking?” They made a quick detour to the stables, saddling their undead mounts with varying degrees of success. Katareth was an old pro, having worked with horses on and off at her adoptive parents’ ranch for the past two decades, but Emmrich found the near-endless buckles and straps needlessly convoluted and normally left anything involving them to their resident equestrian.

“My parents insist upon it…” he sighed. “Despite Philomena’s recent betrothal and even Ulrich’s wife giving birth to my third nephew, they still maintain that I—as the eldest child—find a suitable spouse, and all but force me to attend every high-profile event I can.” Emmrich twisted a tip of his moustache as he watched her secure the last few pieces of tack. “Some parties are better than others—and I admit the Pentaghasts do know how to celebrate—but they all still have the same insipid gentry who are far more interested in what you have to offer on parchment than what you have to offer as a person.”

“That sounds… exhausting.” Her hands hesitated as she slipped leather through metal. “…I apologize if it isn’t my place, but it’s not right that they place so much pressure on you. You shouldn’t have to tolerate that. After all, it’s not as if you could control being born first.”

Katareth had been spared from the reproductive stresses of succession simply by virtue of her heritage. Being Albrecht and Petra Naletski’s only surviving child (adopted or biological), however, meant that the more practical responsibilities related to the estate were slowly being handed over to her as she matured. That was nothing, though. She’d choose a few annual meetings to review finances over having someone constantly breathing down her neck to breed like some prized horse...

The necromancer’s fidgeting hand stilled as his eyes dropped to the stone floor, ruminating over her words. “I suppose you’re right…,” he went quiet for several seconds before stating in a lighter tone, “But I think we’ve bellyached enough about family for one night. Let’s attempt to make something fun of the evening, shall we?”

She stood, satisfied that everything was properly secured before offering a strong hand to help the other Watcher into his saddle. “I’d like that. After all, the party can’t be that awful, can it?”

-----

As a matter of fact, it could be.

Within minutes of handing their overcoats off to a servant, both Mourn Watchers were swarmed by party-goers vying for their attention, herding the two in opposite directions. The small crowd surrounding Emmrich seemed more or less familiar with him, if the way they pressed themselves against him and wantonly flirted was any indication.

The humans that corralled Katareth, on the other hand, kept at least a foot of distance. At first. With every successive question they asked and every clipped answer she gave, they inched closer and closer until she felt the uncomfortable squeeze of a hand on the muscles of her bicep.

Apparently, she’d been the center of some speculation ever since Albrecht first brought the then thirteen-year-old girl to Nevarra City, but as she’d never attended any of the social balls during her youth, they’d never had the chance to pry. The Watcher briefly explained how he discovered her working in one of Hossberg’s stables during the maladaptive sabbatical that followed the death of his only child while simultaneously trying (and failing) to subtly remove strange hands from her person. ‘Just grin and bear it,’ she reminded herself.

While the qunari’s towering height drew unwanted attention wherever she went, it did have a few advantages. One such boon was her ability to reach over the gathered gentry to pluck beverages from passing waitstaff. It didn’t matter what it was, so long as it was alcoholic. After tossing back a few drinks, she reached the pleasant state of intoxication where the sharp edges of the evening’s vexations were sanded, while still remaining more or less aware of her faculties.

After almost an hour of enduring questions that ranged from vapid to downright obscene, King Markus Pentaghast rose from his throne atop a black marble dais to give a short speech, thanking Andraste for sending the Herald and commending the Inquisition for its valiant efforts to protect Thedas. He also drew attention to a few key members of the Inquisition who were in attendance tonight, praising them before ending his speech with a warbled declaration to enjoy the night’s festivities.

As he returned to his throne, the large orchestra started up again, prompting couples to take to the spacious dance floor. Katareth turned upon hearing someone clear their throat behind her, greeted by the outstretched hand of an older Pentaghast man clad in dazzling armor. The alcohol in her veins muddied his given name, though she was able to recall that he was one of the handful of Pentaghasts competing for the throne that actually stood a chance at claiming it.

“It’s not often such a beautiful, enigmatic Watcher crosses my path, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t invite her to dance. Would you do me the honor, my lady?”

‘I’d sooner flay myself and roll around in natron,’ she bit back. Maybe if Katareth was a young blushing maiden waiting to be swept off her feet, or enjoyed any of the tawdry romance books Myrna tried to get her to read, she’d be swooning at the thought of dancing with one of Nevarra’s elites. Instead, she wanted to recoil from his insincere compliments and melt into the floor.

“I believe the honor would be mine, Lord Pentaghast.” Eugh.

The dancing itself wasn’t bad, per se, but… everything else was. For someone happiest in the dimly-lit repose of the Grand Necropolis, the bright chandeliers, intense cacophony from the orchestra, and searing touch of Lord Pentaghast’s wandering hands had the reaper wanting to crawl out of her own skin. Just grin and bear it.

When the song finally came to a close, Katareth thought that would be the end of it, and she could slink to some far corner to recuperate for the rest of the evening while still technically remaining present.

Before she could even turn to leave, her hands were grabbed by another human. This one was a cocky young man who loved both alcohol and the sound of his own voice, according to his incessant, slurred chattering.

Each arrangement subjected the reaper to a new face and new grievances until a gentle hand tapped her elbow during a lull. A tall, svelte human about Katareth’s age with dark hair and oddly-familiar features grinned up at her.

“Everyone looked like they were having such a wonderful time dancing with you that I had to see what all the fuss was about,” the woman laughed good-naturedly.

Katareth gave a quiet acknowledgement, dutifully twirling and dipping and spinning her partner when the orchestra picked back up again. About two-thirds of the way through the arrangement, the sudden off-key shriek of a violin’s bow across catgut was the final nail in the qunari’s mental coffin. The cacophonous floodgate of stimuli that’d been held back by a handful of drinks gave way, overwhelming the reaper.

The clanking of armor, the boisterous laughter of people who were somehow enjoying themselves, the blinding dazzle of crystals dripping from chandeliers, it was all just too much. Even the woman’s feather-light touch upon the small of Katareth’s back might as well have been a dagger attempting to carve out her kidneys.

By some great miracle she managed to finish out the dance, but knew she had a narrow window of time before the band would pick back up, trapping her in a snare of social conventions that she knew she'd be unable to manage graciously. Wide, yellow eyes darted, scanning for the path of least resistance to somewhere—anywhere that wasn’t here. Johanna’s earlier advice echoed in her mind. A terrace, yes! She just needed to find a nice, quiet terrace to lick her wounds for the rest of the evening before she could make her escape.

“Leaving so soon, Lady Naletski? I was hoping for another,” the noblewoman teased. Wait. Had Katareth given her name? Ah, who gave a shit—she had bigger issues right now. The reaper’s distress must’ve been apparent, as the woman’s tone became tinged with concern. “Are you okay…?”

“Hm? Oh, um, I’m fine! But I might slip away for a m-moment—if that’s alright, of course? Uh, I-I just need some air.” She managed to flounder out. Maker, even the sound of her own voice scraped against her ears.

Unconvinced, but now well-aware of the Watcher’s dire condition, the human pointed toward the closest flight of stairs that would lead her from the worst of the crowds, “That should be your safest option. It was delightful getting to finally meet you, as well! Hopefully we can cross paths again under calmer circumstances soon!”

Katareth wasted no time, tossing the familiar stranger a thankful wave over her shoulder as she squeezed passed throngs of humans.

Skulking off to a blessedly-empty terrace with only a handful of little blackbirds hopping about for company, the brisk Haring air was a balm to her frazzled mind. While she could still hear the orchestra, it was muffled to a pleasant background music that Katareth could tune out, should she so choose.

She wasn’t entirely sure how long she spent leaning on the balustrade recuperating with her head in her hands, but she supposed it didn’t really matter; she’d spent more than enough time mingling with the living for one night. She’d earned this. Lifting her head to look out upon the landscape, she breathed a long sigh of relief that billowed in the cold. Both moons were full and bright, casting Nevarra City in a silver glow that glittered gently off yesterday’s snowfall. It was nice. It was quiet. She could think.

And massage at the sore muscles of her neck. Humans were certainly an interesting bunch. They were resourceful, superstitious, and individualistic, among other things. But the one detail about them that consistently caused the qunari the most grief was just how short they were. Emmrich was one of the taller humans she spoke to, and she still found herself rubbing cramps from her neck on occasion…

“Sorry to interrupt your quiet time, but I couldn’t resist introducing myself,” a rough, gravelly voice came from her left. Katareth glanced, looking down—then further down still—to see a dwarf with red hair and mischievous eyes. You’ve got to be shitting me.

“Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and according to a certain Seeker, ‘conniving little shit’,” he snickered, holding his hand up to shake. The man had a warm smile, though the confidence that dripped from his words left her wary. Even though he was one of the heroes being celebrated tonight, she’d endured her fair share of self-important men for the evening. When Katareth said nothing and made no move to take his hand, he let it fall to his side, carrying the conversation for her. “The strong, silent type, then? I can work with that.”

“It’s been a long night… Uh, Katareth Naletski. Mourn Watcher.” He didn’t seem offended when she didn’t meet his eyes, instead following the little blackbirds as they flapped about.

“Katareth… that sounds like a very Qunari name to hear in the middle of Nevarra…”

She manifested a handful of Veilfire before dismissing it with a clenched fist. It required fewer words than explaining the nuances between Qunari, Vashoth, and Tal-Vashoth, and most people understood just enough of Qunari culture to know mages weren’t viewed fondly by those who still followed the Qun.

“Ah. Yep, that’ll do it. So, does that make you one of the death mages I’ve heard so much about?”

“Not really,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I’m a bit shit at magic, truth be told. There’s another Watcher here named Emmrich Volkarin, if you’d like to talk to a real Nevarran death caller.” She felt bad trying to make the dwarf Emmrich’s problem, but the necromancer was far better equipped to speak on anything arcane. Really, he was better equipped to speak on anything.

“And miss out on the pleasure of your company? Never,” the dwarf teased. “Besides, you seem like someone worth knowing.”

She hummed inquisitively.

Varric ended up being surprisingly easy to talk to, easing her into the conversation with questions she could answer with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’. It almost made her suspicious, as multiple times during their quid pro quo, Katareth found herself divulging information she hadn’t spoken on in decades. It certainly helped that he made her quietly chuckle a few times, regaling her with stories of some of his earlier misadventures.

After a while, she saw his head turn to one of the doors leading back into the castle proper from the corner of her eye. “And that’s probably my cue to get back to the party. It was great talking to you, and I’d love to stay in touch if you’d be willing, Rook?"

“‘Rook’?”

“Yeah. Those birds you’ve been watching the entire time? They’re called ‘rooks.’” He began counting on his fingers, “They’re sociable, dark-feathered, chatty, and tend to stay in the same place their entire lives—it’s perfect, if you ask me!”

Ah. She understood, now. “If you say so.”

Varric gave her one last farewell, passing Emmrich on his way back inside.

Taking the dwarf’s place on the balustrade, Emmrich handed her a steaming mug of mulled wine. “Philomena suggested I come check on you,” he explained. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything…?”

“No, nothing like that! Uh, he just thought I was interesting—but nothing more. Wait, your sister?” She sipped, reveling in the warmth that spread through her.

He nodded, nursing his own mug, “Yes, said you were an excellent dancer, too. I’ll have to pass her praise along to Johanna; I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic.”

“I thought she looked familiar… Please give Philomena both my thanks and apologies, I was a bit… um, unpolished toward the end of our dance and she handled it very graciously.” Katareth took a longer drink, hoping he would assume the pink on her cheeks was from the cold.

The necromancer waved her shame away, “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, you certainly handled tonight better than I handled my first hunt ball, after all. And you caught the eye of one Varric Tethras.” He smirked, “…You know who’ll be kicking herself for not attending tonight?”

“Myrna!” They laughed in unison. She was probably his biggest fan, collecting signed copies of every book she could get her hands on. She was even their main source of information regarding the Inquisition due to her scouring every report from Ferelden for even a passing mention of her favorite author.

“On top of that, he even bequeathed you with one of his famous nicknames. What was it, ‘Rook’?”

“Apparently,” she grumbled.

“I could see it… After all, they’re immensely intelligent, committed, and often misunderstood by small-minded fools.” The necromancer took a long drink of wine, surveying the skyline.

“…I think I prefer your explanation.”

He smiled softly, huffing a quiet laugh.

The two Watchers stood there for several long minutes, silently basking in each other’s company as they inched closer and closer, blaming their increasing proximity on the biting cold. When their pinkies brushed against one another on the balustrade, neither retreated, and Katareth was pleasantly surprised to feel that his touch didn’t cause her to shy away. It wasn’t too much. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t enough.

Emmrich must have somehow sensed her desire, as he pulled his gaze from the cityscape to look up at the qunari. “Katareth… would you care to dance with me?” he almost whispered.

“I’d love to.” she couldn’t hide her lopsided smile. “Shall I lead?”

“If you’d prefer. I’ve no objections either way.”

The reaper nodded, moving from the railing to allow the necromancer to step even closer into her space. He placed one hand in hers, resting the other on the small of her back. Listening to the orchestra, Katareth found her place in the music, guiding her partner through the motions.

Dancing with him was overwhelming, but not in a way that had her recoiling. Instead, it was a cacophony of sensations in all the best possible ways: exhilarating and soothing and intimate and perfect. The rest of the world seemed to fall away around them, leaving the Mourn Watchers in a silvery spotlight.

Emmrich’s eyes traced along the multitude of scars and creases on her face, though she felt no judgement or derision under his umber stare. As he followed a jagged pearly scar down to where it sliced her lips, Katareth watched as a pink tongue subconsciously darted out to wet his own.

 She allowed her eyes to wander across his features, in turn. Though Johanna teased Emmrich endlessly when she first noticed the silver hairs at his temples, Katareth thought they made him even more handsome. More distinguished. Like the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that deepened whenever he smiled, or the singular paper-thin scar at his hairline.

As the music built to its conclusion, she guided the human into a few quick spins, watching in awe as the sashes at his shoulders enveloped them both in a scarlet cocoon. The grey hand at Emmrich’s waist moved to cradle the space between his shoulder blades when the orchestra hit their crescendo, concluding with a dip that left the qunari’s face hovering above his own.

The final echoes of the music faded, though neither Watcher made any attempt to right themselves, practically sharing their breaths. Maker, she wanted to close the distance… Surely, he’d taste of the rich, spiced wine they shared. But I really shouldn’t… The wine was stronger than she’d anticipated, and while she was more than capable of holding her liquor, she couldn’t definitively say the same for the man in her arms.

Besides, doing something drastic and impulsive like that would most certainly qualify as ‘embarrassing herself’ in Johanna’s bespectacled eyes.

Katareth pulled the necromancer into a standing position, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder when Emmrich swayed slightly. Whether it was from vertigo or the alcohol in his veins or an unfortunate mix of the two, she wasn’t sure.

Nevertheless, Emmrich quickly found his balance, looking between the moon’s position in the sky and the ongoing gala inside before breathlessly declaring: “And with that, I daresay we’ve stayed long enough to satisfy social norms if you’d like to return home?”

“Yes, please.” Home. She supposed it really was home, wasn’t it?

They made their way back inside, skirting around the worst of the crowds before donning their overcoats and collecting their mounts. The entire time, Katareth’s mind was fogged with a warm fuzziness that she knew wasn’t brought on by the wine.

-----

“So, what did you think of your first hunt ball?” The Mourn Watchers were a little over halfway back, riding through a gentle fall of fluffy snowflakes.

“Maker-willing, it’ll be my last.” In her opinion, there were only two positives to the evening, and her favorite was currently riding alongside her.

“Can’t say I blame you…” After a few thoughtful moments, Emmrich looked at her and quietly hinted, “You know, I think this might be my last, as well…?”

“Oh?”

His brows furrowed with determination as he took a deep breath. “I… I hate them. They’re miserable, torrid affairs, and I’m quite certain this is the first one in years where I didn’t despise every moment of it.” The necromancer’s cheeks flushed. “I just… I’m so exhausted trying to appease my parents at the cost of my own happiness—if that makes sense? I mean, Andraste’s breath, I’m closing in on forty-five and still seeking their approval!”

She nodded sympathetically. While the qunari never had to grapple with disappointing her biological parents, she had given up on trying to make Petra proud of her years ago, determining the resentful woman was a lost cause. “Trust me, I understand that sentiment all-too-well. And you have my full support, should you need it.”

He expressed his gratitude, and the pair rode in companionable silence for the remainder of the trek, returning to the Grand Necropolis just as the snowfall began to pick up.

-----

Emmrich spoke again as they entered the residential area, “While I can’t say the same for the rest of the evening, I enjoyed our time together.”

They stopped outside Katareth’s door. “Likewise. Um, we should go out more.” The reaper heard her own words and realized how they could be misconstrued with a wince. “I mean—I go to that little Antivan place not far from here with Johanna on Tuesdays and get coffee with Myrna on Saturdays. We could do something like that—if you’re interested, of course?”

He either didn’t notice her misstep, or was too polite to draw attention to it. “I’d love to. Did you-,” he paused, covering his mouth to stifle a yawn. “My apologies, ah, did you have anywhere in particular in mind?”

“Not yet, but we can decide on that in the morning.” It was rather late, and the qunari found her eyelids growing heavier by the minute.

“I'll hold you to it,” Emmrich smirked. “Oh, and one last request: could you wait until I’m at breakfast before telling Myrna about your meeting with Tethras?” he sheepishly asked.

“Of course. We’ll have to wait for Johanna, anyway, as I’m almost certain she’d throttle me if I didn’t,” Katareth snorted.

“Good point. Well, I’ll see you in the morning…” he turned to walk away, stopping briefly with a playful glint in his eyes. “…Rook.”

When she gave him a withering look, the necromancer defended himself, “You have to admit it’s better than ‘Kitty Kat.’”

“Go to bed, Emmrich,” the reaper groaned at his invocation of Johanna’s obnoxious nickname, unwilling to concede. “Your lack of sleep is making you delirious.”

He laughed, and it was the most wonderful music she’d heard all night. “Maybe you’re right… Regardless, sweet dreams, Katareth.”

“Sweet dreams, Emmrich.”

[77338-fr]

she's far from done yet but I must share quinine my friend quinine

(brief lore)

>former architect of the isolated living spaces of her flight's oracles (im at the black lodge backrooms large hadron collider im at the combination black lodge backrooms large hadron collider)

>No Longer Welcome back home, part of my necropolis setting now (between plague and earth's coastal borders, massive mostly underground intergenerational graveyard)(soulsborne type location)

>helping to expand and renovate the lower chambers now :) she's fine its fine that she knows her works will only ever fill up with more dead people (her new boss seems to be in a hurry to fill them, too) don't worry about it