talkmagically

[talkmagically]

A Dance (completed oneshot)

The completed version of my Illarook Wardens post A Dance on AO3

Also below the cut. Word count 1,886

Illario sat on the bench in front of the piano in the Music Rook, staring moodily out the windows. With parts of the city still buried under inert blight, the Wardens aiding in Minrathous's recovery were staying in the Lighthouse and taking the Crossroads to the Dock Town Eluvian every day.

Most of the other Wardens assigned to Minrathous were still in the city, celebrating that they'd been able to complete clearing another neighborhood in the city today. They'd invited him to the Cobbled Swan with him, but Illario found that, for once, he wasn't in a particularly sociable mood.

If only Lucanis could see him now.

He smiled bitterly at that thought and took another swig of the wine from the bottle in his hand. It had been four months since the Siege of Minrathous. He'd written two letters to Lucanis in that time, and his cousin had denied to answer either. He wasn't sure of Lucanis had even read them.

To make it worse, he'd run into one of the Crows messengers in the Crossroads just an hour ago. The look of absolute distain and disgust from the man made him want to lash out, but he knew if he did there'd likely be some retaliation from the Crows. He might technically be a Grey Warden, but he had little doubt that several Crows still wanted him dead.

He heard the door open and footsteps come around to the stool. "Move over." Familiar fingers took the bottle from his hand, and he glanced at Rook as he watched her take a swig of wine.

"Decent vintage," she remarked as she handed the bottle back to him.

Illario frowned at her. "Rook, what are you doing here? Why aren't you at the Swan?"

"Probably for the same reason you are," she murmured as she stared into the fire.

Since his Joining, Illario made a point to spend most of his time around Wardens. Despite his crimes, they still welcomed him among their number. In his free time if he wasn't with a group of Wardens, he was with Rook. He'd found himself spending a lot of time in her company since they'd retaken Minrathous.

"What's wrong, Rook?" he asked, not liking her pensive expression as she stared at the piano.

"The same as usual," she replied. "It doesn't matter how much I help, how much we clear, most of the Shadow Dragons either ignore me outright or refuse to look me in the eye." She snorted. "Consequences of my actions."

He scowled. "They're still at that? What happened to Minrathous was the gods fault, not yours."

She shrugged. "Logically we all know that, but all they see is someone who didn't save her own home when the blighted dragons attacked." She glanced at him and lifted a brow. "What about you, why are you sulking here instead of at the Swan?"

"The usual," he smiled crookedly. "It's been four months since Elgar'nan's fall and my cousin still refuses to acknowledge me. On top of that I ran into a Crow messenger in the Crossroads. It was...unpleasant. I had to restrain myself."

Rook cocked her head. "You know you have to give Lucanis time, Illario. You can be sorry for what you did, but whether he ever truly forgives you."

"Is up to him," Illario finished, glancing back out the windows. "I know. And it's possible he may not want anything to do with me ever again. It's a consequence of my actions, my sins against him.." He sighed and glanced at the bottle in his hands. "So instead of celebrating, I am 'sulking' as you put it, alone with a bottle of wine."

"Not alone anymore," Rook pointed out, grabbing the wine bottle from him again and taking another sip. "If we're supposed to be celebrating, we can celebrate just the two of us."

Despite his mood, she made him laugh.

They sat there for a time, passing the bottle of Antivan white back and forth between the two of them. Being Wardens, it took a bit to get them even tipsy. He looked at the not quite empty body. "You know, if we were at the Swan, we could probably dance to whoever was playing."

"That's one way to celebrate," Rook agreed. "Why, are you asking me to dance, Illario Dellamorte?"

He smirked, "And if I am?"

"Then ask me properly," she replied cheekily.

Illario stood and offered her his hand. "May I have this dance, Warden Mercar?"

She chuckled and took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. As he he settled an arm around her waist, they heard the twinkling of wisps. The little creatures began to dance along the surface of the piano keys, and, amazingly, music began to play.

Illario regarded them quizzically before he pulled Rook flush against him and began to lead her in a dance. The unnatural fade light filtered through the windows as they danced, smiles flickering over both their lips. As the song ended, Rook lifted her chin, looking at Illario for a long moment before she placed her hands on either side of his face, and leaned up to kiss him.

Illario's arm tightened around her as he deepened the kiss, and heard her gasp as their bodies pressed closer. When they finally broke the kiss, both breathless, he stared down at her. "Are you sure about this?" he asked her softly.

"Yes," Rook replied firmly.

Both a little drunk on wine and elation, he kissed her again, then let her lead him from the Music Rook and towards her own quarters.

**** Illario opened his eyes to see the muted light of a giant fishtank shifting through the room. Motes danced atop scattered pieces of clothing. From where he lay he could see his shirt haphazardly thrown onto the wardrobe and his pants flung halfway across the room.

He was pressed against the back of a green velvet couch, his head resting on a pillow and his arm draped over the waist of the woman beside him. A blanket half hung off the bottom of the couch, kicked off by one or both of them at some point during the night.

The feeling of Rook's body pressed against the length of his own was an unfamiliar sensation. In the past he would often slip out while whoever he'd bedded the night before slept. Yet, with Rook's legs entangled with his own and the scent of jasmine from the shampoo she used filling his head, he found that, for once, he had no desire to move.

She murmured in her sleep, looking far more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. He knew the hunt for the gods had put an incredible strain on her, but even in the aftermath there was something still wearing her down. He knew a part of it was guilt, he saw it in her expression when she looked around Minrathous and she thought no one else was looking. The continued shunning by other Shadow Dragons hurt her and only fueled her guilt.

It seemed the fate of both of them to live with the consequences of their actions, one of them shunned for not being there and the other shunned for his actions against his cousin and the Crows. While he knew he deserved it, she did not.

He tucked her more securely against his side. She was warm and soft against him, a side of herself he knew she didn’t show to others, even if he wasn’t sure he deserved to see it. For whatever reason, Rook had chosen to trust him, trust that he meant he would try and redeem himself of his actions against his cousin and the Crows, that he’d change.

An unfamiliar feeling crept over him, and it took him several moments to figure out what it was, because it wasn’t a sensation he was used to.

He felt safe. Here in her room, in the Lighthouse with her body pressed against his own, he felt safe. She hadn’t slept with him to make someone else jealous, or because she thought she could get something by sleeping with one of the Dellamorte grandsons. She’d pulled him into her room last night and undressed him with hungry eyes simply because she wanted to sleep with him, Illario. Now the grandson of the First Talon, not a Crow, just Illario.

It had been a very long time since he’d been just Illario. The last time he could simply just be Illario had been before his parents had been assassinated by a rival house in an attempt to get to his grandmother. His parents, his aunts and uncles, his cousins, they’d been viewed as nothing but pawns by another House, pieces to be taken off the board in order to hurt his grandmother and her position as First Talon.

And no matter how many children or grandchildren she lost, Caterina would never give up the position of First Talon, not when he was growing up.

Most of his life had been dictated by the politics of the Antivan Crows and his grandmother’s whims and desires.

“Mm, you’re thinking too hard,” he heard her murmur. Illario glanced down at his lover. She’d rolled onto her back and was looking up at him while his thoughts had drifted.

“Am I?” Illario asked as he gazed down at Rook.

“Yes,” she replied. She lifted her hand and placed it on the back of his head. Sensing what she wanted, he chuckled and tilted his head to kiss her. Her hands shifted as he hovered over her, running along the length of his spine. One hand pushed his ass down, causing his body to align with hers and he groaned as he felt her heat against his cock.

“Meirda, Rook,” he moaned against her lips.

“I enjoyed last night,” she grinned up at him. “And I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance this morning.”

He remembered vividly the number of times he’d taken her the night before and the positions they’d been in.

“You’re making it very hard to say no to you,” he shivered as she dragged her nails along his back.

“You can get up and go back to your room if you want,” she told him. “Or you can stay here with me. It’s entirely up to you.”

“Wicked woman,” he growled. “I think you know exactly how tempting you are right now.”

“Maybe,” she laughed. Her expression grew serious for a moment. “I slept better last night than I have in a long time, Illario. I enjoyed the sex, but I also enjoyed sleeping in your arms. I’m not asking for declarations of love or grand romantic gestures. But I’d like to do this again.”

Taking in her expression, he kissed her again and said against her lips, “I think neither of us want last night to be a one time thing.”

“Good,” she smiled against his lips. “Then let’s take a day off. It’s been some time since we had a rest day, and see what sort of trouble we can get up to together, then maybe a late breakfast, and see what else we want to do after that.”

“A very late breakfast,” he murmured and dove back into her kiss and her warmth.

[talkmagically]

Fanfiction is so silly. I am playing with my dolls and people are coming over to watch. Some of them even clap and give me compliments. And when I'm done playing, I can go and watch other people play with their dolls.

[talkmagically]

i was at an event last night in california and i went to the bar to order wine bc wine was like, a thing, and i looked at the menu and saw i was completely out of my depth bc idk any wine names, so i turned to my right and there was a man in a gorgeous suit standing at the bar beside me and i said “do you know anything about wine?” and he said “a little, yes!” i told him i liked white and dry wines and asked if he’d order for me. he asked the server for two glasses and had one poured for each of us and then he clinked his glass on mine but he didn’t take a sip, he just watched me taste mine and then he asked what i thought and i said “it’s pretty good, but like i said, i wouldn’t know.” he laughed and told me to have a good time & i walked away. fifteen minutes later i found out he’s the winemaker.

[talkmagically]

[talkmagically]

Sometimes tweeter people know their stuff- this is the right kind of toxic angst I want to read.

[talkmagically]

The three stages of shipping.

Stage 1: NOW KISS

Stage 2: NOW FUCK

Stage 3: NOW BREAK EACH OTHER’S HEARTS AND THEN MEND THEM SLOWLY WHILE TOUCHING EACH OTHER WITH REVERENT, TREMBLING HANDS

[talkmagically]

- spend a day on a mod

- mod refuses to work

- get annoyed

- decide to make an entirely different mod just to feel a sense of accomplishment

- grey haired viago

[talkmagically]

[talkmagically]

I totally believe that Josephine would have worn the Commander’s clothes after that wicked grace game. Also, as @introvertedwife says, picture her walking into the barracks and trying to order around the soldiers while Cullen groans in the background.

[talkmagically]

I can't find the original post anymore so im bringing this back in 2025

[talkmagically]

I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.

"Would you like to?"

"Sure!"

So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.

Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.

[talkmagically]

a shout out to the small baby child today who was demanding liberation from her stroller but who, when asked if she would stay close to mama and not run around acting crazy, paused for a moment to contemplate the question and then answered "prob'ly no"

it cost you your freedom, small child, but i admire your integrity and honesty 😔

[talkmagically]

At this point with tumblr’s flagging system I’m surprised when I click on a post marked mature and it actually is mature content.

[talkmagically]

babe wake up, full canon accurate and up-to-date map of the star wars galaxy just dropped

[talkmagically]

[talkmagically]