davrinsleftpectoral

[davrinsleftpectoral]

A word with friends 8-25

Thanks @hedwigoprah for starting this challenge it’s always fun, and thanks @serensama for hosting this week!

Chapter 13 of Modern day assassins (how is it already 13? Idk) 2.8K words sorry it’s kind of long but plot is happening (this chapter has my wip Wednesday piece and my seven sentence piece in it) or read it in ao3

Rules: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends. Happy writing!

This Week's word is :: Latibule (noun)

A cosy, safe, secluded space

A small, hidden/hiding space

A place of comfort and refuge

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Shouts rose into the air and the sound of a few gunshots pinged around the roof. Zalan bit back a curse, raising a hand to make sure his mask was firmly in place before jumping at the tall wall in front of him. Grabbing a windowsill he hoisted himself up, leaping to the next hand hold, and the next before he was grabbing a metal ladder and climbing the few steps to the rooftop.

Sprinting to the edge of the building he threw himself the five feet to the next building, landing and immediately tucking into a roll before bouncing back up to his feet.

“Harding I’m heading passed the Daathrata building, does the Blackthorne Pharmaceuticals building still have a roof access hatch or have they closed that up yet?” He asked breathlessly into his earpiece as he rushed an inner corner, climbing up the wall along the cable raceway running up the building.

“One of the crows works there still as a night guard so it should be open.” She told him after a moments pause. She sounded out of breath too from her own mad scramble down from her perch. But while he was leading the cops after him in a wild chase she was getting out of her scouting spot and heading into the hotel below. Zalan was pretty sure she was at the Elfroot Inn but he couldn’t be sure with so many of the big hotels being on that block.

The crow came to a skidding halt by the entrance hatch and yanked it open, leaping down into the building, pulling the door closed behind him.

The floor was clean and white and his sneakered feet landed with a small squeak, still crouched from the drop and looking around. He was in a storage room with shelves and he frowned. This wasn’t the easiest place to blend in but it had been the closest.

Finding a quiet corner he pulled his backpack off and took off his outer layers to change into casual suit pants and a button up, cuffing his sleeves and stuffing his mask and hat into his bag with his clothes. Digging around his bag he found a badge clip on and made sure to turn it so the blank back was showing. It wouldn’t pass anyone truly observant but it would help him blend in while he navigated the building down. Finally ready enough he snuck from the storage room and started his trek down the halls looking for an elevator past the rooms with big windows and men in lab coats and goggles. It looked like there was someone visiting based on how many people were gathered around the tall human in a vest and meticulously combed graying hair.

//

Harding was rounding the corner, the pharmaceutical corperate building coming into view when she almost sensed the eyes on her. Not slowing her pace she checked for traffic and then crossed the street, managing a casual glance around her. She tried to exude nothing suspicious to see here energy, just checking as she crossed but the look around had been enough to spot the large Qunari man behind her. He was a poor tail, even at just her glance he’d ducked into an alley between buildings and only made himself more obvious. She huffed a breath but made her way to Blackthorne's entrance, tapping her foot impatiently. She couldn’t linger here with the Qunari around. It would probably be weird but she pushed into the lobby, pretending to talk into her phone, giggling and shy like someone in a new romance.

The receptionist looked up and frowned at Harding but didn’t say anything yet. Twirling one of her braids around her finger she looked out the door and the man had stopped a building away but was clearly staking it out. Looking back to the elevators like she was expecting someone she nodded enthusiastically to her pretend caller and prayed that Zalan would be showing up soon.

With a ding the doors finally slid open and Zalan was rolling a sleeve to his elbow as he waltzed out, flashing a friendly smile at the receptionist before beelining to Harding. The lady at the desk gave a little wave, obviously used to fake pleasantries with the many people working here.

“What’s up?” He asked her with a worried crease in his brow as he took her bag from her like a good boyfriend and slung it over his shoulder and leading them both out the door onto the sidewalk. Harding took his hand, leading them away from the man that had been following her and kept their pace brisk.

Leaning towards him like she was enjoying their stroll she jerked her chin in the general direction behind them. “We’ve got someone following us. I picked him up earlier and he waited for us to leave.” She didn’t like that they hadn’t walked away when she’d entered the building, the Butcher’s men usually gave up pretty quickly, content to just make them nervous before letting them get away. This one was more persistent.

“Could he be a cop?” Zalan was keeping his voice low and she could see a muscle tick in his jaw, unhappy that he’d been following Lace around while she was alone.

She hummed in thought at that, “If he is he’s extremely green. He was almost jumping at shadows earlier when I was trying to get a good look at him.” The dwarf smiled and tugged Zalan’s arm knocking him around in a bid to let him see their follower better. Zalan chuckled and moved with her playing along and then nodded, catching sight of the man.

“Whatever he is we should probably lose him.” Zalan let go of her arm, stuttering just a step so he was slightly behind her. “How do you want to do this?”

//

"You…" She sounded disbelieving. Her whole body went rigid, shock filling her face. “What?” She screeched, taking a step back, away from Zalan.

Zalan held his hands out in front of him. “Wait, Harding, hear me out,” he started, trying to reach out for her, as if he could make her understand if he could only touch her.

“Hear you out?” She repeated, voice rising in volume and pitch. “What is there to hear? You SLEPT with another woman! How can you possibly explain away that?”

“No I really can explain Harding—” but she cut him off.

“And with one of OUR friends? I know that Ilene is pretty, but is that all takes? Dark eyes and long hair? I wasn’t enough for you, you needed to have someone else to fill your needs?” She scoffed, voice still inappropriately loud.

“It was a mistake, Lace. We’d been out drinking, and I was upset,” Zalan tried to start again, still reaching out to her.

“You think ALCOHOL makes you any less accountable? That’s even worse!” She screeched, pushing him again.

Zalan stiffened. “As if you are entirely free of blame? You brought your mother into our home, and we haven’t had a minute alone in months!” He said, his voice starting to rise to match Harding’s.

“So my Ma is in town for a few weeks and you just can’t keep it in your pants anymore?” Harding screamed, shoving Zalan again as he’d been trying to come closer to her. Bystanders were stopping to gawk at the pair, some calling their friends over to watch the show. Harding took a breath, ready to start yelling again when she heard a familiar voice in the crowd.

“Harding? Is that you?” Cassandra asked, pushing her way past some pedestrians that were enjoying the show.

“C-cassandra,” she stammered.

“Are you all right? I heard shouting?” Cassandra asked, frowning and glaring at Zalan suspiciously.

“We’re fine, just having a discussion,” Zalan said, reaching for Harding’s arm.

Harding dodged him again, “A discussion about how I’m through with your cheating ass?” She yelled, ducking behind Cassandra using her like a makeshift shield.

Cassandra gasped dramatically, bless her heart. Harding shouldn’t have been shocked that her old friend would take her side immediately.

"Come on Lace we can talk about this." He tried, trying to step closer. He managed to snag Harding's arm and before the dwarf could say anything else Cassandra had swung at Zalan, landing a punch square to the nose. He gasped, grabbing for his face and stepping back, reeling in pain.

//

Cassandra was leading Harding away from the scene- tugging at her arm and cursing Zalan’s very existence while telling Harding she was better than that crow- before the scout was able to get the words out explaining what was really happening. That it had all been a rouse, to cause a commotion and draw a crowd. A rouse that had worked too- right around the time Cassandra had shown up Lace had spotted the Qunari, uncomfortable in the gathered crowd, turn and leave. The taller woman had pulled them both down a little road between buildings when Harding finally got her to stop.

Zalan had gone around the block, catching up and cutting off the exit Cassandra had been leading the pair of them to, a hand still pressing a cloth, that Harding realized must be his fabric mask, over his bleeding nose.

“You have a mean right hook.” He informed her, words muffled behind his fingers. The taller woman rolled her eyes and crossed her arms thrusting a hip out, clearly pissed. Probably at both of them.

They stared at each other a moment, or Zalan stared and Cassandra glared before snapping, “If you are waiting on an apology you will be waiting indefinitely.”

Zalan only chuckled, a bitterly amused sound, and shook his head, “No it’s fine, I’m glad to know you’ve got Harding’s back even against me.” He winced, pulling his hand away as Lace walked over, letting her check on his nose. It was still trickling blood but it didn’t look crooked enough to be broken. It was definitely bruising up, the skin already starting to swell up. Cassandra was opening her mouth, no doubt to say something else snarky when the little payphone nestled quietly in between two light poles started ringing. Zalan stared at it for a moment, Harding saying something to Cassandra about being nice but he stopped listening and walked over to it, glancing around suspiciously. He was scanning the area, looking for subtle movements near the roofs or windows in the buildings but all seemed quiet. Harding finally managed to shush Cassandra and Zalan motioned with a hand to stay back just in case before picking up the phone.

Neither woman did as he asked and both, after glancing at each other with serious, suddenly very alert faces came to stand close to try and listen in.

“Zalan,” The voice was a staticky hushed whisper. Dareth’s voice. “I have the location. It’s not safe, they’ve got ears everywhere. Tell no one else.” There was a pause, rustling noises from the other end. Zalan frowned, pressing the receiver harder against his ear trying to pick up background noise.

“Dareth tell me where.” He finally pushed, speaking quietly but urgently and finally there was quick breathing but the man was back and talking.

“Where the drowned streets lie, there’s a little park near many canals. I don’t know how many barrels of the stuff there are. But you have to get rid of them. All. If you don’t—“ There was the sound of cursing and the hard breathing of someone running. “Just get them all.” And he was gone. There was just the dial tone and more questions. He looked to Lace, she’d been nearly pressed to the side of his head trying to listen in and he looked intense,

“I need a map.”

//

The drowned district was what many of the locals called one of the poorer end of the city. It was filled with tiny apartments complexes older than Zalan; many crumbling and leaking and water damaged from the floods many years back- thus the nickname.

The Canals were one of the oldest building complexes, cheap rent, typically full of families hard strapped for cash but trying their best.

There wasn’t much in the area, the streets were rough, sidewalks cracked where there were sidewalks, and the buildings all smushed together leaving little room for anything else. The only thing the area did have was one tiny little park where a building had collapsed nearly seven years ago now. It wasn’t much but it had green grass, trees, a swing set and a badly maintained soccer net.

Zalan pointed again at the location on the map Harding had pulled up on a small tablet while putting his earpiece back in and dialing Viago’s number.

“Didn’t you say Dareth said not to tell anyone else?” Harding hissed at him, shaking her head even as the phone rang in his ear.

“We don’t know how many barrels there are, we need Viago. He’ll gather the people he trusts the most and I trust his judgment.” He told her in a rush, before straightening up as the Talon answered and he began filling him in as quickly as possible, all business. Cassandra looked at Harding,

"I should call Varric, this feels like something he ought to know—“ She had started pulling out an old flip phone but Zalan put his hand over hers, shaking his head.

“He’ll want to tell the public, he’s a good guy and he’ll want to report on it. That’s what he does. But we have to keep this quiet.” Zalan hissed, “If he gets it out before we’ve cleaned up the mess we’ll have mass panic. If it’s after it could start a massive gang war that nobody wants.“

Cassandra twisted her hand out of his grasp but sighed tucking the device away. “The last time he was with you when he shouldn’t have been was when he got hurt so I will leave it, for now. But you will have to tell him about this later.” It was a warning. Zalan nodded, guilt squeezing at his heart. He’d been the one who’d gotten Varric hurt, he didn’t want the older dwarf- the slower less mobile man, to be put right in front of the danger this time. Not again.

“Go home Cass. Make sure you both stay safe. Let the Crows handle this- it’s our city.” He stared at her in the eyes a long time and she glared, but finally shook her head in anger and huffed out air, agreeing but clearly very unhappy about the situation.

Harding tugged on Zalan to get him moving and then led him through the back alley at a fast jog to where she’d left the motorcycle they’d hot wired to get to the job. She’d have to do it again but it would be quicker than trying to run there, even if they tried to take mostly rooftop shortcuts away from the traffic of the people.

//

The neighborhood came into view, Zalan stretching up, looking around Harding as she sped closer. It was a sleepy little place, the setting sun casting brilliant colors across the apartments. It was a weekday and based on the small amount of people out and about it seemed many families were inside either eating dinner or preparing for the next day.

Pulling the bike up to a curb Harding cut the engine and sat up as Zalan hit the kick stand. They watched a couple kids drawing with chalk on one of the sidewalks leading to the little park and he watched Lace furrow her brow. This wasn’t their usual battleground and he could feel her unease. How many children were out right now? How many parents? Zalan knew what would happen if the gas overtook them all. The carnage.

Together the two found a spot mostly hidden from view to put back on the top layers of gear and then start their climb. Jumping from window to window and using loose bricks as handholds to hoist each other up until they were on the roof of one apartment building. From there they spotted a few other crows, standing and crouching on the ledges overlooking the area. Harding and Zalan followed suit, glancing down into the grid of homes and little roads, worry worming it’s way into his stomach.

Static crackled over the crow radio as the handful of crows began reporting in, Zalan and Harding both following suit while searching the area for signs of the barrels. Harding already had her helmet on, scope down and scanning the area.

She pointed to a spot just as Ilene’s voice came over the radio, “Spotted one, it’s tucked up beneath a tree here by the park.”

Harding spoke up next, “I’ve got one near the trash cans by the apartments.” And then a few more muttered sightings too, everyone sounding more and more serious as they reported. Finally they were quiet, they had spotted five barrels of the stuff and the unsettled silence said a lot about how they were feeling.

What was supposed to be a latibule for this block full of residents and families just trying to get by was now on the precipice of disaster.

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@sandcastlekings Just tagging some of you guys in case you wanna see it: @davrinsleftpectoral @chaosherald @kabsey @serensama @grand-crow @notyourmamasdeerbat @aetherflowers @woundedsoul12 @hedwigoprah @bronzieinthedas @therivercrow @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai @jenn2d2

(If you don’t want to be tagged or do want in just let me know)

[davrinsleftpectoral]

[davrinsleftpectoral]

@winebearcat for you

Because line cook Anders would fight Templars in the Waffle House parking lot

[davrinsleftpectoral]

A weird thing I googled today, led me down a rabbit hole. So now I share this fact with all of you.

Kurt “The Mountain Man” Steiner holds the Guinness World Record for stone skipping, achieving 88 skips in 2013.

If I can get 3 or 4 in a row I’m happy lol.

[davrinsleftpectoral]

Useless Veilguard fact of the day: Day 206

Even though Solas is a temporary companion that joins Rook during the final mission, he still has a follower file. In that file, his faction is set as Inquisition.

Check out the tag for more useless facts: #useless davg fact of the day!

[davrinsleftpectoral]

EMMRICH WEEK 2025 PROMPTS

Emmrich's week will take place from Monday, October 6th to Sunday, October 12th! The hashtag for this event will be #emmrichweek2025.

If you'd like to participate, do check out our FAQ & Rules—our inbox is always open for additional questions!

Please use the hashtag when posting anything for the event. However, tagging us directly is the best way to ensure we're able to see your creations and reblog them!

A huge shout-out to everyone who shared their ideas in the Emmrich Week prompt survey. We chose prompts that included as many of those ideas as possible, and we're super excited to see what you create with them!

[davrinsleftpectoral]

NUG E CHEESE MERCH

My shop is live (finally) and everything is up!! There’s a ton of choices- clothes, bags, stickers, magnets! There’s some really silly stuff thats really expensive and you shouldn’t get but you should look at because they’re fun lol

I’ve marked everything at zero profit so it’s as cheap as I can make it (there’s a sale going on right now too, it ends today but redbubble has sales often) and it does look like shipping is international

Here’s some of the designs and products

And one special one I designed as a surprise for lighthouse high in the reunion

I have about 8 designs up for Nug e cheese with some variants for products

(If you would rather iron on something yourself- don’t have the right shirt color or if shipping or prices are just out of your budget and would like to do iron ons or make your own stickers message me and I can send the designs to you, I’ll do it) (as long as you aren’t a rando)

Nug e cheese squad tag: @hedwigoprah @davrinsleftpectoral @jenn2d2 @serensama @chaosherald @woundedsoul12 @kabsey @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai @notyourmamasdeerbat @bronzieinthedas @sandcastlekings @jukkaricity @therivercrow @cute-ellyna @grand-crow @aetherflowers @himluv @seaglassmelody @serstolas @in-the-drowning-deep @mythals-whore (i’m probably missing some people sorry! I’m running late for work)

[davrinsleftpectoral]

Emmrich is crying, you guys.

This wouldn’t normally be a problem. People cry, even senior members of the Mourn Watch who wrap themselves in dignity and academics like armor.

But Taash is the one who comes to his door and finds him slumped over his desk in a fit of tears.

He isn’t even crying that loudly, really. Taash has known some of the Lord’s of Fortune to bawl and howl after a tense moment, or a few too many drinks.

Emmrich is crying in a quiet, restrained way, with shaking shoulders and his mouth muffled in his hands. It’s heartbreaking, but surely Taash is not the right person to help with this.

Manfred thinks differently and hisses at them when they try to leave.

Well too bad, this is not what Taash was expecting to find when the skeleton came to them for help.

They try to push past Manfred, and his bones rattle loudly against the doorway. Enough that Emmrich looks up in alarm.

“Oh,” he splutters, and fumbles for an actual cloth handkerchief. He tries to get ahold of himself, but for some reason the sight of Taash seems to only increase the flow of tears.

And now its too late to back out.

“Hey,” Taash says, slipping into the room, “it’s…it’s okay. Whatever’s wrong i’ll help. Are you hurt?”

“No.” the death mage sniffs, wiping ineffectually at his streaming eyes and wet cheeks. He blows his nose and its adorably like a honk. “It’s just that…” he gestures widely, encompassing the whole Lighthouse. “…everyone is so kind.”

Oh. Taash feels their own eyes sting, quickened by the amount of emotion on their friend’s face. They get it. They’ve all drawn so close together here, not just through battle and trauma. Its about Lucanis and Bellara’s dinners, Rook’s stupid jokes, and Neve’s concerned looks.

Taash gets it. They’re a weird little family. And maybe they wipe away some tears of their own as they envelop the skinny mage in a hug, and Manfred hisses happily.

(I love you guys. I am overwhelmed by this little community we have. Thank you) <3

[davrinsleftpectoral]

I wish I could tag everyone that I saw posting over the week but my memory isn’t that good lol. So I’ll just mention some lovely mutuals that I had so fun reading your stuff. It was such a fun lucanis filled week.

@blackwall-my-tiny-husband @woundedsoul12 @chaosherald @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai @serstolas @himluv @biowaredisasterbisexual @serensama @bronzieinthedas

Yesterday we wrapped up our sixth event of seven, Lucanis Week 2025! We were so excited to see all of the incredible artworks everyone made, and all of the love for our Demon of Vyrantium!

If you enjoyed someone’s work this week, we’d like to encourage you to reblog this post and tag them so that they know their work was appreciated! Please help us continue to spread the love in this community, and for all the beautiful pieces that were created this week!

And a reminder that we do take late submissions– if you have something you’d like to contribute, please use the #lucanisweek2025 tag or tag us @datvcompanionweeks, and we will be happy to reblog your submission!

Thank you all again for sharing your talents and your enthusiasm! We hope to see you in October for #EmmrichWeek2025 💀!

[davrinsleftpectoral]

A Word with Friends: September 1st

Hello hello! I'm honored to be hosting this week's A Word with Friends! Looked forward to it all month, big thank you as always to @hedwigoprah for this incredible exercise and its ensuing adventures. 🧡

This week's word is

Deliquesce

verb - (of organic matter) become liquid, typically during decomposition. - Chemistry (of a solid) become liquid by absorbing moisture from the air.

These challenges are available to complete at any time! They can be as long or as short as you see fit. If you tag me, I'll share it!

In truth I just learned this word in an audiobook a fresh eight hours ago. My original choice was set aside, I like this one too much. I haven't been feeling so hot, and I think the piece I chose to write reflects that. This is a not-so-hot kind of word. Use it however you like! Some heavy emotions under the cut. Rook deserved a little breakdown. As a treat. May explore this more with time, when my mind is stronger and the words come easier.

****

"There now," Emmrich said, with a kind of gentle finality, as he placed a cup and saucer trailing steam in front of Rook with a musical clink. "Everything will be alright."

Rook sniffed, looking somewhat listless as they regarded the silver ribbons of steam roiling in the shallow basin of the china, thick with the smell of jasmine. Their eyes were red from crying. A muscle worked in their jaw for a moment, pulsing, as they tried, and failed, to speak.

He was struck by the strength of the movement, the normally dormant (at least visually) stretch of deep masseter and its feathering jump-snap intensity. How it, like so much of the young adventurer before him, remained hidden and composed beneath a superficial veneer of flesh, only to strain itself once again on something too vast for the mind to control.

After a while, they spoke in a small voice, not looking at him. "…I'm sorry, Emmrich."

"My dear, what ever for?" Frowning, the necromancer lowered himself into the seat across from the rogue. Manfred, who had been kind enough to brew the tea himself, hissed his agreement. The skeleton folded the silver tray under one bony arm before bustling off towards the winding study stairs, off on some other unknowable quest.

The hour was late. Emmrich hadn't meant to intrude, passing the massive door of his neighbor's semiaquatic chambers, but when he'd heard the gentle thump and the muffled cries, instinctually he'd feared the worst.

He knew better than most what dampened sobs could sound like swallowed by cloth or pillow.

He did the polite thing, of course. Knocked. Called out softly. He imagined more than heard the little gasp of shame and terror, but when the door opened a crack, revealing the meager glow of the aquarium and cold darkness beyond, as well as a single, watery blue eye and mop of bedraggled hair, he'd felt his heart break.

"Are you alright?" Emmrich had murmured, gentle and earnest, though he knew the answer. How could he not?

Rook had only watched him, wary, their shoulders drooping under the colossal weight of exhaustion. They seemed to consider their answer, before something won out behind their gaze, and they started to cry softly, leaning heavily on the stone door.

The necromancer had taken them into his arms in seconds, holding them, and when Rook's knees seemed to weaken and their fists curled tight into the back of his satin vest, strong body wracked by sobs, he whisked them quietly across the hall and into his study. Manfred had sprung instantly to work with a chatter of true alarm, bustling over to examine Rook for injury as Emmrich lowered them into his desk chair and, finding none, rattling at great speed for the kettle.

He really was learning so fast. Dimly aware of a flash of gratitude and extreme pride, Emmrich returned his attention to the quietly crying rogue before him. He settled a firm hand on their shoulder and smoothed a lock of hair from their face, bending slightly to meet their gaze. "I must apologize for my haste," he murmured as he searched their face for a clue to the source of this distress, or reassurance to their clarity of mind. "It was presumptious, but I thought you might like a little more privacy. Would you like me to fetch anyone? Lucanis, perhaps?"

"No!" Rook croaked, somewhat alarmedly, clutching his hand in an ice cold fist, eyes wide and startled by panic at the concept. "No thank you," they repeated, more softly, swallowing a broken half-hiccup and looking away from him with another shuddering breath. Tracts of tears dripped steadily down their cheeks and chin.

It was difficult now to compare this crumbling human in their night shirt to the valorous sabre-wielding Veil ranger that had been carving through Venatori mere hours ago. The Hero of the Veilguard seemed about ready to deliquesce into the quilted velvet of their seat, like a beached jellyfish melting into the damp of a muddy tidepool.

An ocean animal, dashed across the jagged rocks of an unfogiving shore. Splattering painfully against the inevitable barriers all bodies must impact in times of unimaginable stress. Grim imagery indeed.

Emmrich's frown deepened from where he now sat, crossing one knee over the other as Rook tried to answer his previous question.

"For… this. Oh, it's ugly." With a delirious little chuckle, Rook wiped at their eyes, still not looking at him.

"Dear Rook," he murmured, brows rising as he leaned across the desk and took their hand in his own. "To be frank, I am rather surprised this has not happened much sooner, and quite ashamed you feel the need to conceal it from us."

"I just… Damn it, Emmrich," they whispered, voice wobbling as they covered one eye with the back of their palm, curving in on themself with another rattling sob.

"It's quite alright," he soothed, smoothing his thumb over the webbing of their thumb and forefinger as he watched them, his ribs threatening to tear themselves in two at the raw aching of the meat of his heart. "You have every right to this, you know."

"I can't… I don't want them to think…" The words choked out on a painful sounding whimper, Rook's lower lip crumpling, and they held their free hand over their mouth as if to stop the words from tumbling out, eyes squeezed tight shut.

"Shh," the necromancer lulled, sympathy in every word. "Take a deep breath. Have a bit of your tea."

Rook did their best to comply, taking a deep, wobbly inhale through the sandpaper of their mouth and lifting their tea in a trembling hand, palm pressed straight to the hot porcelain in a determined curve, pressing the edge to their lips. They sipped, seeming to come to grips with something in the depths of the tea as they drank carefully, still not looking at him, but squeezing his hand tightly between them.

Emmrich waited patiently, relieved to watch his young companion drain the entirety of the teacup in measured gulps before setting it carefully back into its saucer. They exhaled sharply, visibly trying to gather their wits back to them like plates of armor as their eyes searched the invisible lines of doubt and explanation most certainly not written into the grain of the walnut surface of Emmrich's desk. He knew, because he had searched that desk in a similar manner many times before.

He heard Rook seize control of their breathing. Listened to the stubborn hitch of their diaphragm against the stuttering inflation of their plueral pleuras. They wiped their eyes again on the cheery, faded yellow wool of their sleeve, and let their eyes flicker up into his face. They set their jaw, as if suddenly irate with the circumstances. "I hate doing this."

"This?" Emmrich prompted, pleased to find that Rook had not let go of his hand, palm clammy and rough against his own.

"Crying. Complaining. Blubbering like a fool."

"Rook," he said, very seriously, his expression carefully stern. "It is not at all foolish to feel the need to cry. I happen to do it rather a lot, myself." He buried the twinge of shame that the words unearthed in the tomb of his solar plexus, willing the emotion away with the same care and courtesy he would will a particularly bothersome spirit on an expedition within the Necropolis.

Horror flitted briefly across the rogue's open features as they scrambled to form words, squeezing his hand tightly and pulling it closer to them across the desk. "No, I only meant—" Another deeply distressing crumpling of their chin and lower lip as their eyes began to shine again. "I'm sorry," they managed, voice high and tight. "I didn't mean—"

"I know that, surely," Emmrich reproached, not unkindly, as he reached out to take Rook's other hand, the empty china framed neatly between their arms. "But I wish you would not discredit your emotions with such… belittling, as you wouldn't do this for anyone else. You are much too kind a person for that."

"I feel… like a coward," Rook whispered, mouth a thin line as they sniffed, forcibly. Emmrich released one of their hands and fished a handkerchief from his pocket, offering it to them. They took it gratefully. "I'm hiding away in here, while the world is crumbling out there, and I should be… I mean…"

"You must make the time to sleep. To eat. To prepare. You are exhausted, my dear, and as little as I mind taking the time to heal you, there is only so much even my magic can repair. What you are feeling now is only treatable in this fashion. A good cry. Tea. Good company— I suppose I will have to suffice." His lips quirked upward, uncertain, and Rook only started to cry again, face buried in his handkerchief and clutching his hand in a vice grip.

He worried, somewhat distantly, that the bands and cut stones of his rings and grave gold, would cut and impress themselves upon the hero's clever fingers.

"The world is waiting," he agreed, sighing as he watched Rook's shoulders shake. "But it can wait much longer than you may expect. You cannot be everywhere at once, my dearest Rook. It is simply too much for one person to handle."

"I know," Rook crackled into the handkerchief, trembling.

"We are working at every angle as best we can. Under your competent guidance."

A sob. "Competent?"

Emmrich, despite himself, felt his lips curve. "Quite."

Manfred rattled his way back down the stairs, hissing and shrieking softly, more to himself than anyone else, a small stack of books clutched protectively to his chest. He tottered with the weight of the thick tomes, working his way dutifully to Rook's side and setting them down as gently as he could manage in the space before the rogue on the desk.

Rook, evidently puzzled and somewhat startled by the wisp's antics, wiped at their eyes against the crook of their elbow and peered down at the books. "Oh. Thanks, Manfred?"

The skeleton hissed, pleased, and waved a series of phalanges at the stacked spines. Emmrich sighed. "He has been reading, though I've only provided him with simpler, illustrated texts. Mostly for children. Manfred, what is it exactly that you've—"

Rook made a soft, strangled noise, free fingertips tracing down the stacked spines of what appeared to be two encyclopedias and a battered novel. Emmrich recognized with a start the embossed green leather of The Botanical Compendium by Ines Arancia, which he understood far exceeded Manfred's current reading level. Lightning Insects, Dung Beetles and Lacewings: Winged "Pests" and Their Significance to the Thedas Ecosystems by Gabriel Andre, 9:17 Dragon.

The Dasher's Men by Varric Tethras.

"Help," Manfred croaked, grinning his eternal grin, goggles reflecting candelight.

Rook's eyes began to water again as they reached up clumsily to sling their arm around his scapulas. "Aw, Fred," they whimpered. "Thank you."

"Help!" the skeleton crowed, triumphing. Emmrich cocked his head, regarding his pupil with a fond sort of confusion, before a theory began to weave itself to mind.

"Did the Lighthouse conjure these for you in the bookshelves, Manfred?" Another of the curious overlapping of the Fade and each interpersonal reality, likely a threaded ancient enchantment into the walls of this grand fortress. An intentional and sentient etheric displacement, reminiscent of Anushka's Metaphysical Interprence Theory. They had observed it many times here in the Dread Wolf's old sanctuary.

The wisp clapped his hands, leaning bodily into the curve of Rook's arm. "Yes!"

"I see. Well done, my boy." Emmrich leaned back in his chair with a smile. "Quick thinking, I'm most impressed. These titles hold significance, Rook?"

The Veil Jumper sniffed again, rather forcefully, and turned their head to blow into the handkerchief, coming up for air with an uncomfortable huff. "Sorry," they began, stuffy. "Um. Varric's book— First I read of his. Before I knew him. I loved it, though it's lesser known than some of his later stuff. My father kept it in his study. Er, the bugs, were also of interest to me. Before. Must have read that one a thousand times in Alois' personal library— oh he hated bugs." Rook gave a watery smile. "The plants are just… a nice addition. An interest you and I have. Something for now, I guess." They turned their head again with a noisy little warble into the handkerchief. It was strangely endearing. "I'm sorry, Manfred, I'm not feeling so well."

"Know," the skeleton cooed, clumsily reaching up to pat at Rook's hair.

**

[sniff] yeah I'm not sure. Rook is missing a very important figure of their past very very keenly. Emmrich, I feel, is the best person for them to explore that loss with. This is shortly after Rook and Lucanis become "official", as well as the Warden defense of the horde assault on Lavendel, but everything is still so new, and Rook struggles immensely with being vulnerable with their own pain and grief. Besides. Lucanis has enough on his plate.

Even Rooks cry, man. They need that release eventually. Not to say that this word has to be angsty! I cannot wait to see what you all do with it, it makes me excited.

With a weary heart, tagging my most lovely beloveds:

  @draco-illius-noctis @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @davrinsleftpectoral @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @hedwigoprah @sunny374940 @nevarrantorte @caughtnyact @seaglassmelody @strugglinggranola @jenn2d2 @woundedsoul12 @aetherflowers @officialnostradamus @fenrelmercar @redheadsramblings @thesummerstorms @jukkaricity @madamemortem @spinfins

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Another lovely week! Thank you mods, you’re all the best. ❤️ and you deserve a rest!!!

Yesterday we wrapped up Lucanis Week 2025 on @datvcompanionweeks-- everyone made such cool stuff, I hope you had a great time! As always, I'd like to take a moment to extend a huge thank you to all of the mods for their amazing work this week!

Thank you @grimrevolution, @mageofquandrix, @thedissonantverses, @flowersforthemachines, @theunsinkablesappho, @biowaredisasterbisexual, and @the-sparrohawk! This week was a massive team effort, with people pitching in to take shifts on the blog and do SO much behind-the-scenes work! I really appreciate it!

And I hope you will all join me in extending a HUGE thank you to @basedonconjecture, who did so much work to make Lucanis Week a success! You stepped up and took the reigns so smoothly and effectively-- it is truly a joy to work with you and to see the amazing things you create! <3 Your enthusiasm and dedication is why we were able to put on such a successful and wonderful event, last week!

I am so proud of all of the mods, once again, who worked around the clock (pretty literally lol) to keep things running smoothly and show everyone a great time. Thank you SO much for all of your hard work and dedication, once again! <3

This week was incredible! 🍾🎉Please take a break, and I will see you in October for #EmmrichWeek2025!

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NEVER STOP BEING OBSESSED WITH YOUR OCS 🫵

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Lucanis Week Day 7

Free Day

"Crossing" (~1k words, also on Ao3 - pre-game. Also "A Word with Friends" started by @hedwigoprah for the word "Intractable." The rest of the week was planned well in advance - I left day seven open to see what would happen and here we are with a meeting of crows <3)

It is only after the young lady left, clutching the bag of andris Lucanis pressed into her hands, that the reality of the situation sank in.

He had just failed a contract.

The knife was still in his hand. His mother’s knife, presented to him the night he was named a crow, the night he completed his first contract. The first of many contracts.

The blade felt cold. He felt cold. Numb. Standing frozen in the middle of the moonlit road, he knew he was presenting a glorious target to anyone who might be seeking to do him harm and he didn't care.

He had never failed a contract before.

A rustle in the trees, out of sync with the wind, caught his attention. Lucanis rolled to the side, catching a glimpse of a figure dropping to the ground. Black cloak. Glint of a knife. 

Silver gilded hood, tapered in the shape of a pointed crow’s beak.

Lucanis crouched, dagger at the ready to throw and - froze. 

Just a breath. A heartbeat. Enough time for a single blasphemous thought: what does it matter? Caterina is going to kill me anyway.

“You let her go,” the figure said softly. Antivan. Older male. Strands of light colored hair escaping the shadowed hood. “A bold choice.” Slowly, the man sheathed his blade and held out his empty hands. “Is this your first time?”

Lucanis swallowed around his pounding heartbeat. He did not put away his knife. “What?”

“Breaking a contract. Going against your grandmother. It is, isn't it? I'd heard your cousin was intractable, but you?” The man tisked softly. “The perfect crow.”

Lucanis stood slowly, keeping his feet set to pounce in whatever direction necessary. “Who are you?”

“Someone who knew your mother. And someone who hunts crows.” The man bowed, the motion exaggerated like he was center stage at the opera. “I was near inconsolable, seeing it was you who took up the contract on that poor girl. Isotta's little boy, all grown up and hunting an innocent. It would have broken my heart to kill you.”

Lucanis tightened his grip on his blade. “I would like to see you try.”

“Ah,” the man literally wagged his finger at Lucanis. He could hear the laughter in his voice. “No need for that. We are standing here having a lovely conversation, yes? As I said, it would have made me sad to kill you. But now I do not have to.”

“Because I let the mark go?”

“Yes. Shows me there is a heart under that perfectly chiseled chest. But now I have to wonder - is there a brain somewhere behind those marvelous cheekbones?”

Lucanis circled to the side, keeping his eye on the other man. A crow killer. He was pretty sure he knew exactly who he was dealing with. “And why would the Black Shadow care, former Master Arainai?”

The other man did not change his stance as Lucanis moved, just turned to keep the other assassin in his eyeline. He did tilt his head slightly to the side - amusement, or intentionally putting on a casual air. “Very good. I am glad to see your grandmother hasn't kept you completely in the dark. I care because if you are one of the good ones - insofar as there are any in Antiva’s fancy pit of vipers - I would rather you not end up dangling on a rope outside your family’s villa. Why did you let the girl go?”

Lucanis frowned, considering his options. The Shadow could have killed him cleanly without making himself heard. He had been trained to trust nothing and he didn't trust this, but so far it seemed prudent to play along…though he wasn't sure he could answer the question. 

His target - Camilla, no known family name - had obviously been injured. Recently. Not so recently. A constellation of bruising and partially healed hurts. She hadn’t moved like a fugitive or a killer. More like a skittish mouse, desperately hoping to avoid the housekeeper’s broom. That and the rumors Lucanis had encountered about her victim - Signore Piastri, who purchased a spot on the King's council with money made in ruby mines to the south - had been enough to give him pause. To abandon his hiding place and his plan and confront the young lady directly.

“It - wasn't right,” he settled on.

“So the stories about your gift for gab are accurate,” the other man said dryly, crossing his arms. “Some advice, little Luca, when you report to your First Talon? Give her a little more than ‘it wasn't right.’ “

“She won't care.” She wouldn't. Lucanis knew that. Caterina had painstakingly beaten that knowledge into him years ago. “I failed a contract. She will not want to hear excuses.”

“So tell her something she will care to hear, Young Master Dellamorte. Born and bred crow royalty. Justifying murder is your birthright. Surely, you can find justification for mercy too.”

Lucanis looked to the side. The man was crazy. And dangerous.

But he had a point. And there was one angle that might save him. “It was a bad contract.”

The man waved his hand forward, entreating Lucanis to continue.

“The clients lied about the situation,” Lucanis said slowly. Shifting through his memories of lessons on the finer points of contracts, of watching the house negotiators and solicitors arguing with potential clients. The errata of business often overlooked by the drama of what their business entailed but which was as much a part of his training as bladework and stealth. “If they knowingly lied, they negated the contract. Signed it in bad faith. Fulfilling it is beneath the dignity of our house.” It almost sounded convincing, at least enough so that he felt a little less like a dead man walking.

The Black Shadow nodded. “Smart and beautiful after all. Maybe you will survive this.” Then he turned, bafflingly putting his back to Lucanis, idly lifting a hand over his head in farewell. “Give my regards to grandmother Talon. Or don’t. Caterina and I have an understanding - I mostly deal with the rubbish she wants gone anyway - but I doubt she’ll appreciate us crossing paths.”

Lucanis shifted his weight. He should do - something. But the numb frozen heart pounding echoes of breaking a contract - of breaking his training - still permeated every inch of him, even with a tentative plan to argue for his continued existence. 

It was going to be a long trip back to Treviso.

Davrin: Lucanis, did you ever change your mind about an assassination? Spare a target? Lucanis: From time to time. Once, a target had killed an important politician and went on the run. The family wanted retribution. I let her live. Davrin: Why? Lucanis: She was a servant. The politician had been beating her. So the servant returned the favor. Davrin: Self defense. Lucanis: Anyone would have done the same.

Thank you @datvcompanionweeks for hosting 💜 Amazing Lucanis border by @gutz-ingellvar 💜 Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6

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Lucanis Appreciation Week Day 6: Forgiveness/Vengeance

A Murder of Crows - Victorious

This is one of my favorite shots in the game for Lucanis. Illario is defeated, bleeding in front of him. At this moment, the plan 'involving knives' needs its conclusion. Forgive? Take revenge?

The lighting casts his face perfectly - light and shadow. Alone.

It's not the best screenshot I've taken, but I come back to this moment a lot when I think about his character.

[davrinsleftpectoral]

[day 1] [day 2] [day 3] [day 4] [day 5] [day 6]

Day 7 Free Day: Pizza Party with Friends

These pieces all take place in my ongoing AU long fic, Welcome to Nug E Cheese. The veilguard gang are service workers in a Chuck E. Cheese style restaurant, and Lucanis is the new guy.

Thank you @datvcompanionweeks for hosting another fun event. 1.5k words under the cut.

==

Sunday evening

Lucanis watched Harding leave the break room to go join the others in closing the store and cleaning up before Rook's pizza party. He knew he'd need to go join them before long, but he needed a minute to process everything Harding had told him.

Lucanis knew that he was having trouble fitting in with the crew at Nug E Cheese, but he didn't realize he'd been doing so poorly that he was giving off serial killer vibes. That was certainly not his intention. He sighed. Thank goodness for Rook, the one person that could see past his awkwardness and instead see something worthwhile.

This second week had gone better than the first. He thought he was helping them all out when he called Solas and told him that it wasn't fair that this was the only store that wasn't provided with headsets. And the headsets did help improve efficiency, but they did come with the downside of being used for fun as well. As much of a headache as it gave him, he couldn't truly begrudge Rook for enjoying them.

Then there was the new Wyvern 952. Neve had convinced him not to get rid of Old Joe. And while she complained that the new machine was far too complicated, he had heard her sigh of contentment as she tried the cup he brewed for her. Maybe he could convince Rook to let him be the one making coffee for everyone. He didn't want to step on his toes regarding Neve, he wasn't interested in their boss like that anyway. But he loved making food and drinks that other people could enjoy. And despite its many buttons and functions, it was still faster to make coffee with the Wyvern, than to do the entire ritual to get coffee from Old Joe.

Of course Illario would manage to come into the store before Lucanis had gotten truly settled. Fucking Illario. He really did want to kill his cousin sometimes, and honestly might take advantage of the opportunity should it arise. But Harding didn't need to know that. Besides, that was a feeling reserved entirely for Illario only.

If nothing else, getting to sit down with Harding helped him see areas that he needed to improve in. So to get started on that, he went back out to the front.

==

Lucanis walked into the front and as soon as Rook spotted him, Rook burst into a big grin.

"Lucanis! Harding told me that you're going to stay for the pizza party!" 

Lucanis gave him a small half smile. "Yes, she convinced me," he said. "How can I help? What's left to be done?"

"I'm going to go grab the vacuum, if you want to wipe down all the tables," said Rook. Lucanis nodded and went to get to work.

Rook was playin kidz bop through the store speakers and Lucanis was happily zoned out, lost in the ease of a repetitive job. He was nearly finished with the final row of tables, the ones lining the windows at the very front of the store, when a loud banging on the door broke him out of his trance.

"Mierda, who is that?" He asked, watching an elf with short purple curly hair plaster her face against the glass of the front door, making silly faces and quite a mess.

Rook laughed as he vaulted himself over the front counter and was at the front door in two bounds. "They're my friends," he said, letting in the elf and a handful of other people that Lucanis didn't recognize. Rook was laughing and hugging and kissing his friends on the cheek as he guided them inside, towards Lucanis. Rook enthusiastically introduced them all to Lucanis, and he did his best to greet them and remember their names, though he was so overwhelmed, he didn't remember any of them.

Throughout the evening Lucanis did his best to stay on the fringes of the party. Leaning on the wall. Sitting in the corner. Offering to take things to and from the kitchen, and then making excuses to stay in the back longer than truly necessary. If he stayed in one of his hiding spots for too long, Rook always came to find him and pull him back towards the center. 

Bellara finally convinced him to play Hightown Heist, and no one was able to beat him. Harding brought over a plate of her ghost pepper sugar cookies to congratulate him on his wins. Harding chatted about her Ma and life back on the farm. When she asked Lucanis questions about his family, he did his best to answer them as vaguely as possible. Being friends was one thing, he wasn't ready to be quite so intimate with everyone. Not yet. 

Someone started up a karaoke machine, with much cheering from the small crowd. After a few songs had been sung, there was Rook again, an arm around Lucanis shoulders. He was trying his hardest to convince Lucanis to pick a song to sing. Lucanis looked over at Harding, who was smiling and nodding encouragingly. An idea formed in his head, and he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up ever so slightly. He nodded his concession to Rook and went up to choose a song next.

He got on the mic before the opening bars of the music started and said, "This song is dedicated my friend Harding," She gave him a quizzical look and he just nodded at her.

The music started up for Pumped up Kicks by Foster the People. Lucanis let himself bob along with the music a little as he sang the opening verse. He made sure to stand perfectly still and made eye contact with Harding when he got to the chorus.

"All the other kids with the pumped-up kicks, You better run, better run, outrun my gun."

He watched as Harding's eyes grew round and she sat still getting more pale as she listened to the lyrics. When the song was over he couldn't stop the laugh that he barked into the microphone. 

He walked over to Harding and put his hand on her shoulder and chuckled as he said, "Relax Harding, I'm just messing with you. I knew that song would freak you out." Taash laughed and Harding elbowed her partner in the side even as she also started to smile.

Lucanis pulled out his phone and realized that the time had gotten away from him. He excused himself from Taash and Harding and they both wished him a goodnight. He made sure to find Rook and say goodbye and apologized for not being able to stay and help clean. He was already late. He sent a quick text from his phone and hoped the car would arrive quickly.

He grabbed his bag and went out back behind the store to wait. He stopped in his tracks when he saw a car already sitting there for him. He was surprised but put on a neutral face and steeled himself as got into the car.

He slid into the back seat and shut the door. The driver pulled out into traffic and started down the road. Lucanis waited a few moments before he turned his head to look over at the person that was on the other side of the bench seat.

"Caterina," he said.

"Lucanis. You missed our dinner," the elderly woman said.

"I'm sorry, I lost track of time."

"You lost track of time. This is a regular family dinner, Lucanis." He didn't say anything, just held her gaze as she looked at him disapprovingly.

"Well. At least you're here now. You can give me your report, how are things going at the Nug E Cheese?" she asked.

He turned his head then, and stared out the window. This part used to be easier, he thought it would continue to be so. But that was before the others had called him a friend. Only years of practice kept him from fidgeting with his bag as he passed on information to her. She gave a shallow nod to let him know she was listening, and that she approved of his work.

"Good, good. Seems to be going well. Keep an eye on them, Lucanis. And remember our deal. I'll talk to you next week at dinner," she said, as the car pulled to a stop. The driver opened Caterina's door and offered her a hand that she ignored as she got out. The door closed and a few moments later the car was moving again.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the window. releasing a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. 

It had only been two weeks, but things were different now. He wasn't sure how he'd keep this up and fulfill his end of the bargain now. How had they all made him care so quickly? Between Catarina's demands, Illario and Spite's heckling, and the care of his new friends, he wasn't sure how he was going to be able to successfully balance it all. Tonight he would go home and try to sleep. He'd figure out what to do tomorrow.

[davrinsleftpectoral]

Lucanis Week 2025: Day 7

As I did for the other companions, I hand carded and spun some rolags for Lucanis.

Lucanis' mix consists of different kinds of Merino prep (top, cloud, and combed) with silk fluff and a bit of Angelina sparkle for Spite. I originally wanted to add something "tougher" to the mix to represent the Crows' sometimes unscrupulous ways but I couldn't for my life figure out how to do that without compromising on the smoothness of the finished yarn. So- Lucanis is very soft, which does suit him, too.

Colour-wise, I went with "classic" Antivan Crow colours of deep purples, midnight blue, and just a hint of black for the shadowy corners of Treviso. The sparkle for Spite is, of course, bright magenta, reminiscent of his Fade magic.

I loved working on this mix! There's just something about combining different jewel tones, they'll melt into one another and give juuuust the right amount of depth to keep the eye interested. I'm sure Lucanis would love working with this wool, he could probably make another jumper for himself to wear under his leathers that won't look as scratchy as his in-game undershirt!

As always, thank you so so much to @datvcompanionweeks for organising these events, it's always such a joy to see what everyone creates :)

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In honor of having way too many screen shots, I present this masterpiece. Which Lucanis are you today?

I’m feeling like a 2 today 😂