#Rook: “sorry Bellara; i can't even imagine what this must be like for you and Davrin😢” Davrin: “it's fine. 🤷🏿‍♂️”

[invinciblerodent]

yeah so it's probably a good idea to watch Solas' regrets one by one as you go, not, yknow, forget about them for like 20 hours of gameplay and then watch four in one go, you'll want to shit your whole spine out from the fucking lore drop those are

[datvtranscripts]

Regrets of the Dread Wolf Pt. 5

Fate of the Titans

The Lighthouse Masterpost Previous: A Physical Form

Mythal: Have you created what we need?

Solas: With this, the proper ritual will sunder every Titan from its spirit. But you must know those severed dreams will certainly be driven mad, a disembodied blight of pain and anger. It is awful, what we're doing.

Mythal: And the only way to end this war.

—

The party meets to discuss.

Harding: Solas made the weapon that killed the Titans. No, not killed. He cut away their dreams and left them broken and mindless.

Unknown condition: Harding: He passed me in the halls of Skyhold for a year. He made polite conversation, and he knew. He knew what he did.

Unknown condition: Harding: An entire race, left worse than dead! How could he even look me in the eye? Dwarves don't even know where they come from, because of him. And he knew all along.

Race dependent dialogue:

Dwarf Rook [1]

Non-Dwarf Rook [2]

1 - Dwarf Rook

Stoic: No wonder he feels guilty. [3]

Sad: How could he do this? [4] +Harding Approves

Afraid: That’s terrifying. [5]

Angry: He broke my people. [6] +Harding Approves

3 - Stoic: No wonder he feels guilty. Rook: No mystery why he wants to forget this. Emmrich: As a mage, and apparently a scholar, Solas doubtless regrets destroying the minds of the Titans. [12]

4 - Sad: How could he do this? Rook: What did we do that could ever justify wiping out an entire people? Lucanis: When someone hires an assassin, they don't ask, "is this justified?" They ask, "is this enough?" He considered this the cost of saving his people. Neve: Fear and guilt make people do stupid things. Emmrich: To do such a thing… no wonder regret eats away at Solas. [12]

5 - Afraid: That’s terrifying. Rook: I knew Solas was dangerous. We had to stop him from tearing down the Veil. But to do this… He made a weapon that destroyed an entire race. How could he even think of doing that? Lucanis: The Titans were the size of mountains. I doubt the elves were winning their fight. He considered this the cost of saving his people. Neve: Fear and guilt make people do stupid things. Emmrich: To do such a thing… no wonder regret eats away at Solas. [12]

6 - Angry: He broke my people. Rook: He spent so much time talking about how sad he was for what he'd done to the elves. They'd lost their immortality because of him. They'd lost their empire because of him. My people can't dream. Nobody but Harding even knows what it's like. He took that from us. From me. Bellara: I'm sorry. Harding: You didn't do it. Bellara: Our leaders attacked the Titans for their lyrium. Then when the war turned against the elves, our leaders did this. Harding: And when the war was over, they enslaved your ancestors. No. Solas, Mythal, and Elgar'nan are the ones who need to apologize. Emmrich: To do such a thing… no wonder regret eats away at Solas. [12]

2 - Non-Dwarf Rook

Dialogue options:

Stoic: No wonder he feels guilty. [7]

Sad: I’m sorry, Harding. [8] +Harding Approves +Taash Approves

Afraid: How could he do that? [9]

Angry: How like him. [10]

Elf Rook: I’m sorry for my people.

7 - Stoic: No wonder he feels guilty. Rook: No mystery why he wants to forget this. Emmrich: As a mage, and apparently a scholar, Solas doubtless regrets destroying the minds of the Titans. [12]

8 - Sad: I’m sorry, Harding. Rook: I don't know what to say, Lace. I can't even imagine. I'm so sorry. Harding: I served in the Inquisition. I know terrible things happen in war. But to do something like this… Lucanis: The Titans were the size of mountains. I doubt the elves were winning their fight. He considered this the cost of saving his people. Neve: Fear and guilt make people do stupid things. Emmrich: To do such a thing… no wonder regret eats away at Solas. [12]

9 - Afraid: How could he do that? Rook: I knew Solas was dangerous. We had to stop him from tearing down the Veil. But to do this… He made a weapon that destroyed an entire race. How could he even think of doing that? Lucanis: The Titans were the size of mountains. I doubt the elves were winning their fight. He considered this the cost of saving his people. Neve: Fear and guilt make people do stupid things. Emmrich: To do such a thing… no wonder regret eats away at Solas. [12]

10 - Angry: How like him. Rook: That's what Solas does, isn't it? He sees a problem, and he thinks of a solution that has huge, horrible knock-on effects. And then he does it anyway, because there's no way anyone else could come up with something better! And it's okay that he did incalculable damage to the world, because he's really sad, you see? Emmrich: To do such a thing… no wonder regret eats away at Solas. [12]

11 - Elf: I’m sorry for my people. Rook: Lace, what my people did to yours… That's unforgivable. Harding: You don't need to apologize. Rook: Well, someone should. Bellara: Our leaders attacked the Titans for their lyrium. Then when the war turned against the elves, our leaders did this. Harding: And when the war was over, they enslaved your ancestors. No. Solas, Mythal, and Elgar'nan are the ones who need to apologize. Emmrich: To do such a thing… no wonder regret eats away at Solas. [12]

12 - Scene continues.

Davrin: No. It's worse than that. That isn't what Solas regrets. "Those severed dreams will be driven mad. A disembodied blight of pain and anger."

Lucanis: Mierda.

Bellara: You can't… that's not possible.

Davrin: When a Warden hears the Calling, it's like a song in their mind. Sound familiar to you, Lace?

Harding: The song of lyrium. Of the Titans.

Davrin: We think of the blight as this monstrous force, with no mercy, no compassion. Evil incarnate. Instead, it's a caged animal, mistreated and imprisoned for centuries, until all it knows is fear.

Dialogue options:

What about the darkspawn? [13]

Can we fix the blight? [14] +Emmrich Approves +Harding Approves

Solas is a hypocrite. [15] +Taash Approves

Dwarf Grey Warden: I’ve been fighting… me? [16]

13 - What about the darkspawn? Rook: What does this mean for darkspawn? Should we be trying to help them? Emmrich: I don't believe so. If the blight is a corrupted dream, darkspawn may be mindless manifestations of its anger. Davrin: Right. They're not people. We're never going to get through to them. Lucanis: The Titans are a problem for later. We have Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain to deal with now. Harding: And then I want Solas to look me in the eye and answer for what he did. [17]

14 - Can we fix the blight? Rook: If the blight is the Titan's dreams, can we… I don't know. Heal it? Bring it back from all that anger? Emmrich: I'm afraid I've no idea. In theory, it would be possible to restore dreams to the Titans… Davrin: You can't set it free before it's healed. You'd have blighted Titans laying waste to the entire world. Lucanis: The Titans are a problem for later. We have Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain to deal with now. Harding: And then I want Solas to look me in the eye and answer for what he did. [17]

15 - Solas is a hypocrite. Rook: In all my talks with him, Solas hates the blight more than anything. Even more than Elgar'nan. But it wasn't hatred. It was guilt. He knew this could happen, and he still didn't stand up to Mythal and stop it. [17]

16 - Dwarf Grey Warden: I’ve been fighting… me? Rook: All these years fighting darkspawn in the Grey Wardens, and I've been fighting my own dreams. Emmrich: I don't believe so. If the blight is a corrupted dream, darkspawn may be mindless manifestations of its anger. Davrin: Right. They're not people. We're never going to get through to them. Lucanis: The Titans are a problem for later. We have Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain to deal with now. Harding: And then I want Solas to look me in the eye and answer for what he did. [17]

17 - Scene continues.

Neve: Each of these memories has been a deeper regret. And almost all of them involve Mythal.

Rook: Only one mural left to uncover, by my count. If we find it, we'll see what's worse than this.

Next: Old Friend

[virshiral]

Your prompt list is so cool! What about "and the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams" for Neve or Irelin paired with anyone you like?

Ooh, I love this song! Thank you for the prompt!

@dadrunkwriting

---

Ever since word came, Irelin has been moving in a kind of trace. It was just a letter from the Lighthouse, which makes it easier for her to imagine that this isn't real. Bellara is gone. Bellara is gone. So the letter said, and she won't let herself believe it, but some small treacherous part of her does.

Irelin can't even remember why they broke up anymore. It all seems irrelevant in the face of this terrifying, shattering loss. Bellara is gone. Irelin should never have let her go. They should have been safe together, somewhere far from here, hidden away in the secret corners of Irelin's heart.

When they arrive at the safehouse in Minrathous, Rook puts a hand on her arm; takes her aside. 'We found Bellara,' they say, and then – before Irelin's heart even has the chance to finish leaping – Rook adds, 'Irelin – I have to warn you.'

She trembles; her skin alive, prickling with tenderness and fear.

'She's Blighted,' Rook says, and Irelin gasps into the silence, raising a hand to clutch uselessly at her chest.

'You should go to her,' Rook says, and Irelin practically trips over her own feet in her haste to make her way past Rook and into the next room.

'Bellara,' she says.

Bellara looks back at her. Still that same beloved face, under the putrefying veins. The same beloved eyes, despite the sunken redness.

'Irelin,' she says, and her voice is so small and sad.

'Oh,' Irelin says. 'Oh, love,' and then she's enfolding Bellara in her arms, holding her as sobs shake through her body. She's so slight and so indomitable. Irelin should have known she would always come back. She needs to believe that Bellara will always come back.

'I'm sorry,' Irelin whispers. 'I'm sorry. It must have been terrible.'

'No,' Bellara whispers. 'No, it was – darker than what you're imagining. Stranger than my own worst dreams.'

'Bellara,' Irelin says, holding her tighter. 'Oh, emma lath.'

'No,' Bellara says urgently. 'No, you don't understand. I – part of me liked it, Irelin. The power. The – the destructiveness. I – how could I like that? How could I – '

'Shhh,' Irelin says, and she strokes Bellara's hair, watching her own tears glitter as they fall.

'What if the darkness got a hold on me?'

'No,' Irelin says. 'No, love, you're here. I've got you. I've got you.'

Bellara looks up at her. 'But you've been away so long,' she says, her voice wavering.

Irelin feels herself sob; threads her trembling fingers through Bellara's hair. 'I'm here now,' she says. 'You're here too. We're not letting go again.'

[unicyclehippo]

neve has lists upon lists of questions. they're organised, in a fashion - they must be, because rook sees her flipping to different pages to scrawl them down, even when there's a handswidth of room on one of the pages she passes by. so they don't know what the order is. just that she has one.

they are also starting to suspect one of those sections is about them.

or, well, they don't want to make assumptions. perhaps her questions are about the mourn watch. emmrich would be the more appropriate person to ask for any in depth questions on the behaviours of spirits, on necromancy and the secrets of the grave, but for now neve's questions aren't about that.

'and every child in nevarra is housed?'

rook shrugs, nods. 'not just the children but yeah.'

'you have no one living on the streets?'

'not by circumstance, no. there are some people who make that choice but -'

'how is that even possible? it's not a whole country of you, rook - there are nobles and your undead king -'

'the king,' rook says sharply, which was a mistake because rook has taken great pains to never speak sharply around their companions and neve is intrigued, 'is a very normal and alive king.'

neve blinks. then blinks again. a laugh topples out of her, louder when she throws her head back. 'oh dear. someone needs to work on their lies. no, wait - don't run off, rook - oh blast.'

it has a whole basket of delicate, reckless eggs to check on. it can't spend all its time with neve. still, after making the rounds and spending a pleasant quarter hour untangling assan from a curtain in solas's library - the untangling took very little of that time, the rest spent teasing the little griffon with one of the tassled curtain ties - guilt sparks at the top of their skull and drips down their neck and spine like the wax of an everburning candle. it sits cross-legged under the stairs in emmrich's study and pens a few pages of notes.

manfred is beyond thrilled to deliver them for rook.

//

'you wrote in your notes that the necropolis halls are limitless and that's where the children are "stored",' neve says in lieu of good morning. she's leaning against one of the pillars that rings the training arena. not quite the one closest to the door but one that allows her to keep an eye on rook and her exit.

rook catches their shield one-handed as it rockets back to them and beams at the detective.

'good morning.'

neve rolls her eyes. 'is it? hard to tell in a place like this.'

'hard to tell when you haven't slept, i imagine.'

her smirk pulls sharply to one side. 'you're one to talk. if you do sleep, it's never for long.'

'keeping an eye on me? i'm flattered.'

'i hardly need to. the wisps are eager enough to do it for me. maybe i should see if any want to come back to dock town with me. i have been thinking of getting an assistant,' she muses.

rook snorts. when neve frowns at them, they hold up their hands in surrender. 'sorry. i thought that was a joke.'

'and why would it be a joke?'

'you worry enough about me being hurt when we go out. any assistant you hire would have to be swaddled in permanent invulnerability charms or already dead.'

'first of all,' neve flicks a finger out in a stern point, 'someone needs to worry about you. spirits know you don't worry about yourself. and secondly, i think manfred would make a rather excellent assistant.'

'a scribe, maybe, but he couldn't go with you on - what do you call them? missions?'

'jobs.'

'well he couldn't go with you on jobs. his bones make too much noise. he'd alert half of dock town that you were there before you could even make it to the - the hand off or the crime scene.'

neve's mouth folds tight like an accordion like it does when she doesn't want to admit she's found someone funny. rook has noticed it twice in conversations with bellara and many times when manfred follows her around.

'once all this is over, i could be your assistant.' the offer seems to take her by surprise. neve tenses, eyes dark. rook takes a step back, literally, and conversationally. 'or not! just an idea!' but then that makes it sound like they don't want to, which isn't true, so they add, 'it's up to you!'

far above them, a giant chunk of rock sheers across the skin of the fade. its edges drag an aurora behind it - greens and purples, blues and pinks, yellow and red and white throughout like embers or stars. the roof of the training area is a dome of clear glass and rook tilts their head up to watch its passage. an exhausted comet.

when the rock vanishes out of sight, rook looks to neve again. she hasn't moved in the long minute, other than her eyes which are fixed on their neck.

'what did you mean in your writings? when you said that children are stored in the necropolis?'

'is that what i wrote?'

'yes.'

'you're worried about it.'

'just not the way people typically talk about children. but then,' neve's eyes slid over rook, down its bare chest and across its vivisection scars, the neat pair of surgery scars across the body's chest, the march of tattoos that marks its skin. her gaze is assessing. it is used to assessment. from instructors and mentors, from the artist who had used its skin for canvas. it doesn't know yet what she would like them to prove but it hopes she will let it try. 'you did mention you weren't typical.'

'of the mourn watch.'

'typical in other regards, then?'

'i don't know.' rook shrugs. neve's eyes move to their arm, muscles taut. the shield they've been practising with is heavier than their usual. 'i've found that while people fall into patterns that can be predicted, individuals aren't so simple. are there any typical people?'

neve narrows her eyes. 'why ask me?'

'because you have met so many!' rook laughs, moves to the side of the training room to hang up the shield. their vestments are draped across the bench there and they shrug on the familiar linens, a purple like dusk seen through grave-dusted eyes. 'when we visit dock town, it always feels like you know everyone's name and their children's names and all their secrets and gossip. their favourite foods.'

'you make it sound like i'm nosy.'

rook laughs again. 'neve gallus, there are elephants less nosy than you.'

she scoffs. but she follows rook out of the training room, slides into step at their shoulder. it's pleasant. for rook, at least, but their steps stutter when they think how lonely it is to walk with only one other.

'don't worry. i'm not about to stick a knife in your back.'

'you're welcome to,' rook shrugs. 'but that's not what i was thinking about.'

neve leans close, curiosity lamp-lit in her eyes. 'we'll circle back to the knife thing, certainly, but do tell.'

rook scratches the back of its neck. its skin crawls under her attention. there's another scar there - it doesn't remember what from.

it leads the way up the stairs, knocking its hand against the stone. solid - solid - solid - ah. less solid. it knew there was a breach somewhere here. it had been drafty these past few days. it made a note to tell bellara. maybe she could do something about sealing up the gaps. or maybe there was something to be found in the music room.

when they come to the clutter of chairs in the central room, rook gestures to the couch where neve prefers to sit and waits for her before they sit on the armchair across.

'before all of this,' they say, waving a hand at the lighthouse, 'i was a captain. i led a band of twelve. i was thinking about them.'

'you miss them.'

'yes.'

'how long has it been?'

rook thinks hard. 'perhaps...eight years?'

'so when you say before all this,' she mimics them, with a lazy flick of her hand, 'you're skipping over rather a few juicy details. i know you travelled with varric for some of that. what about the rest?'

she's on the hunt for something. rook doesn't know what, only knows the feeling of being chased, dogs after its bones. it thinks about its head breaking the surface of the world, the first gasp of air outside of nevarra, and how cold it had felt for the first time without the shroud of the grave around its shoulders. and after...

'i thought you wanted to know about the necropolis.'

it's a poor deflection. for some reason, neve looks deeply satisfied by it. she sits back and shrugs.

'sure. tell me about the children.'

'the halls of the necropolis are limitless, ever expanding to house the spirits of the dead and those dedicated to it. when a child in nevarra has no where else to go, it is brought to the halls, purified, and given a purpose. the mourn watch care for them and when they come of age, they either dedicate themselves to the watch, or to further learning in the arts, or they may leave.'

'they can't stay if they don't want to be in the mourn watch?'

'of course they can. there are plenty of souls who remain. gardeners, weavers, stewards of the halls.'

'souls? they are still...alive, though?'

rook frowns at her. 'if you are uncomfortable with speaking about the necropolis -'

'i'm not uncomfortable,' she lies. 'i'm just trying to get my information straight. when you say souls...' neve gestures for rook to speak.

'there is rarely a need to distinguish between the two. but yes, souls in living bodies.'

'is yours?' neve asks. her eyes widen a touch in alarm. obviously she hadn't intended to ask.

'alive? yes.'

'you rarely eat. you rarely sleep. the way you fight is...' her eyes flicker, magelight and memories. 'frightening. reckless. and yet you never use the healing quarters. and the wisps flock to you. they adore you. almost as if they can hear you more than the rest of us. i think the question is warranted.'

rook shrugs. 'it is. i understand.'

'you're not offended?'

'why would i be?' neve still looks unsure. it tries again. 'i have spent my whole life in service to the dead. that is not some gruesome fate awaiting me - it is the welcoming halls of my home, where i will wait to be summoned to defend it again.'

'there is a big difference between serving the dead and being one yourself.'

rook shrugs, nods. they think the difference is probably smaller than most people thing - the difference between most things is, comparison folding them close until they are separated only by thought.

'do you want to be dead?' neve asks.

'not yet.'

'but someday?'

'of course. that's the way of all things.'

'and you're not scared of it, clearly.'

'no.'

'are you scared of anything?'

rook watches neve as they think. her fingers slip across the velvet of the couch. her hair is braided, a coil pinned to the side of her head where her hat usually sits at its jaunty angle. there's a scar on her brow, one she wouldn't have if rook hadn't asked her to help. she came closer to dying from that injury than she knows, rook thinks. it's just a suspicion but the wisps love her too.

'i'm scared of the blight,' rook admits. 'i'm scared of anything that would take me from myself.'

'but not death.'

'my death will be mine. but the blight would take my life from me.'

neve's fingers swirl against the velvet, leaving the pattern of her thoughtful musing in her wake. rook brushes their fingers against the fabric of their armchair. it's not as soft as velvet. the weave is thicker, gritter, rasping against the skin of their fingers and sending a tickle up their nerves all the way up to their aching shoulder where it finally fades.

'i'm scared that the fate of all our worlds rests on me and the decisions i make. i'm scared i'll make the wrong ones. i'm scared that we are coming up against a moment where every choice is going to be wrong and i will have to make one anyway.'

she listens to them closely. but when rook is silent, she shakes her head. 'you can't be that scared of all that. there's got to be something that frightens you so badly you can't even say it.' when rook tenses, her assessment sharpens. knife-edged, frost-edged. 'sorry rook,' she says, in lieu of prying this time. 'i'll figure it out one day. you know i love secrets.'

Implode

this is from forever ago & certainly intended for a different fandom so forgive me for using it literally 18 months later but i just finished veilguard & i don’t have many thoughts about it but i am deeply attached to my rook so. i write

//

the kitchen lists on one side.

there’s a hole in the floor beneath a heavy wooden cabinet and anything they place on the bottom two shelves … the only word for it that rook can think is glitches. the materiality of the wooden shelves becomes one and the same with the air of the Fade and rook looks on with mixed fascination and disappointment as the little tart oranges it had wanted to snack on vanish into the space beneath.

it had wanted to take them to neve. place an arrangement of them on her desk because it knows she isn’t eating; neve is, they’ve come to learn in the last few days, tenacious and keen. that seems to mean she gets lost in alleys of her mind. if rook had to guess, that mind looks an awful lot like minrathous—a world populated by trickeries and deceptions, rumoured murder and mayhem, and the very occasional good deed. and quite beautiful, if one likes snakes.

rook does.

‘ah. it seems that the kitchen is not as well fortified as i had hoped. a pity. i was looking forward to having one of those oranges.’ lucanis has a ragged edge to his voice, a rasp like a whetstone, a rasp like a man who has screamed for an entire year. the demon he carries accompanied him with the scent of blood and salt. it is nice to be around him.

rook grins up at him from their crouch. they’ve been testing the integrity of the other shelves with paper and rocks and other little things they’ve found around the place. (if anyone asks, they intend to blame the lack of tiny little spoons on the wisps. always taking things. so curious!)

‘don’t give up hope so soon. it’s got less holes in it than davrin’s quarters.’

‘the man has an entire wall open to the fade.’ lucanis shudders. ‘i do not understand how he sleeps.’

‘with a griffon pinning him to the bed.’

a tiny smile cuts across his face as he chuckles. ‘that would make anyone feel safe. from the fade, anyway. but i would still be worried about the talons.’

rook snorts. assan seems like a good cub. maybe. actually, it doesn’t know. it hasn’t been around many creatures before.

‘i think harding took some of the oranges,’ it offers. ‘come with me? maybe we can persuade her to part with some.’

‘oh no,’ he denies. ‘no, i wouldn’t dare to part her from her prize. but thank you for the offer.’

the stench of salt pours from him. the air shimmers around his shoulders. rook eyes him carefully—sees his eyes skim sideways, the tension in his jaw as he keeps it tightly closed—and smiles.

‘alright,’ it shrugs. ‘if anyone comes with more ingredients, tell them to avoid the lower shelves?’

‘i will.’

for a moment, rook thinks about telling him about the necropolis. about the ever drifting room, and the walls that reek of dense packed salt and steel, and the beds of flowers and herbs where the dead rest in coffin halls, and about the spirits that wander there. but leaving nevarra has taught it that the living do not care to be reminded of the dead, and what rook means as a kindness may be taken as threat. the halls eagerly await lucanis and spite…but rook doesn’t have to tell him that just yet.

instead, they jog across the courtyard to harding’s room. it’s just starting to bloom. she’s got her fingers trailing through the well and she hardly stirs when it pops their head in and asks for some of the oranges she hid away. it leaves with a fine bounty—three oranges, their skins tight and bursting with ripe scent—and returns to the kitchen. lucanis has retreated to his cell of a room. rook knocks and throws one of the oranges to him and doesn’t wait around.

//

‘yes, yes, i’ve been very naughty,’ neve agrees, head in a book. ‘it won’t ever happen again and i’ll never neglect cooking duties again.’

‘i’m not here to scold you.’ rook laughs when she glances up. the look she pours over them is like oil, a clinging suspicion. ‘i thought you might be hungry, that’s all. we found an orange tree in arlathan. have you had oranges before?’

neve quirks a brow. ‘once or twice,’ she drawls.

‘really?’

she stares at them hard. eventually, she must take their wide eyed look as genuine because she smiles more genuinely and shrugs.

‘minrathous is a city of many things. including trade. oranges…’ she finally plucks the offering from where rook had set it on the corner of her desk. turns it between her fingers. ‘favoured among the seafaring folk, so they are sold often on the docks. and i once had a dinner with a magister where they served the most exquisite duck in orange sauce. of course, their chef was suspected of poisoning three high mages so i couldn’t eat it but even so…i was tempted.’

rook doesn’t eat much. they never have. but there’s something so inviting, a hunger that crawls across neve’s face, that their stomach rumbles and their mouth waters in sympathy.

‘we’ll have to find a recipe. see if we can make it.’

‘our time is better spent on other endeavours, don’t you think?’

rooks known her for a little less than a week. it’s not the right time to tell her they’d happily waste hours learning how to cook for her.

‘we still have to eat while we’re on this journey,’ is what they end up saying. ‘it’s important. to keep up your strength, keep your mind focused.’ rook looks pointedly at the orange she’s still holding and not eating.

‘look who’s talking. i could cut myself on those cheekbones. you could do with a hearty meal or two.’

rook makes the second orange appear from their sleeve with a flourish and sets it on neve’s table, where they’d put the first. ‘there’s a small hole into the fade in the kitchen, by the way. the degenerative effect extends to the bottom two shelves of the cabinet.’

‘oh?’ neve seems fascinated by that, as rook thought she would be. her eyes drift to the door and back to her papers, likely calculating how much time she’s willing to set aside for curiosity, before her attention returns to rook. ‘are they rare in nevarra?’

‘tears into the fade? not at all. when there’s any great collection or consumption of spirits, the thinning of the veil is—��

‘oranges, i meant.’

‘oh. yes.’

neve nudges the second one back toward rook. she stands and moves around her desk, brushes close to them, though there is plenty of room to walk around. the scaled sleeve of her coat slides against rooks arm, where they’ve rolled the sleeves of their burial vestments up to the elbow.

‘come on. we can sit on the edge and share one. you can tell me all about the thinning of the veil.’

rook follows her. first, because it’s hopeless not to. she has a draw, a drag like gravity, endless sparking thoughts a magnet for her curious wisps. second, because it feels wrong to stand in someone’s room when they’re not in it. it goes doubly so for neve, whose work lines the walls.

‘you know enough about the veil, don’t you? as a mage.’

‘i know a fair bit. but im a firm believer that we can always learn more—and i confess, i’ve never spoke to the mourn watch before. are you quite typical of your kind?’

rook closed the door to her office carefully and follows her to the ledge. they drop down, dangling their legs over the edge.

‘no.’

they slice their orange neatly into two. then quarters, then eighths. neve hasn’t begun to slice hers so they offer her a piece. juice drips down their fingers, their wrist. she takes it. rook takes a handkerchief from their pocket and wipes it away.

neve shakes her head. ‘you would have been robbed five times already if we were in dock town. they’d eat you alive.’

‘why?’

‘you’ve got a sweet face.’

‘you just said my cheekbones were—‘

‘no, no. i mean sweet. as in, nice. as in, the kind of person a dock towner would see as a mark.’

rook offers her another of the segments, feeding her four like this, keeping her chatting about dock town, before she realises—or asks, at least—that they haven’t eaten any.

‘it’s not entirely necessary for me,’ rook tells her. they have a lot of scars that would make it plain what they mean but it feels odd to do it so they only hook a finger around their collar and tug it low so she can see the scars across their neck. ‘this one is from my vivisection.’

‘how interesting,’ she says politely. ‘and the other?’

‘i don’t recall.’

[datvtranscripts]

Regrets of the Dread Wolf Pt. 4

A Physical Form

The Lighthouse Masterpost Previous: Creating the Veil

Mythal: You have so long observed the world. Why not consider joining it?

Solas: But I have no desire to live as humans. I have the Fade. Besides, this talk of taking on a solid form… I think you underestimate the danger.

Solas: When you took the glowing stone to build your body, did the earth not shake? The lyrium gives us the strength we had when we were of the Fade. We are the best of physical and spirit. I need your wisdom, Solas, to withstand the louder voices who would go too far, like Elgar'nan. I need you.

Solas: This is madness. You must know that. (Sighs) I will always follow where you go.

—

The party meets to discuss.

Bellara: What?

Emmrich: This is astounding! The ancient elves were spirits who voluntarily manifested a physical form!

Davrin: I'd rather go back to talking about the blight.

Taash: Hey. Lucanis. Could Spite turn into an elf?

Lucanis: No.

Bellara: Sorry, but. What?

Race dependent dialogue:

Elf Rook [1]

Non-Elf Rook [2]

1 - Elf Rook

Affable: This is actually great. [3] +Emmrich Approves

Sarcastic: I guess our secret’s out. [4] +Harding Approves

Stoic: I’m not a spirit. [5] +Davrin Approves

Afraid: Am I a spirit? [6] +Bellara Approves

3 - Affable: This is actually great. Rook: As world-shaking revelations go, finding out we came from spirits is kind of fun. Davrin: Really. Bellara: Actually, a whole lot of things make more sense now. Like, why some magic works differently for elves than everyone else. Rook: And we wouldn't have that magic if not for this. [11]

4 - Sarcastic: I guess our secret’s out. Rook: We hid the truth for as long as we could, but yes, Bellara, Davrin, and I have secretly been spirits this whole time. Davrin: Not funny. Lucanis: I don't know. Sounds like something a rage demon would say. Davrin: You're going to confuse Taash. Taash: What? I wasn't listening. There weren't any dragons in this one. [7]

5 - Stoic: I’m not a spirit. Rook: Okay, no. This whole spirit thing is stupid, and I vote we ignore it. Davrin: Seconded. [7]

6 - Afraid: Am I a spirit? Rook: This is… I just… are all elves spirits somehow? Am I a spirit? [7]

7 - Scene continues.

Emmrich: To be clear, this memory only shows that the first elves originated from spirits. You three are no more spirits than anyone else conceived naturally.

Davrin: Conceived naturally? Guess I'll go ask my mother. [11]

2 - Non-elf Rook:

Affable: This is interesting! [8] +Bellara Approves. +Emmrich Approves.

Stoic: Okay. Is that useful? [9] +Lucanis Approves

Sad: I’m with you, Bellara. [10] +Bellara Approves +Taash Approves

8 - Affable: This is interesting! Rook: This puts all of elven history in a new light, not to mention what we think about spirits. Bellara: I mean, some magic works differently for elves. If we came from spirits? That'd explain it. [11]

9 - Stoic: Okay. Is that useful? Rook: All right. So elves are sort of spirits. What do we do with that? Emmrich: To be clear, this memory only shows that the first elves originated from spirits. Bellara, you and Davrin are no more spirits than anyone else conceived naturally. Davrin: Conceived naturally? Guess I'll go ask my mother. [11]

10 - Sad: I’m with you, Bellara. Rook: This is… I don't even know what this is. And I'm not even an elf. I can't imagine what you and Davrin must be feeling. Davrin: It's fine. Bellara: We're spirits! What does this even mean? Could I accidentally banish myself? Emmrich: To be clear, this memory only shows that the first elves originated from spirits. Bellara, you and Davrin are no more spirits than anyone else conceived naturally. Davrin: Conceived naturally? Guess I'll go ask my mother. [11]

11 - Scene continues.

Emmrich: The knowledge that an entire people were formed from a mass manifestation could change our entire understanding of magic.

Davrin: If we let it out. Is that the right call? Do you want bigoted humans yelling about how elves are demons?

Neve: Davrin's got a point. World's not short on small-minded humans.

Dialogue options:

Affable: I don’t want to cause harm. [12] +Bellara Approves +Davrin Approves

Sarcastic: Nobody would buy it. [13]

Stoic: People have bigger worries. [14]

12 - Affable: I don’t want to cause harm. Rook: If the world learned about this, and it led to attacks against elves… Harding: Elves have enough trouble as it is down in Ferelden. [15]

13 - Sarcastic: Nobody would buy it. Rook: The entire idea is preposterous. Who would even believe us? Emmrich: It does seem outlandish when taken out of context, I admit. [15]

14 - Stoic: People have bigger worries. Rook: I don't think people will care right now. We've got evil gods trying to destroy the world. Davrin: Evil elven blighted gods. Don't forget. [15]

15 - Scene continues.

Bellara: We have to tell someone, though. Strife and Irelin, at least.

Lucanis: If I told Teia and Viago, they'd think I was sampling Viago's poison collection. No one will believe us.

Rook: Okay. We keep this to people we trust who have good reason to know. No shouting it from the rooftops.

Emmrich: Agreed. The Mourn Watch has a great deal of experience keeping dangerous secrets.

Rook: So beyond the world-shaking stuff, what else did we learn here? Solas himself was a spirit.

Taash: What kind do you think he was?

Bellara: Well, his name is elven for pride.

Taash: Oh. Okay.

Harding: There's something else. Not about spirits. Or not all about them, at least. Solas didn't want to become a person, with a physical body.

Neve: Right. He only agreed after Mythal begged him.

Lucanis: Then that's his regret? He wishes he'd never taken physical form?

Harding: Maybe, but not just that. Solas was scared. They built their bodies out of lyrium, and it made the ground shake.

Dialogue options:

Stoic: This started the war. [16]

Sad: They hurt the Titans. [17] +Harding Approves

Angry: Those idiots. [18] +Harding Approves

16 - Stoic: This started the war. Rook: You think the ground shaking was the Titans? Harding: It makes sense, doesn't it? Something was hurting them, taking their blood… Neve: So they struck back. Like we'd swat a stinging bug. [19]

17 - Sad: They hurt the Titans.

Dwarf Rook: Lyrium is the blood of the Titans. Our blood.

Non-dwarf Rook: Lyrium is the blood of the Titans.

Harding: The Titans would have felt it as an attack. They defended themselves. [19]

18 - Angry: Those idiots.

Dwarf Rook: Rook: They took the blood of the Titans—our blood—and didn't even notice. Neve: Or didn't care. Harding: And when the Titans defended themselves… [19]

Non-dwarf Rook: Rook: They were so happy about gaining the lyrium's power that they didn't notice it came from the Titans. Neve: Or didn't care. [19]

19 - Scene continues.

Rook: The first memory we saw, with Elgar'nan seizing power? It happened at the end of a war.

Harding: A war between the Titans and the elves.

Rook (picked stoic option): And we just saw how it started.

Rook (dwarf Rook, picked sad option): Then this was the start of it all. The war that destroyed the Titans.

Rook (non-dwarf Rook, picked sad option): Lace, I'm so sorry.

Rook (picked angry option): Those power-hungry bastards.

Harding: It feels like we still don't have the full picture. But I think that's part of what Solas regrets. He didn't see the danger.

Neve: Except he did. He was worried. You said it yourself.

Lucanis: He did it for Mythal. Everything that followed, he could've prevented. If he'd just told her no.

Rook: Then he's got a war on his conscience. Plus whatever we find next.

Next: Fate of the Titans