adejareve

[adejareve]

Why is this so funny to me

[adejareve]

i wonder which scene they are all reading 👀 i did it to distract myrself a bit from the story - imagining that they are all alive and doing vell and that's all just a filmmmaking, while they are - just actors

[adejareve]

when I comment on a fellow writer's fic and they, in turn, comment on one of mine

[adejareve]

Five Sentence Fraturday

Thank you for the tag @sorrygoldfish. I think most of my usual tag game squad's been tagged already and I'm a day late but @styxdysnomia and @chaosherald, if you wanna play, it's never a bad day to give us all a little sneak peek!

Birdwatching continues to make me [shakes first at clouds] but also won't leave me alone, so I keep picking away at it. I'm almost done with a pretty thorough overhaul of Rook's initial chapter which I hope will help me with some of the writer's block and tone issues that were giving me trouble. The below is from the third, which is back to Lucanis, though:

“Oh, good.” Rook nods, attention shifting to the folder as she opens it and starts removing papers. “I mean we coulda done this with you just silently standing there I guess, but silently sitting, way better. Anyway, I guess let me—” “Who are you?” he asks, before she can get any further, the question coming almost without his agreement, tossed onto the table like the folder before he can catch it in his teeth.

[adejareve]

Fully sideswiped by how much is in here that, having read the whole story, had me sitting-up-Leo-pointing at the screen. It takes more than 5 minutes to get places, Illario! @sorrygoldfish just recently finished their modern-AU All My Friends Are Sad & Bright and it is just the warmest hug of a story, even though sometimes that hug is a painful one. Can't rec it enough for Rookanis lovers but also just Veilguard Team lovers, because they're here and them and I so, so lovable.

I respectfully disagree, btw - I liked the Andoral's Breath and I'm glad you kept it, goldfish.

Tell Me TuesThursFriday

Thanks for the tag and the game @adejareve! I think you've been tagged a couple times already, @gloaminghagette, but I'm tagging you again. Also @slothquisitor and @gingervitus (hi big fan hope this isn't weird don't care if it is!)

Pick a scene/chapter from one of your fics (or I'll suggest one!) and add any commentary you feel like. Why that line? How come this plot twist? What does the eyebrow waggle MEAN?!?! I want the dirt and I can only smash my face up against the glass of your stories so hard before I start to leave smudges.

I was prompted with ch1 of All My Friends Are Sad & Bright (because it's done now! So let's go back to the start!) which is a nice little (ok, long) modern coffee shop au about the things we do for the people we love. I picked out bits and pieces but it still turned out mega long so here we go under the cut:

It’s winter, and the dumpster in the alley behind the Lighthouse coffee bar is coated in a thin sheet of ice that crackles when Rook pushes the lid up.

It starts in winter because 1) I wanted Lucanis in long sleeves so eventually he would have to roll his sleeves up, and 2) I wanted most of Rook’s tattoos to be covered up so the reader sees more of them as Lucanis sees more of them. It starts at a dumpster because Rook is a mess. Too obvious? I don’t care. It gets even more obvious when she gets literal trash juice all over herself.

Rook’s sprinting before she has time to think.

Rook acting first and thinking later comes up a lot. Running down a dark alley towards a mugging-in-progress is a bad idea! But it feels very Shadow Dragon Rook, which this Rook technically is, and I wanted her to help rescue Lucanis from something to establish in-game parallels.

“Are you okay?” she asks, reaching out for the man’s shoulder. Cold fingers close around her wrist in an instant, halting her mid-reach. “Watch it,” Neve says sharply, turning the corner back into the alley. She lets the taser in her hand spark briefly in warning. The man’s grip spasms in panic at the sound of the taser, and he lets go to scrabble back against the alley wall. “Sorry,” he says, his voice ragged, his palms raised to show he’s not a threat. Rook’s wrist is colder now in the absence of his fingers.

Trying to seed in a lot of things here. Lucanis doesn’t want to be touched (he did just get beat up, but also recently got out of a bad situation that we find out more about later), he’s jumpy around tasers (this is never specifically addressed, but tasers come up multiple times and he always reacts negatively, and the hope was people would infer some things about it in relation to the aforementioned bad situation), and he’s not a threat. This isn’t some cool deadly assassin. This guy couldn’t defend himself from a mugger (not victim blaming, sorry Lucanis). Whatever his deal is, he’s not physically dangerous.

“I’m calling 911,” Neve says, pulling her phone out of her pocket with her own free hand. “No!” the man bites out. Neve and Rook exchange a glance. A familiar, what have we gotten ourselves into this time glance. “Please, no hospitals,” he says, softening his tone when he realizes he startled them again. His eyes jump back and forth between them, pleading, assessing.

No hospitals. Needed to establish this right out of the gate. Lucanis has negative associations with hospitals.

“Can you put your arm around me—“ “Lucanis,” he offers. “—Lucanis. I’m Rook, this is Neve.” Neve waves her taser in greeting, looking resigned. “I’d say nice to meet you, under other circumstances.” “Likewise,” Lucanis says dryly. He lets Rook close the remaining distance between them and pull his arm around her shoulders, so she can bear more of his weight. Rook guides him up slowly, hears him breathing sharply through his nose in an effort to hide his pain. He smells good, like he does laundry regularly and buys cologne somewhere fancy and artisanal. And I smell like trash juice.

From here on out, Rook seeks consent before she touches him (I don’t want to say always, maybe almost always). The first few times they touch are to help each other bear some pain.

They finally cross into the back hallway of the Lighthouse, and the ever-present smell of coffee, empty wine bottles, and slightly musty old furniture envelops her. Rook deposits Lucanis onto a worn leather couch, watching him take in his surroundings. The Lighthouse hasn’t changed much over the years since it opened—scuffed wood floors with a few thick rugs placed strategically to hide stubborn stains, mismatched secondhand furniture that’s more about comfort than cohesion, plants and stained glass hanging in the high, arched windows, shelves of books and games lining one wall next to a tiny stage for readings and open mic nights, and a long bar with all manner of coffee beans and booze behind it. Tinsel, paper snowflakes, and string lights still hang from the ceiling, the last stragglers from what Neve deemed “an aggressive amount of decorations” and Harding said was “like if holiday cheer got drunk and barfed everywhere.”

In case it wasn’t obvious, I hate how sterile a lot of coffee shops are these days. Hhhhhaate it. The Lighthouse is old, it has history, love and care is woven through everywhere. Full disclosure though, the Lighthouse being both a cafe and a bar is something I thought about changing a lot, and maybe would go back to change if I was doing it all again. There are a handful of places like this where I live, but for some reason I still worry people might find the premise unrealistic? Idk.

Rook scoops some ground Andoral's Breath into the moka pot reserved for employee use only, staying quiet. Lucanis’s arms have crossed protectively over his ribs and his spine is rigid. He reminds Rook of the feral cat who lives behind her apartment and hisses whenever she tries to feed him.

Another thing I would maybe change, Andoral’s Breath is so on the nose.

“Fine,” he eventually says, and begins unbuttoning his black coat, then the vest and crisp dress shirt beneath it. “But they’re not broken, just bruised.” “And I’m just supposed to take your word for that?” Lucanis averts his gaze as Neve leans forward to prod gently at his exposed skin, accidentally makes eye contact with Rook, then quickly turns his head the other way. His next words are quiet, almost swallowed by the dark corners of the Lighthouse. “I’ve had broken ribs before. That felt worse than this.”

Broken ribs specifically as a nod to TWJ. Teeing up the reveal for the reason behind them wayyyy in advance.

She hands her very old phone over with a wince. “Sorry it’s a little sticky. And maybe smelly. I lost a fight with a dumpster earlier.” Lucanis glances at her jacket, which is still wet and definitely stained down one side, and graciously says nothing. Rook is almost too tired to be embarrassed. Almost.

Rook is a mess. Lucanis sees the mess.

He dials a number and whoever’s on the other end sounds like they're out at a bar or club—unintelligible background conversation and indistinct techno music blares into the Lighthouse’s quiet confines. “It’s me, I lost my phone,” Lucanis says, which is certainly one way to oversimplify the night’s events.

I just really like this line, I like how much Lucanis undersells it. Also, of course Lucanis calls Illario, because who else does he have to call?

Lucanis relays the information to his cousin, who shouts, “24th? What are you thinking walking sixteen blocks in this cold? I’ll be there in five.”

In most cities, even later at night, it’s going to take longer than 5 minutes to drive sixteen blocks, even if the traffic light gods are working in your favor 👀

“So, you’re a private investigator, and you…own this place?” Lucanis directs the second question to Rook. Maybe she’s projecting, maybe she’s just tired, but she sees herself through his Cantori Diamond eyes—her ruined jacket, self-administered short haircut, the couple of tattoos visible outside her long sleeves and pants—and feels like he must think she’s some stupid kid in way over her head, instead of a semi-responsible adult who’s probably only a few years younger than he is.

Just in case you weren’t sure, Rook has self-esteem issues.

Rook watches him look around again, and remembers what it was like when she saw the Lighthouse for the first time. Who else was here. Her heart clenches, and she clears her throat. “I took things over after—there was a previous owner, who…” “I also work here part-time,” Neve swoops in, steering the conversation away from troubled waters before Rook can flounder. “P.I. gigs don’t actually pay all that well, if you can believe it.”

Neve saves Rook from having to talk about things she’s not ready to talk about, for better or worse, right from the start.

“Perhaps not in the circles you run in.”

This is another thing that I might have tweaked. Whenever I reread this chapter, I worry that Lucanis comes off as too mysterious. Like, it’s nighttime, and a scary thing just happened, and I wanted things to feel a little weird in a way that is immediately offset by the brightness and chitchat in the next chapter. But I still wonder if I set Lucanis up the right way for the reader to understand what kind of story they’re in for, if that makes sense?

Lucanis pauses, then removes his coat, careful not to twist his torso too much. He holds it out to Rook. “Please, take it. You shouldn’t go back outside in a wet jacket.” Rook stands there with her mouth open like an idiot. “I—what? I’ll be fine, I can’t take your coat.” The car horn honks again. “It’s the least I can do to repay your generosity.” “But won’t you be cold?” “Illario’s car will have the heat blasting.” “But—” “Rook, I insist.”

Rook is bad at accepting help. She thinks of herself as an idiot, a LOT. Her internal dialogue often isn’t very nice. Lucanis wants to help. He insists. This comes up again and again and again.

Neve walks him to the door, shooting a did that just happen? look over her shoulder at Rook, and unlocks it to let him out. The bells above the door jingle. A blast of cold wind sneaks in. Lucanis jogs stiffly to the passenger side of the SUV and slides in, and Rook hears Illario say, “What the fuck happened to you?” as the door shuts.

Illario asks that. He asks “what the fuck happened to you?” Illario does. 🙃

[adejareve]

Yesss the agony I am here for. @epiphany-jones's Crumbs for the Starving is just a masterclass in organic emotional misalignment and two people trying so hard and still just caught up in their own pain so much that they can't see past it to recognize the other. There are so many just heart-rending parts of this story and everyone should read it, but the parts that always get me the most are where they are so, so, so close to breaking through to each other and getting it right and then just barely miss, again.

Asta I wanna just read your thoughts on the whole damn thing, thanks. Loooove your commentary.

Tell me Tuesday THURSDAY

Thank you once again to @adejareve for inventing this amazing game and tagging me in! I am tagging @gloaminghagette because I sincerely want to crawl into your brain and live there over Your Girl, Your Ghost but also seriously no pressure?? sorry hi hello

Pick a scene/chapter from one of your fics (or I'll suggest one!) and add any commentary you feel like. Why that line? How come this plot twist? What does the eyebrow waggle MEAN?!?! I want the dirt and I can only smash my face up against the glass of your stories so hard before I start to leave smudges.

Nim prompted me with either Chapter 5 of Crumbs for the Starving (mid-length rookanis angst with a happy ending) or Soft Landings (pre-Veilguard Thorne/&Blackwall (yes really) whump oneshot), and because I don't want to make myself cry today I picked Crumbs.

Of ch5, I've gone specifically into the ending scene, because that's where I blinked and realized as I was writing it that I had an actual story on my hands instead of the loose collection of interludes I'd previously assumed. This was supposed to be the chapter where they fell into bed together the end! lol. lmao, even.

Long post, so it's all under the cut.

The tl;dr context is that following the romance lock, Rook and Lucanis started hooking up, but Spite was not happy being relegated to the cuck chair and Lucanis refused to listen or give an inch. Spite took over to kiss Rook, and when Lucanis came back he was so horrified (at himself/Spite/her/the violation/the loss of control) he shut down and kicked her out. He then had a conversation with Spite where they came to something of an understanding, but Rook's been out all day sublimating her feelings into killing darkspawn which didn't work as well as she would have liked! She skipped dinner to avoid having to talk to anyone.

Lucanis stood in the darkness of the hallway, a fork in one hand and a plate of hazelnut torte in the other. The gentle shifting green light of the water played over his face. Rook stared at him for a long moment. He was too much a professional to fidget under her scrutiny, but his sharp features were drawn and he watched her with a banked expression that said he expected her to turn him away. She considered it. The anger was still there, sullen and heavy in her gullet. But instead of closing the door, she stepped to the side, giving him space and an implicit invitation to cross the threshold. Leading the team had gotten her some practice at not giving in to petty impulses—and she did want that torte.

If I was going back and editing for content, the food would maybe have been less on the nose? But otoh I do also think that Lucanis would try to soften this hard conversation with an offering, and the torte was the moment where the space between them was first bridged… I don't know. I became a much better writer over the course of this fic and I'm a little shy about beats which I know I could do way better now.

Anyway, Rook here working so hard to be bigger than her worst instincts. She's pinning it on being made a leader against her will, but I think it's also the fact that she identified the potential of this relationship back in ch1. She's got a lifetime of fucking up and pushing away all opportunities for connection, but she's trying.

“Alright,” she said with a sigh after she swallowed the mouthful, and looked up from her cake to find him half-turned from her with one hip cocked against the back of her couch. He was looking at her almost shyly. Maker, he really was beautiful, haloed in ripping light and his eyes soft and sad and dark. She took another bite rather than deal with that and swallowed the mouthful half-chewed. Her throat hurt. “Which one of us should go first?”

My best girl. She's direct, our Rook. Not letting herself feel her feelings, but direct.

“I… we wanted to—” “We?” He glanced away. “Ah, yes.” “So after you tossed me out on my ear, you two actually talked?” Lucanis had the grace to flinch. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was… not my best moment.” Rook put her plate down on the sideboard and crossed her arms. Sure, she’d fucked up, but being dismissed like a serving girl had hurt, and she had to grit her teeth against the bile she wanted to spit. Instead, she took a breath like the leader she was supposed to be, and said, “I'm sorry, too.”

For one shining moment, they talk like adults. I'd like to hold hands and close our eyes and meditate on how close, again, these two got to just being fine. (This is a lie. They were once again close to being fine for now, but without the shit they shoveled for the next 5/6 chapters I don't think they would have actually made it out of whatever the next stumble was.)

He blinked. “What are you apologizing for?” Somehow, it made things worse. She had been left to stew in the horror of crossing a line with him, when he hadn't even considered her at fault. “And here I thought you sent me away because I let Spite kiss me.” Her voice was bitter. She hated it. “Instead it was, what, pride? Not wanting me to see you deal with the mess in your head? I'm not under any illusions here. I know what was done to you left scars, but I thought I made it clear I wanted all of you, scars included. I'm not here in spite of them.”

Unfortunately, Lucanis is 40,000 leagues under the 'if everything is my fault that means I had control over the situation and it didn't just happen to me' sea; and Rook, having identified the kind of emotional intimacy and trust necessary for a real relationship, is trying to get there by brute force. Extremely relevant to that last bit: Rook saying I know what was done to you left scars, but I thought I made it clear I wanted all of you sure does kinda brush! aside! the trauma! she's supposedly acknowledging!

He rubbed his face. “You say that, Rook, but it's my mess. You shouldn’t be the one to clean it up.” “That's bullshit. You can’t treat me like I'm—I don’t know, too busy to handle it? That I don't actually mean it? If you're in the shit, I want to be there with you. I know that's going to be hard. But if you're going to shut me out, I’m done.”

So like, obviously Lucanis shuts down and retreats into self-isolating as he's always done, and Rook immediately lashes out and throws walls up and distances herself and the ultimatum kinda just pops out—

Rook breathed heavily, her heart lurching in her chest more than beating. The words had come out without her meaning to say them, but she couldn't take them back. She'd meant them. They were true. He'd turned away when she'd started talking. In the wake of her little speech he still wasn't looking at her, and his strong features were cast into perfect silhouette by the glowing water behind him. She wanted to trace the lines of that face with her fingers. She wanted to yank him around so she could see what his expression was. She wanted to kiss him and she wanted to hit him and she wanted, very badly, to cry. It was only a shame that she hadn't gotten to fuck him before everything fell apart.

She has at this point let him have like ten words in edgewise, none of which she really listened to, and has fully convinced herself that it's done and over. Also that last line, she's already hardening herself into some very mean objectification of herself and him, and minimizing her own emotions into horniness.

“You are. Important,” Lucanis's mouth said with Spite's nasal, grating voice. There was a plaintive tone to its usual whine. Violet flickered across the one eye she could see before it closed. “But I don't know how to do this,” continued Lucanis, rough and low. “You and me both,” whispered Rook, quiet enough that maybe he didn't hear. She pushed off of the wall and swallowed past the lump in her throat, starting again with a stronger voice. “If you're willing to try figuring it out, I'm here. If you're convinced it won't work, or it's too much, or that it's not worth the effort—” “That's not—” “—then I'm still glad to have you on my team against the gods, but I'm going to need some time,” she finished, speaking over him and gesturing toward the hallway. She really didn't want to hear why exactly he wasn't going to fight for that almost-something between them.

I do think Lucanis is trying here, but not very hard, because he truly doesn't believe he's a person who can have good things; and Rook is so damaged and defensive that the first time any friction entered the relationship she launched directly into making sure it was over before she could be hurt any more by doing something so stupid as 'wanting'.

She decided literally as she was talked that he won't fight, and she's not giving him a chance to prove her wrong.

“I'm not what you deserve,” he said softly, and the words cracked through her like a shattered bone.

Lucanis thinks he's explaining that he's not going to burden bright beautiful her with his brokenness (a brokenness which has been highlighted by Rook asserting that he should be able to let her in when he really, really can't in the face of such brute force) and Rook hears someone she trust[s/ed] making a decision for her because what she wants is wrong.

And, honestly, that latter point is such a foundational wound to her because her whole life has a lot of her wants being wrong or impossible—she didn't want to be a mage or go to the Circle, she didn't want to go to Redcliffe when the circles fell, she certainly didn't want to find out that being a Warden meant endless useless politics and watching people die as much as it meant helping the world.

Folks! It's bad!

Then his eyes flashed violet and Spite's kiss crushed suddenly against her lips. “Do not. Let him go,” it said against her mouth, demanding and pathetic. Its hands were in her hair.

Spite loves Rook so much and it is completely at the mercy of her and Lucanis. This is the moment where I think Spite fully realizes she could be lost to it forever just by dint of stupid contradictory mortal emotions? It's given up on Lucanis because Lucanis himself has given up here, but Rook, Rook can fix this—

But there was nothing to be done. Before she could even think to raise her hands the glowing light in his eyes blinked out, and Lucanis flinched away from her as if burned. He turned and all but fled, disappearing down the darkened hallway without another look. She stood still as his footsteps faded down the hall. In the deafening quiet, she closed the door.

Veeery deliberate calling back to the idea that Rook opens doors with 'Rook closed the door' because I love pain.

The thing that's constantly surprising to me is how many people have reacted to this chapter and reacted specifically shaking Lucanis, when I wrote it thinking about how awfully Rook was acting. This isn't to say that anyone read 'incorrectly' or that I missed writing something important—I just think that it's fascinating to see the contrast. I still think Rook is the main actor in this here mess, but digging in to just how thoroughly Lucanis had given up before he even started does give me an appreciation for where other folks are coming from.

Also, seriously, pausing to give myself a pat on the back because I:

wrote this while going ?!??!?!?! because they were seriously just supposed to kiss and make up, and

had to bullet-point out what the fuck even happened here after the fact, let alone where I was supposed to go from here, and yet still managed to

take these threads and use them to build seven more chapters of character growth and tie them off in a resolution that I truly think honors all of their trauma and history.

Good job me. I really am so proud of this fic.

[adejareve]

Ok this is THE coolest. I tagged @chaosherald for TMT and they came back with this super interesting commentary on this entire! Song!! They wrote!!! I love love the way Davrin's journey is presented and the way he came to co-existence as shepherd and Warden. A traditional ballad does feel so appropriate for his story.

Tell me Tuesday Thursday Today

Thank you @adejareve for creating this and for the tag! Tell me about your process (if you want! no pressure!) tags to @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @davrinsleftpectoral @seaglassmelody @woundedsoul12 @dags-over-caravans and anyone else who wants to put the analysis hat on 💕

Pick a scene/chapter from one of your fics (or I'll suggest one!) and add any commentary you feel like. Why that line? How come this plot twist? What does the eyebrow waggle MEAN?!?! I want the dirt and I can only smash my face up against the glass of your stories so hard before I start to leave smudges.

I just finished my Rookanis kiss week piece (which was all Lucanis' POV) and Lucanis week work is waiting and I've been chatting with my fabulous beta readers about my Lucanis character study, so I decided to go somewhere completely different as a palate cleanser. 😂 (Love our coffee demon assassin, but variety is important.)

Davin week was the first companion week I was able to participate in for DA:V. I was juuuust dipping my toes back into writing/fandom shenanigans when Bellara week was being posted. I love having prompts to work with and the vibe/support from the companion week stuff seemed really welcoming, so I figured I'd participate and see what happens (good things happened, it turned out - you all are the best 💕) This was for the first day's theme for Davrin week and it was the last thing I wrote....the day before the event started. 😂 I wrote the first draft of the words on my phone at the gym because it wouldn't leave me alone.

I was originally just thinking ballad style poetry. I love poetry - my creative writing started there and I often wander back. I am also a singer and music teacher and while I was writing this I was definitely singing it in my head - mainly to check meter/phrase length and the like - and it occurred to be that I could probably do a real simple accompaniment on ukulele and record it. I then almost immediately rejected the idea because anxiety and like, putting words out into the world is one thing, recording myself was another. But I eventually settled on I'll negotiate some quiet time, lock myself in the basement, and see where things went. (shout out to the kids and spouse for making that happen 💕)

This was take #7. I had an acceptable take on the first or second try, but wasn't completely happy with it. I still stumble a bit in this one too, but by that point this felt like a project I should finish and my kids are only willing to let me hide in the basement for so long 😂 (I delved into multi-track recording with audacity on my blues song for Neve week - maybe I'll loop back to this and record a clean take.)

This all only worked because the melody in my head had settled into something very reminiscent of 'Loreley' by Blackmore's Night and I had learned an accompaniment for that song a few summers ago when I took a class on teaching ukulele. 🙌

I'll sing to you the Shepherd's song The days are calm, the nights are long Standing guard ‘til coming dawn  In vigilance and peace 

(We start at the beginning - I wanted to show Davrin's journey from shepherd to hunter to finally a unification of the two. Settled into a AAA - tag word rhyme scheme. Not the most common for ballads, but I always like when they have that repeated tag bit tying the verses together/highlighting the theme. It also seemed fitting for Davrin - he is doing this for peace - other's people's peace, he doesn't actually think he's going to be able to benefit, but he is going to guard and fight so others can. Fun fact that I learned writing this: Mass Effect ruined my ability to spell "Shepherd." 😂)

Hallas’ guard with noble heart Learns the three pronged Hunters’ art Not content to watch, must start The trail to war not peace 

I'll sing to you the Hunter’s song  Warrior brave verse darkness strong  Walks the lone paths grave and long Seeking out the peace Hunter takes up Warden’s blade Common cause so nobly made Darkspawn all ought be afraid  And threaten not the peace 

(The transition from shepherd to hunter to warden. Writing song lyrics or metered poetry limits how wordy you can get - which is usually a good thing for me - figuring out what details to include and what to omit is tricky. Here I wanted the journey/theme and his relationship with Assan to be the focus. I also love how Davrin *chooses* to become a warden, so I wanted a bit of that.)

And then he finds another call Wild long lost griffons fall Left to guard the last of all Defender of the peace  Shepherd and Hunter both must be To train to bond to help to see Be one together, dark shall flee Partners keeping peace

(I'm still not entirely happy with the "And then he finds another call" stanza. It gets us where we need to go and tells us what we need to know but this is a spot where adding a stanza might have been useful? I don't know. "To train to bond to help to see" was really fun to sing. Bouncy, lol. Also, see what? Dunno! Sometimes being tied to a rhyme scheme means less than ideal sentences 😂 We touch on Assan's arc, hunter in training, who shows he can be a shepherd too with him taking care of the halla, just like Davrin used to - bringing Davrin back to his roots - they can both be both. I love it.)

And when the Hunters track their prey The other griffons whisked away Through their bond they save the day Shepherding the peace Return to forest ancient fair* Release the griffons to the air Left his heart, his own son there The best to serve the peace

(I don't know if I would say this was the emotional crux of Davrin's story - saying goodbye to Assan and leaving him to be with his siblings - but it's up there and it is definitely the emotional crux of the song. The paths he walked, the roles he has taken on had led him here - to loving Assan so much that they were able to save Assan's family and Davrin was ready to walk away so Assan could be happy. I also includes alt lyrics - *Can be changed to "Return to noble wardens fair" - but I like the original better, both because it is what I did in my game and because it fits the theme of the song. Hunter and Shepherd can coexist - Davrin and Assan can be both, the griffons can be both, both are valid ways to preserve the peace. We already know them as wardens - what else can they be/have they been?)

But such a bond not easily made Refuses to be cut or frayed And by his side his griffon stayed Partners in the peace

(And the resolution - you know it's coming in the game, but damn does it still feel good 😂)

I'll sing to you the Shepherd's song Hunters bonded, true and strong  Fly forever free and long In vigilance and peace And may you find your noble song You guardians of the peace.

(I love bookending things. I do it a lot in my writing. It is especially fitting here - I tell my kids in school that musicians copy themselves all the time. We love repetition - it becomes the glue that holds everything together, helps to make it sound like it's all belongs together. The coda at the end is another things that I like to include in this kind of poem/song. Gives a sense of winding down - literally, if you perform it with a ritardando - and helps to make things sound finished.

And now I've established that this is going to be a thing for character weeks. I've done songs for Harding and Neve too. Tentatively, I'm thinking something murder ballad-ish for Lucanis week. Summer vacation is also winding down, so we'll see what that does to my writing time. 😅)

[adejareve]

Tell Me Tues Thurs Fri Day

Work and business got in the way of answering @epiphany-jones's tag for some of kindred spirits chapter 15 but I got there eventually. Tearstone Island chapters: like bellybuttons, everyone's got one! Mine is a long one that has Lucanis in a lot of places emotionally, but I've added some commentary below on the very last scene in the chapter, with Rook's reappearance. As like last time, it got too long because I talk too much.

A rule I set for myself when I started getting serious with writing this instead of just kind of playing around with little bits and snippets in my head was: no in-game scenes or dialogue. With the exception of one or two lines I included portions of, I did stick to that, but wrapping up the Tearstone chapter was one of the places I was most tempted. I considered for a little while doing a morning-after conversation instead but it felt out of place as well as a little redundant to the morning-after scene in 16 that leads into the conversation with Antoine. So much of Rook and Lucanis’ story in ks is in what they don’t say and emotional intimacy in the silences, so once I started in on it, this moment of barely-held control to keep from shattering on both ends ended up feeling really thematically appropriate. The scene below was written before any of the rest of the chapter, and everything leading up to it followed later.

They tell her.  In bits and pieces, picking up from each other when the last one can’t go on. The race from the island, which Lucanis doesn't remember. Those first few flayed-open days after. Lucanis gave too many of those to Spite, mostly remembers them anyway, wishes he didn’t.  Minrathous and Arlathan. The south. Bellara—still, nothing.

I specifically decided to work in some lost time for Lucanis because as I’ve mentioned before, he is all about control in this story, and in this chapter he has almost none: no control over what happened, no ability to even remember it, a total reliance on external reporting. I wish I’d hit this admission a little harder, that he gives up the first few days to Spite, after having spent most of the story fighting tooth and nail to keep as much control as possible over their body. That’s as much about the evolution of their relationship and the trust that’s developed between them as it is losing Rook and probably could have used a little more note.

Rook is impassive through it all. She has a few terse questions here and there, but mostly she just listens, and Lucanis watches from across the room as the line of her back gets tighter and tighter, as the glass of water that she doesn't drink rotates in her fingers in tiny, controlled increments.

Earlier in the chapter, in the scene in Rook’s room, Lucanis has the last of a series of moments through the story where he has his perception & understanding of Rook altered by some new information (in that case, finding the coin left behind and what that implies). From her return on, Lucanis does, more or less, see her clearly, and I think her tendency to obscure herself made that clarity only really possible with her absence.

He hasn't touched her since those first few frantic moments in a tangle on the balcony floor, his hands grasping at her arms, her shoulders, anything to convince himself she was real. The held breath as her eyes had met his and her face crumpled, her fingers tracing the line of his cheekbone so lightly that it seemed she thought they might go right through— He doesn't trust himself closer than the other side of the room, right now.

Not much in the way of reunion for these two. So much of the story is about them holding themselves away from each other, so I was a little worried that the lack of real emotional re-connection on screen was going to seem a little distant. I tried to pack a lot of feeling into that short paragraph of reacting to seeing each other again since that was always going to be all they got. ‘What does it mean to understand someone’ was a major theme that emerged in the writing of the story; in this case, Lucanis recognizing Rook’s need to get her outward-facing self straight and giving that priority over himself in all this is absolutely meant to be read as an act of love, albeit a quiet one.

Spite is cautious. Watching. Still wrong, he warns, but Lucanis disagrees. Not wrong, just not ready.

For most of the story, Spite has a clearer view of the Rook behind the mask than Lucanis does; this is the first time it occurs in the reverse, and was again meant to communicate, after all times he thought he had it: now, he understands.

Taash, halting, hands tight on the arms of the chair. “Lace had… ways. Of reaching her people. The Inquisition. But I don’t know—she never told me—” “Through Arlathan,” Rook says, very quietly. “A woman with the Jumpers. Name's Amylia.” “The merchant?” Davrin blinks at her. “She’s Inquisition? How do you know that?” Rook is staring down at the glass. She huffs a bitter-sounding laugh and says something so quietly that Lucanis can't quite make it out.

I didn’t want Rook’s outburst to come completely out of left field, but I did want it to feel a little sharp—like a pressure cooker finally blowing the seal after having been rattling around on the counter for a while. Lucanis warns the reader in his observations of her body language, and then I do with the bitterness here, but I still hoped her upcoming outburst would be a little jarring.

Neither can Davrin. “What?” “I said, it’s because she told me YESTERDAY.” Suddenly she is out of the chair, explosive, flinging the glass across the room in one wide, wild motion. It hits the stone wall and shatters. Her voice is ragged. “Harding. And Bellara. And Varric. I talked to them yesterday, I—” Rook cuts off as abruptly as she began, back to them, fingers clenched in her hair so tightly that her knuckles have gone white. Lucanis can see the fine tremors in her back, the way her breath is coming too fast.

In chapter 8 Rook says, “I am incredibly angry all of the time,” which is on the surface not a statement that really aligns with the self she gives the world; I tried to give little glimpses of the anger leaking through the cracks at high-intensity moments but still let her hold most of it more or less in check, specifically for this instance of absolute loss of control. Rook is presented to the reader imperfectly through Lucanis’ view, and I decided to maintain that even here, with the crux of this emotional crash occurring with her back to the reader. What was more important to me is that after having spent the entire story borderline obsessively trying to figure her out, Lucanis doesn’t need to see this. She’s not giving this to anyone, including him, and that’s okay. He gets it anyway. (They’ve come a long way!)

Neve opens her mouth as if to say something and he catches her eye, gives a tiny shake of his head. Holds up a hand to stay Emmrich. Not yet. Taash was right. It isn't fair. If it was, he’d cross the room to her. Unwind those fingers, carefully. And she would shatter like the glass, or he would. Maybe—probably—both. But if things were fair, Harding would be alive. Bellara would be here. A fingertip grip on herself. He knows the feeling. If she breaks now because he can’t hold the rest of them together, he thinks she might never forgive him. And they have work to do.

Another moment that I hoped would read as very quietly loving, to know her so well that Lucanis is able to understand what she needs and give her that / protect it for her, regardless of what he (or she!) might want, or what anyone else needs or wants. Canonically we see all Rooks really running themselves in circles taking care of everyone around them, and this moment where he takes care of her by protecting the space to take care of herself happens without recognition, silently, and where she can’t see it.

Rook’s breathing is slowing. Her back relaxes. Her arms fall to her sides. Another moment, and she reaches one hand out. The shards of glass pull together in reverse and follow the same path they just took, back to her hand. Lucanis isn’t sure if he’s ever seen her use her magic to put something back together, before.

It was my never my goal for Rook or Lucanis to “fix” their trauma. Of the two of them, Lucanis definitely comes a lot closer in the dynamic that evolves with Spite. Rook, meanwhile, is being who she has always been. The “healed” response here would be to let her friends (and the reader) see the pain, to let herself be vulnerable, and to let herself get support from others. Rook continues to refuse to give that to anyone including us, and that was pretty important to me in trying to make sure that this didn’t turn into a story about love healing all wounds. No. It doesn’t. She’s pulling herself back together like my slightly clunky glass metaphor and no one is invited into that.

When she turns back around, her eyes are red, her skin is pale, and she looks so, so tired. She sets the glass down very gently on the table and then straightens to look at each of them in turn. Taash first. Lucanis last.

Another inversion, Rook having spent most of the story finding Lucanis’ gaze first in a room, and here she actively avoids it until she is absolutely sure she has herself under control. And again, after a whole story of reading her wrong, this time he gets it:

There she is.

Every recurrence of “there she is” throughout the story was to lead to this line, where they can look at each other in a room full of people and see each other clearly, despite everything.

Yes. Ours. “Okay,” she says, quietly. “Take me through it one more time. Start with Minrathous.” So they do.

The chapter as a whole obviously focuses on dealing with grief, but the last section was definitely more about what it looks like to really know someone and recognition as an expression of love. I chose to end the chapter here because I wanted to go into the last game-era chapter with forward momentum and on a note where all three of them are emotionally aligned.

It meant we don’t get to see Lucanis finally allowing himself to have the one though he’s been avoiding all chapter: “I’m never going to see her again.” I think he doesn’t let himself admit that until he’s literally in the room, looking at her, and while this last scene doesn't have much of it, this whole chapter is him cycling through the stages of grief while refusing to ever call it that or acknowledge it. In ks Lucanis fashion, that's only visible (to him) in hindsight.

And it meant almost no Rook. Partially because we know what she was up to and partially because that’s a different story. I really liked getting to write her POV in the epilogues and some of the other linked stories but even if I did here, she’d be so far off from ready to really process any of this that there wouldn’t be much to write. For these two, I came to view the post-Tearstone scene as a tourniquet more than a reunion. They’re together, they’ve stopped the active emotional bleeding, but the actual healing can’t start yet, so I was okay with leaving it at just what we get in the game.

It was around these final few chapters that I realized I wanted to do a pretty extensive post-game section and not just the kind of one or two chapter send-off I was originally thinking, because another theme that kind of emerged as I was writing it all was "how do you live in the ‘after’”. For Lucanis, he’s after the Ossuary, and Caterina, and eventually Illario; more acutely it’s after falling in love and making space for that, and then losing them. For Rook the story slowly reveals that who we meet is who she became after her early life and losing her sister. For Spite it’s after the violent metamorphosis into something else against his will, and the losing one self to slowly become another. For all of them, the epilogue chapters became after the war and slowly shifting from survival to living and what that looks like. So, too many words to say: this isn’t the resolution for them that the equivalent game scenes are kind of meant to be, and that’s why I didn’t write it that way.

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Presenting to you my writing cycle

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Tell Me Thursday

I forgot to do this on Tuesday but it’s still a T day so it still counts. Tagging @epiphany-jones @sorrygoldfish @dags-over-caravans @selennes @chaosherald @vixenofcadmea and any/everyone else who wants to talk about their writing:

Pick a scene/chapter from one of your fics (or I'll suggest one!) and add any commentary you feel like. Why that line? How come this plot twist? What does the eyebrow waggle MEAN?!?! I want the dirt and I can only smash my face up against the glass of your stories so hard before I start to leave smudges.

I’ll play too. Pick whatever y’all want if you want in this week, or lmk in the comments and I’ll request a chapter.

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[video by mr.tomtotoro. no caption]

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Last Line Written

Thanks to @chaosherald for the tag! Honestly, I'm in deep writer's block the last week or so, so I haven't written much. The bit I have is still pecking away at the modern-era Thedas AU that wants to consume 100% of my brain space and 0% of my output, apparently.

Tarquin takes another sip, but the hand not busy with the cup is drumming a restless, staccato rhythm against his thigh. Still off the cigarettes, then. Good for him, even if it does make him an absolute bear to deal with. “I’m not cranky,” he grumbles, crankily.

Gently tagging @epiphany-jones @sorrygoldfish @dags-over-caravans @styxdysnomia @selennes @vixenofcadmea and a wide-open tag to anyone else who's got something cool in the pipeline. Hopefully you're having more compliant brains than I do this week.

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Joining 🍷🌟

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Followed the link on an impulse and could not have hit kudos/subscribe/comment faster by the end. I am SO excited for more of this.

Did I...

Did I just make a 42-part, dueling-chronology Rookanis fic?

Did I just post Chapter 1 of said fic?

Does Chapter 1 have 6,500+ words?

What the hell have I gotten myself into, folks?

Somebody go read it, please. Tell me how horrible it is and spare me the agony of more writing/editing/tweaking. Kthx. I'll try to update this thing every Thursday. If I don't die from shame first. Or something.

[adejareve]

maybe intimacy isn't taking off your clothes. maybe it's taking off your "i'm fine." maybe it's being naked in ways that have nothing to do with skin.

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Class is back in session I am TAKING NOTES. @epiphany-jones's Crumbs For the Starving is gorgeously devastating and the when I tell you the 'angst with a happy ending' tag gets put to WORK on this one. Sooo interesting to see the thought process behind how her Lucanis & Spite struggle to navigate being in different emotional places and especially to read about how Spite became the fulcrum that the story turned on.

Also 'vertigo of almosts' and 'He’d followed the sweeps of the sun and moon and stars across the vault all his life, and had never needed them to return his devotions.' Come on.

Tell me Tuesday

A day late, because my wifi went out yesterday :')

@adejareve invented an amazing tag game!

Pick a scene/chapter from one of your fics (or I'll suggest one!) and add any commentary you feel like. Why that line? How come this plot twist? What does the eyebrow waggle MEAN?!?! I want the dirt and I can only smash my face up against the glass of your stories so hard before I start to leave smudges.

I was tagged by her and @dags-over-caravans. Tagging @rookamell @skogrr and @rosieofcorona but!! only if you want to!!

Nim had this specific chapter of Crumbs for the Starving ready when I asked what she wanted me to dig into. I initially didn't even have the right chapter in mind when she said 10, because it's really been that long since I last read through and honestly I wrote a lot of the last third of Crumbs in a kind of manic fever? So I was especially excited to look backward, almost as an archeological dig on myself.

This wound up... really long, so all of it's under the cut.

First things first: I didn't actually have any particular thread in mind when I had Rook try to sublimate her emotions via exertion/violence way back in chapter 5, and I am so pathetically grateful to my subconscious for presenting it because the blight in general and the Something's Coming quest in specific wound up being unrelentingly thematically essential. This is from 5:

The worst of it was, they'd done good work. Rook should have felt a warm sense of accomplishment under the smothering fatigue, maybe even some hope—and, more than that, she should have been sharing it with her people. They'd spent nearly ten unbroken hours out in the upper fields and had made real progress beating the Blight back from them. For the first time since they’d found Lavendel, there was a glimmer of possibility that its farmers would be able to plant anything worth harvesting come spring. There was a world where there’d be food growing and a return to the normal rhythms of life after all the horror. Flowers even, maybe.  [...] “You set my sachets on fire as requested?” Antoine called from his place at the work table. He was bent over something bubbling and did not look up as he spoke. Evka answered before she could, fond exasperation in her voice. “She already said they did. If you’re not going to pay attention, please let me finish my debrief?” A hand came up, waving in apology. “Sorry! Thank you!” Rook gave a short laugh and shook her head again. “It’s fine. If they actually ward off the Blight from advancing any further, I’ll set fire to as many as you can make.”

Like. What the fuck. I even mentioned fucking flowers. Thank you, brain.

Anyway! In the game, there's no information on what Lavendel experienced except for the line mentioning that the blight "reacted," but it made sense that a full organized defense would be necessary, and it made sense Lucanis would be awful at it.

They, the members of Rook’s team, had been told to stick close to the barricades, Evka placing them in pairs at each entry-point and Neve alone at the blighted tunnel; she’d explicitly directed them to provide forward defense for the scant dozen or so Wardens left at each point, and that made sense to him. But when the attack came it came like a hammer’s fall, and without conscious thought he found himself lost in the horde's midst.  He swept through it, insensate to everything except the song of violence. This, now, this he was a master of; there was no doubt nor hesitation in him as he killed. His rapier and knife moved faster than conscious thought could form, his muscles warm and thick-loose under his skin, Spite dancing in violet light along the edges of his vision and lending him wings here, a spirit's strength there. The demon’s senses and reactions overlapped with his own honed instincts, and with the power of both he threw himself heedlessly from one slavering enemy to the next. […] Under the roaring in his ears was a persistent, almost-tinny sound; Lucanis shook his head, trying to place it. Too slowly it resolved itself into Harding's high, furious voice demanding from a distance that he come back here.  […] She did not speak until he came to a halt before her. He could feel the twist of his mouth and did not bother to smooth it away; he did not like being called to heel. Her soft face, already uncharacteristically hard, became a closed fist in response, and though she had to look up to meet his eyes he felt the weight of her anger pressing him down. Her quiver was empty. There were specks of mud and worse adding new freckles to her cheeks. “Evka placed you to be this position’s first line of defense,” she snapped without preamble. “Instead, you carved a nice line for those exploding darkspawn to run right up to us.” He was so damn tired, and the fact that she was right soured his tongue. He shrugged. “I got carried away—” “Listen,” Harding interrupted, her scoff withering, “I get it, sleeping with the boss is complicated—trust me, the Inquisition was a mess. But everyone did their jobs, alright? Solas broke it off with the Inquisitor and then she defeated Corypheus. What’s your excuse?” Anger surged in Lucanis’s gut, overwhelming the shame. He was a Crow, the First fucking Talon, being lectured by a jumped-up scout of a decade-old war about failing orders he should never have been tasked with. Assassins didn’t hold fortifications—they went out and they killed, and he had done that. The bodies he’d left in his wake were each one less monster she and her Wardens had had to deal with. He’d done them all a favor.)

The actual violence I wanted to he rushing, fluid, and non-specific—Lucanis fully in a flow state, let completely off the chain, all of his anguish able to go somewhere, finally—but as soon as it's over it's all wrong again. He and Harding are kind of both right (this is the opposite of anything he's ever had to do; but also he had a job he didn't care about and that could have gotten a lot of people killed) but he's so ruined coming off of the last few chapters there's nothing in him but self-loathing and anger.

Also I'm personally really amused about Harding basically sneering "skill issue" here, since she lived through the soap opera mess of the Inquisition.

The stones were uncaring beneath his feet, but they bore him upwards like friends all the same; at the top, suspended over Lavendel, the crumbling wall under his hands told of long years standing silent vigil. He joined it in staring down on the seething wetlands below.

I just really like this passage. I think The stones were uncaring beneath his feet, but they bore him upwards like friends all the same was a line that dropped fully formed out of my head, one of those where I wrote it and then kind of blinked in amazement for a bit.

Emmrich and Bellara were the first to reach the forecourt, their complement of Wardens drifting, dazed, behind them. “—in some manner; there were certainly harmonics to the ambient Fade that I couldn’t quite decipher,” the professor was saying, hands moving through the air as if conducting a symphony. “It’s certainly for the best it’s been quelled, but I should have dearly loved a chance to listen in more closely.” “Ohh, maybe ask Antoine if any of his samples are still talking? Whispering? I mean, I guess that might be bad…”

This fic was so hyperfocused on Rook and Lucanis, who were in their turn hyperfocused on themselves and each other, that I didn't get a lot of opportunity to write The Crew, and I just really like the character voices I got here :). Also the implication that their Wardens aren't dazed at the battle so much as at having a front row seat to these two.

She was pale under plastered mud and ichor and held her left arm carefully across her chest with her right, flinching visibly with the impact of every slow step. The line of her shoulders looked wrong, and she moved with the trembling tension of one holding pain at bay by their fingernails; Taash all but carried her as they mounted the last steps of the Hold. The knowledge she was wounded—gravely enough to need support, no way to know how badly—burned through him like a coal placed on a stack of paper. It tried to take her. Spite, beside him, craned forward toward Rook as he wasn't able to, its fingers and face twitching in distress. The song called. The rot sang back. It TRIED. To TAKE HER. Lucanis flinched at his demon’s anguished shout, and Rook’s eyes swung to him as if pulled by the motion. They were bright with pain, but beyond that in the washed-sky depths there was something new, raw, howling in desperate loss. Deep in his chest, something else howled back.

Whoops realized literally while reading through to do commentary that I stole my own coal imagery for my Tearstone before-and-after twoshot, but while that fic's line is better I swore to myself I wouldn't let myself get dragged into any kind of content edits.

ANYWAY!

I am 100% certain Lucanis knows every line and plane of Rook by heart long before they admit anything to each other, which I just think is so very romantic. Beyond that, I wanted this to be filled with the almost unbearable tension of his need to be there vs how impossible-to-bridge the distance is between them right now. They're both so fundamentally wounded here.

His nails scraped over the pitted stone, the pain as they caught and tore sharp enough to make his breath hitch. Good. He pressed at the ragged beds all the way home, each flush of pain a penance as the vertigo of almosts swirled.

This was one of the moments where @adejareve and I spiderman-pointed at each other because breaking-nails-against-stone-panic-attack is so? specific? and yet we have two nickles.

Once, he’d been able to retreat from even the worst jobs and trainings to a sanctuary: the hypocaust-heated baths of Villa Dellamorte. With so few relations left, they’d always been echoing quiet, nearly expansive enough to swim in, and blessedly fucking private. Even with Illario in the same house, he’d always been able to find time alone to float, limbs akimbo and weightless, as the water leached the day's aches from his muscles.  No team. No demon. No Rook. Maybe he'd been lonely, but he'd been at peace.

Holding his face. Sweetheart. Angel. Sensory deprivation tank as your only refuge: maybe? not good?? I don't remember how I got to this idea (I think it was working backwards from how awful the thought of the noisy crowded Lighthouse baths were) but as soon as I put it down I went oh ):

His voice came back to him off the screens and walls, and he put his head in his filthy hands. Water ran down his face.

This is very quietly one of my favorite lines. It's so obvious in its imagery its almost embarrassing, but: I am cringe but I am free. It also provides a lovely little arc to the closing of this scene: He went back to work on the muck on his skin. It gave up eventually, and he dressed himself with clean hands. Mwah, good job me.

The word. The thing you can't say. It is SO BRIGHT. But it festers. Wants to turn black. I don't WANT IT TO. Under the ringing bell of its shout, its next quiet words were nearly lost. I want the bright thing. Leaden weight settled over Lucanis at the small, plaintive voice, another stone to his collection of sins. He bent further toward the water's changeable surface. “I'm sorry,” he whispered into his hands. “I know. You should not be burdened with me.” I shouldn't, Spite agreed readily. But its voice was almost tender as it added, But then I wouldn't know Rook.

It was… really surprising to me, how somewhere in the writing of this fic Spite became the emotional crux and steady center of the whole mess? I think the previous chapter was where it became inescapable. It was not an original part of my intent at all but it developed as I wrote, and it became such a natural and obvious part of the story that by this exchange I was nearly in tears because Spite loves Rook so much but is completely at the mercy of Lucanis when it comes to her.

I set this after Inner Demons, but similarly to having everything fall apart post romance lock, my thought was: just because a turning point has been reached, doesn't mean that everything is resolved. Lucanis and Spite are no longer fighting against each other as a baseline, but Lucanis still has all of his control and self-control and selfishness!! issues. The founding conflict in Crumbs is Spite getting fed up with Lucanis refusing to let it have any access to Rook. It doesn't understand sex, but it does understand Lucanis feels good because of Rook, and he makes Rook feel good and I think it's a pretty natural step to I want to make Rook feel good, and I want Rook to make me feel good. It doesn't understand why any of the sex they subsequently have from that point feels both good and very very bad and it doesn't understand why there's more and more distance between them, because it's fucking obvious?? that they love each other???? And it feels it all so, so keenly but will never get to actually experience it if Lucanis doesn't stop pushing away the very idea of love for himself to hard that Spite doesn't even know the word.

Spite having to bootstrap itself into having mortal-appropriate emotional intelligence because its roommate and its love are too fucking stupid (traumatized) to get there themselves will never not be funny to me, but also, actually, really heart-achingly bittersweet.

But he stepped forward instead, helplessly drew nearer even as his gut twisted. His demon, satisfied, moved ahead of him. It reached out a hand as if to brush through Rook’s hair, and the force of its tenderness swept through Lucanis in a rush that weakened his knees to uselessness.  He sank onto the cot next to hers, hands clenched to keep from touching her.

Once again, Spite being unselfconscious with its love and affection, unable to truly touch her, while Lucanis is a bystander. How much of these very mortal gestures did Spite learn from the three seconds where Rook and Lucanis were good, vs from the wants and dreams and locked-down impulses in Lucanis's brain? Answer: whichever hurts the most :)

The word. It is too big to say, Spite murmured, bending to brush its insubstantial lips possessively to Rook's temple. She shifted and mumbled as if she'd felt it. Lucanis's heart filled his throat. His demon's eyes swung up to meet his. It shouts in your voice. But you. Won't. Say it. “I can't,” he whispered. Even to his own ears, his voice was pitiful. You WON’T. The sharp correction was delivered without rancor, but it still stung. You won’t. Neither will she.  “She—?” Like a flawed jewel shifting before a flame, the shape of things changed, and light flashed where there had been nothing but cracks. If he’d been standing, he would have staggered. His demon nodded to see the first glimmers of understanding. Caterina had so nodded the first time he’d held a knife like it was a part of his hand instead of a tool. Finally, that nod said. About time.

Local idiot realizes he's been in love this whole time. Astronaut pointing gun meme. I joke because even though I wrote this scene it still makes my heart hurt. Spite:love :: Caterina:knife comparison, jesus christ past-me.

I am Spite. I like to hurt. I’m MADE to hurt. Its teeth flashed, wide and dangerous. But when it continued, its nasal grate was not threatening. It spoke slowly and carefully. Exasperated. You and Rook—you AREN’T made to. Hurting hurts the bright thing. You don’t want to. So DON’T. You’ll ruin it. Stupid mortals.

Pulling this out specifically because I love this passage and I remember it being so hard to get it right. The point I wanted to make about Spite being made to hurt (and is it the outward or inward version of that verb? yes. as Determination or Spite? also yes.) vs whatever the fuck Lucanis was doing to himself/Rook wound up being very delicate, and for a while there was a longer speech about it. But I got there in the end, and it's wound up as one of my enduring favorite bits of Spite ever. Stupid mortals.

It had never occurred to him that his bold Warden might be as ruined as him under her sure steps and steady hands. It had never made sense why her walls tasted of fear, when he was the one whose terror still woke him breathless in the night.

He's so, so self-centered in his trauma. He's the broken one, he's the reason this is all ruined. In my own experience with depression/emotional abuse/~*mental illness*~, taking all responsibility and blame—needing it to all be yours—is a way to assert control, and in my opinion Lucanis at his core is all about the need for control. There's also more than a little idealization/idolization of Rook happening here, which is extra [rubs temples] given what we see in her POV chapters.

The good thing they’d barely brushed fingertips against—it had been too much, too precious to handle right with their blunt and violent hands, so they’d tried to simply break it because then at least they could say they did it on purpose. It wasn’t a failure if you never tried.

Thesis statement. This is specifically a dawning understanding of Rook, since she acted pretty deliberately to bait him and he responded with pure unconsidered reaction. He's just now getting in front of it.

He loved Rook. And Spite seemed to be certain she loved him back. Silently, eyes wide, wondering, Lucanis wept. The pain wasn’t gone. If anything, it was keener, sharper, pushing out of his chest and up his throat and against his eyes and through his whole body until it seemed that every nerve screamed. Lucanis couldn’t breathe for it, his throat worked as he choked on it, he pressed the heel of one hand to his mouth and bit down to keep from howling with it; his tears traced stinging, cold lines down his cheeks before getting lost in his beard. His ribs were not strong enough to hold it all. And yet; and yet; and yet, before his eyes, breathing peacefully, Rook slept. He had not lost her. He could tell her his bright word. If she could not say it back, well. He’d followed the sweeps of the sun and moon and stars across the vault all his life, and had never needed them to return his devotions. Spite left him to his awe, satisfied, humming just beyond hearing as it ran the tips of its unreal nails in gentle circles across her cheek.

All jokes about Lucanis crying are good and correct here, but that aside I wanted to talk about how actually accepting that a good thing is before him—and it's his responsibility to reach out for it—is more immediately and deeply painful for Lucanis than any of the previous awfulness was in the moment. His misery has all been his fault, in his head, but in reality so much of the bad in his life has happened to him, because he hasn't had control, and he has just taken it on the chin and kept going. He never was given much agency and then as an adult he more and more relinquished or refused the little he had.

To strip all of the self-deception away and realize there is a choice he has to make, deliberately, is awful. (Because among other things it must make him wonder how much he's lost by not reaching out. Illario, maybe? Truly letting Teia, raised nearly as a sister, love him? to love her in return?) And that is ssssssssso tasty, to me.

Anyway that's chapter 10! I didn't include absolutely everything because this is already so, so long. If there are any specific bits you wanted to chew on, Nim—or if there's anything that anyone else wants me to go into with anything else I've written!—lemme know, and I'll cue it up for next Tuesday.