corvitality

[corvitality]

I’ve seen people explore the idea that Spite protects Lucanis and Rook from their nightmares, and I agree wholeheartedly. And I think this would also extend to their children.

Can you imagine being a little kid in the middle of a nightmare and a glowing version of your dad shows up and annihilates the scary things? They would love him.

Even after Lucanis has died (after a long, happy life, thank you) and Spite has returned to the Fade, he continues to protect them and their descendants.

Any mage in the bloodline never has to fear possession; Spite won’t allow it. He tells every generation stories of the previous ones but especially stories about Lucanis and Rook. Over long years in the Fade, he reverts more and more to his original nature. He becomes a confidante of sorts, offering advice and encouragement, and the Dellamorte family gains a reputation for their stubborn determination to accomplish any task, no matter how daunting.

But every once in a while, he offers advice to his current favorite that is just a little spiteful, and his glowing eyes flicker purple as he gives them a wink.

[corvitality]

The Dreadwolf and the Spirit of Disruption

❝Disruption fought to the last, and it was all for nothing.❞

In its final moment, the spirit of disruption met the Dread Wolf's cold gaze from afar--and understood, with quiet despair, that its life had been nothing more than a means to an end.

Based on this post and the "Disrupt and Conquer" quest

[corvitality]

a succession of wolves

[corvitality]

Why am I suddenly obsessed with the idea of a forgiven Illario being gravely wounded in the last battle?

Like he stumbles his way back to where the Crows have gathered, covered in blood and grime and gore, and he wants to cry with relief when Teia rushes to his side. She has to hold up almost all of his weight as she leads him to one of the few empty cots left in their field hospital. And then she leaves him and he wants to cry again, near delirious with pain and blood loss and an all-consuming dread that his end is waiting, just out of sight, to swallow him whole.

The minutes trickle by, and as he lies there, surrounded by the moans of the other dying and gasping for breath that can barely squeeze through the agony, he starts to think that maybe this was how it was always meant to happen. That maybe he was destined to die alone and unmourned, just another body on a mass pyre. When he begins to fade in and out of consciousness, he's grateful because he's no longer aware of every second counting down until his last.

In one brief flicker, he hears voices above him, muffled and far away as if he's underwater.

"—wasn't like this when I left him, I swear, Lucanis."

"Get a healer. Now."

-------

In the next, he's fairly sure he's still dreaming because he's wrapped in a blanket and curled in a wheelbarrow of all things being pushed by a qunari of all people.

-------

When he wakes again, he barely notices because the room he's in is so dark. He's lying on a soft bed, and a black silhouette watches him from the shadows just outside the circle of banked firelight.

"Lucanis?" he croaks. Every inch of his skin feels soaked through with cold sweat, but his throat is so, so dry.

The silhouette leans forward to reveal a pointed beard and a pointed gaze that had always seemed to accuse him, even before he had committed any of his crimes.

Illario sighs, too tired now to feel the panic of before. "Here to... finish me off?"

He's already drifting when Viago answers.

"If I were here to kill you, you wouldn't have woken up."

-------

The next time he opens his eyes, pale grey light fills the room, filtered through gauzy curtains. Both he and the world feel more solid. He's not in his own suite in the villa but a smaller room in the guest wing. And the man sitting at his bedside is, as ever, the person he most and least wants to see in the world.

"You're going to live," Lucanis states, and his voice and his expression hold no clue as to how he feels about that.

A huff of wry laughter escapes Illario. "My apologies."

That prompts the tiniest of furrows in his cousin's brow. "Why were you there? No one expected you." The furrow deepens. "Were you even fighting for our side?"

The jibe should sting, but Illario feels as if all of the aches and weariness from every moment of his life have settled deep into his bones. "I killed Venatori. Even a few darkspawn."

"So you betrayed your allies again?" Lucanis sighs. His exhaustion is clear in the slump of his shoulders and the circles beneath his eyes.

"The Venatori were never my allies."

Lucanis straightens at that, showing a little of the fire that Illario had always wished he would. "You were going to let them into Trevsio."

"I wasn't going to let them stay. After they pushed out the Antaam and protected us from the gods, we could have gotten rid of them."

"And the blood magic?" Lucanis accused.

"I needed to be able to defend myself."

"From me?" his cousin demanded, a spark of violet flickering in his eyes. "Or your Venatori lover?"

Illario lets his eyes fall closed. "She was just a tool. They were all just tools."

"That's all you see, isn't it? You look at the world, and instead of people, you see only tools to be used."

"Of course," Illario agrees. He opens his eyes and almost laughs to see the look of surprise on Lucanis's face. "Just as we were taught, no? Even we were only tools to Caterina."

He settles deeper into the pillows, the pull of sleep tugging his eyelids down again. "But maybe being the favorite tool was almost like being human."

For a few long moments, only the crackling in the fireplace answers him. He expects to hear the creak of the chair and Lucanis's fading footsteps at any moment.

Instead he hears a quiet murmur. "It wasn't."

The low tone is a hook in Illario's heart. Even decades later, he can hear the echoes of shared secrets in the nights after hard days, when he would sneak into Lucanis's room and curl up on his floor so they could commiserate in their mutual misery. He struggles to breathe around the tears that prick his eyelids and tighten his throat, the effort just as wrenching as trying to breathe through the pain of his wound.

And he thinks then that he has not learned his lesson, that maybe he will never learn his lesson. Because if some power alighted in that room and promised to send him back to those years, even if it meant that Thedas would suffer blight and war and demons and elvhen gods all over again with no guarantee of a repeated victory...

He wouldn't hesitate for a moment.

[corvitality]

I adore it whenever rook rests their hands on their hips like a handyman or mechanic about to deliver some bad news as to how much the repairs are going to come in at. the hero equivalent of a plumber. they're out there saving the world with the gently beleaguered air of an overworked janitor and I quite simply love that for them

[corvitality]

Bellara "WHAT IF WE PUT GUNS ON IT!?" Lutare

I love how low key unhinged she is. "Oh i would have made the giant skeleton with more arms!" "WE NEED TO PUT LASERS ON THE LIGHTHOUSE"

[corvitality]

Prison of Regret cut content

According to the devnotes in the text file, the prison was originally different from what we see in the game. Rook first wandered in the darkness, then along a bloody path among fallen comrades. In the end, the path was supposed to lead to the Demon of Regret who could change its appearance and voice to put pressure on Rook. There was a choice to confront it or give in.

Alone in the Dark Rook awakes in darkness, alone. Chains appear to have attached themselves to Rook. Attempting to gain a bearing, Rook starts to hear a voice. The voice sounds like Solas, but different. A path appears before them. Rook attempts to get answers from the voice while following the trail. Blood Leading the Blind The path resembles blood dripping over the edge of a cliff. The trail disappears after rook moves forward. The Voice returns to inform Rock they have swapped places with Solas. Rook Demands answers, but is taunted in return. A small light appears at the end of the path. Reaching the Light fills the screen with white. A still image of Solas appears when the white fades. He is striding out of a opening in the fade. This scene is identical to the one where Rock was moments ago. Approaching Solas triggers a banter about Solas with the voice. Approaching the Portal triggers a banter about the prison. Reminded of the Lost The set pieces fade away into the darkness, the path continues beyond. Escaped, but the battle has just begun. Figures come into view as Rook travels down the path. They are the fallen followers from the Ghilan'nain's battle, Frozen in their death throes. The scene is frozen in time capturing the moments Rooks followers died along with a scene of Ghilan'nain. Taunted by the Lost The followers that died taunt rook. Banter will play as players fumble around the space and while they progress down the path. Banter line about the First Fallen Follower Banter line about the Second Fallen Follower Another flash of white fills the screen. The mighty have Fallen Rook finds themselves on the walls of Weisshaupt. Similar to earlier, the scene is frozen in time. Rook walks the ramparts with the still battle around them. The voice speaks of moments from the battle. Banter line about Ghilan'nain. Manipulation Manifest The voice asks why Rook is here. Rook responds by mentioning Varric. The scene fades away. Rook finds themselves on another trail, however this time there is a doorway at the end outlined in the darkness. Passing through the doorway leaves Rook inside Varrics room. Suddenly the furniture and the walls will fall away, revealing a pile of rocks. Approaching the rocks triggers the Varric Reveal scene. First/second/third/fourth banter of characters. Get the Characters speaking about Varric. Challenge the Demon of Regret by walking towards it. Regret Changes its appearance and voice to imitate characters Rook has interacted with in an attempt to stop Rook in their tracks. Changes again to another character. Changes to one last character. Within the Conversation there are non-standard game overs depending on which response is chosen. Give-in to Regret Confront Regret Approaching the Demon, Rook overcomes their regret. Triggering the outro cine. Rook emerges from the Prison, where all their followers await them. After the hugs and jubilation, the group sets off to stop Solas and Elgar'nan will new found determination.

The text also contains some lines from the dialogue with the demon.

----------

What is this! Is someone there! Hello! Rook. Solas? Solas, you...! It's like... walking against a wall. Follow the line, I guess. Where does this lead?

What... what am I seeing? It's what you chose. The tipping point. What are you? What's the point of this? This is the truth of your actions. Your tipping point.

The moment of freedom. A god walks free, because another took his place. Someone who played the role. Solas built a cage that could hold the gods. You trapped him, but were also his way out. You're not Solas. What are you? Another god? I am the lock on this prison.

Keep going, Rook. It's a long way back. Back? To what...? I'm not moving without answers! I deserve answers. You will get what you deserve.

You're more like Solas than you know. It's the blood on your hands. What blood? Show me!

Neve/Bellara? No. You're fake, like Solas.

(Neve banter) I fought for you, Rook. You led me to this. She'd call me Trouble, make some joke to hide how she feels. She wasn't fighting for me. She wouldn't say that.

(Bellara banter) Was this what I fought for, Rook? Was it worth it? She'd never say that. Every moment was worth it. She knew why she was fighting. Didn't need me to tell her.

You're not her. Not real. Live long enough, the only thing that's real is what you've lost.

(Harding banter) I did everything for you, Rook. And then you left me. Lace would blame herself. That would hurt more. Her voice, but she'd never try to hurt someone like that. You don't know her. Not like I did.

(Davrin banter) I saved you, Rook. What was the point? That's not how he'd challenge me. How he'd tease me about it. He'd have saved anyone. Done it for the challenge alone. You don't know him. Not like I did.

If the pain is great enough, appearances can be all that matter.

You're stealing these voices. If this is the Fade, are you a demon? I am Regret. The Regret of a god. And you are a speck that I will consume forever. You feed me regardless.

Wardens, hold the wall! This is our house! Hold that wall, Wardens! Push them back!

A face in the sky. Like no Blight before. The Mother of Monsters.  Like no Blight before.

That's Weishaupt. I saved the Wardens. You saved some of the Wardens. And they're dead, aren't they.

I came to warn them. Their plan wasn't going to work. I tried to warn them. The gods changed everything. They didn't know about the gods. Why were you here? I told you, to warn them. That's what you came to do, not why you were here.

But why you, Rook? Because I trapped Solas. Because Varric—

Why show me this? To make me give up?

Ascend. What? Rise to match the gods. Rise above those who died. See why you lead.

You won't keep me here! Said it yourself, this cage is for gods! I'm not like them! Not like Solas! "A cage built for gods." Or mortals with delusions.

I'll get out, you know. I get out of things. Solas got out. Stubborn. Another thing you and Solas share. Another? What's the first? The regret. The blood on your hands.

You want to know how he swapped places with you? How your regret could match his? Every choice you've made, you owe to this. This is the moment that put lives in your hands. Welcome to your cage. The moment why you lead.

When Varric showed you the cost of leadership. And the god of lies regretfully killed him. He was always...? Always.

The first fight against Solas? Varric is still... Right where you left him. This... is the moment Varric died. But this regret isn't mine.

The god of lies abhors blood magic, but made an exception for you. He had to do it. You made him do it. Varric died at that ritual. You didn't want to face it. And with a little blood magic, you didn't have to. The moment Solas used. When the blood on your hands clouded your mind. Solas was trapped in his own cage, but if your regret grew, he could escape. Only by trading you. Shaping you. Until your regret matched his. So Varric lived on, in your mind, until it could hit you all at once. This is the end. When he traded his regret for yours. This is the very real loss that let Solas swap his regret... for yours.

Regret is the price we pay for acting when no one else will. That's what leaders say. When they get people killed for the greater good. When they toy with lives.

It was lies. The whole time... I was toyed with. Lied to.

This mistake. This failure. And it can never be undone.

Do you see? How everyone says one thing, but you hear another? (Laughs.) Poor "injured" Varric.

(demon shows Rook memories of the companions?) [TEMP] Mementos - Lucanis [TEMP] Mementos - Bellara [TEMP] Mementos - Harding [TEMP] Mementos - Davrin [TEMP] Mementos - Taash [TEMP] Mementos - Neve [TEMP] Mementos – Emmrich

It's just you. Alone. Always alone.

Give up. Lucanis has only spite for you. Give up. Emmrich could never love you. Give up. Die. Taash doesn't care. Give up. Harding deserved better. Give up. Neve deserved better than you. Give up. Bellara needed better than you. Give up. Davrin deserved more than you.

Give up. Your fortune is wasted. End it. Give up. Die. No one will mourn you. Give up. Die behind the Veil. Give up. End this contract. You failed. Give up. You failed your calling. Die. Give up. Fade like the failed shadow you are.

Give up. You're a poor example of your kind. Give up. You failed what's left of the elves. Give up. Your time in the sun is over.

Give up. You can't fight your way out of failure. Give up. Your magical powers can't help you. Give up. There's no evading this death.

Give up. You're alone in the dark, like you deserve. Give up. You could never match those who came before you. Give up. Death is the only role you deserve. Give up. There's no point in even trying. Give up. Die. Like Solas knew you would. Give up. This is what your failure deserves. Give up. No one believed in you. End it.

You're right. I can't go on. I can't deal with the loss. Lies win in the end. Regret is too much to bear. It's too much... There's nothing...

I give up. I failed Harding/Neve/Bellara/Lucanis/Davrin/Taash/Emmrich.

I give up. I'm no Shadow Dragon/Warden/ Veil Jumper/Mourn Watcher/ Lord of Fortune. I give up. I failed the Crows.

I yield. I failed as a human/elf/qunari/dwarf.

I'm a failure as a mage/warrior/rogue.

I give up. I have no one. I failed the heroes before me.

Delicious.

I'll face regret. Keep going.

Things always seem impossible. Just fight one battle at a time. You're not in this alone. Go on, Rook. It was always you. You got this. You know bullshit when you smell it, and that demon is full of it.

Varric?

How dare you make me lose him twice! Using Varric was a mistake. If you really knew what Varric meant, you wouldn't have used him. You didn't take his voice. You couldn't, could you? Because it's always been a comfort! "Things always seem impossible. Just fight one battle at a time." "I know I can handle this." "It's not a personal failing to be scared!" "I'm not in this alone." What are you doing? Varric knew the risks. Knew what it might cost. I didn't lose him. Solas killed him! Solas did this, and he'll pay! You think you can break me with what I've lost? What Solas took? I don't regret this. But gods be damned, Solas will! He built this prison, not me! Solas lied, made me lie to myself! I won't be caged by what he did! I can see through the regret. I see through you! I can regret, but keep going! That loss might have ended me! But not now! You think you can hold me? That you're the first regret to try? I have friends to fight for! And no regret will keep me from them! I get beat up. Get sad. That's what life does. It hurts, and then I get back up! All I can do is keep going! All I can do is keep trying! Varric chose me. Saw something worthwhile! You're damned right he's why I'm here! I can't regret what he did for me! More time with him was a gift! All you've done is remind me why I try. The value of the friends I have left! Shown me how much I need them! I know they're waiting for me! You think you can keep me from them! You think you can keep me here? Keep me from what matters? All of this hurts, but you're wrong about me! I'm not alone! Not in my heart! I found love! That's my light in the dark! Nothing can keep us apart! Not gods! Not you! I regret nothing about the time we had. Nothing! (Growl!)

[corvitality]

Spite's poetry is eating me alive. What do you mean a demon writes poetry while his host is asleep. What do you mean he describes himself as a fraction of what he once was.

"a PEACE cut from the ALL" A PEACE. A peace. Not piece. He was content once. Rememburnings. The memory of what he used to be burns. An infinity instead of a small shade.

What do you mean he feels like a hooked claw into Lucanis's gut. What do you mean he can feel the joy from Lucanis when they drink coffee because Lucanis wiggles his toes. A small shade and a wounded spirit sitting together oh my fucking god

[corvitality]

clingy demon

[corvitality]

Spite's Sight

but what if Spite could sense that Solas is manipulating Rook about Varric, but doesn't know how to explain it? He could sense the blood magic from Illario, but Solas is a masterclass mage, able to cover his tracks. What if Spite tried his best, but couldn't explain what he sensed?

-

"Rook. Smells wrong. Like not Rook."

"Spite, that is very rude. I apologize, Rook."

"No, he's not wrong, I mean, we were just in the swamp..."

-

"Twisted. Doesn't see. Not. Right!"

"Hello there, Spite."

"Forgive us. He says these strange things at times."

-

"Isn't. There. Not. There!"

"I wish I knew what he meant. He sounds so upset when he says things like that."

"Sigh... Spite always sounds upset."

-

Lucanis's logbook, 6

mirror MIRRORmemberings red ribbons drip drip splash empty echoes empty room ssssspeaking a dirty TRICK

-

And when Rook realizes, when they learn what's been done to them...

"He was never there. You knew, didn't you, Spite?"

"Wrong words. Couldn't say. Trying!"

"I... I did not understand. I am so sorry, Rook."

"Thank you, Lucanis... thank you, Spite."

[corvitality]

Rook being a very physically touchy person and Lucanis avoiding touch at all costs from built up trauma from childhood, his work as a Crow, and the Ossuary. Them always asking for Lucanis' permission to touch him, and before Tearstone Island, they hug him and he still flinches but he holds them tight

As Rook is taken into the Regret prison and they see a vision of Lucanis' body on the ground, they scream his name out of concern and fear but all Lucanis hears is them screaming for him to help, and then they're gone. They're gone. He thinks they were screaming his name, begging him to save them and now they're gone.

Weeks into Rook being taken into the Regret prison and now a man who couldn't be touched without reflexively drawing a blade is craving the warmth of his partner who he thinks he'll never see again

Lucanis pulling Rook out of the prison, knowing it's them right away because of their hands. He missed their hands, he missed their touch, he missed their warmth, he missed them.

When Rook gets back, Lucanis' touch is slow and soft, almost unbelieving. Weeks of stress and torture and pain and guilt and regret, and now they're here. Once they're finally together, he feels as though the world is in their arms and if killing a god is the only way to stay there, he will do what a Crow does best and fulfill this contract

[corvitality]

the victory ball

[corvitality]

no im not thinking constantly about the early game hilarity of when its just the ladies of da:v lounging around the dining room watching a freshly freed Lucanis bus about the stoves making food for his new strange flock of poorly fed women.

[corvitality]

What home smells like (Crossroads comments)

Note: judging by the audio I extracted and the conversation file, Bellara and Taash don't have lines for that event (if they actually have lines and I missed them, pls lmk).

Rook: That scent… I can't place it. Neve: For a moment… it smelled like Dock Town after it rains. Lucanis: Coffee. Like Illario and I smelled in the kitchen where we grew up. But that cannot be right. Harding: That's my ma's apple cake! But… how? Davrin: That's smoke from my old clan's campfire. But… how do I even know that? Emmrich: It's reminiscent of the mortuary's perfumes, but… ah. Of course. Emmrich: There's small enchantments around this place. From the old elves, welcoming their kindred home.

My DAVG Extracted Audio Masterlist

[corvitality]

Bellara and Davrin giving money to a poor elven man in Treviso

Davrin: Uncle. I think I saw you drop a few coins back there. Here you go. Elven man: I... Yes. Thank you, young warrior. Thank you very much.

Bellara: Sorry. My clan has been hungry a few times, and... well, here. For your family. Elven man: Thank you, child. Thank you very much.

My DAVG Extracted Audio Masterlist

[corvitality]

ooh and 97 + 99 for Lenore

Soooo....this one got away from me too haha. I have no defense for myself except this prompt had to be for this scene. It's long, so it gets a poem too.

So, for 97. Reunion and 99. Longing/Yearning for Lenore, here is a bit of the regret prison:

Gently They Go

(Lucanis/Rook Ingellvar | 1,737 Words | CW: Discussions of death and grief, major plot spoilers)

“Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know.  But I do not approve.  And I am not resigned.” —Edna St. Vincent Millay, “Dirge Without Music”

Rook never could say if she felt time passing in the prison sealed by regret. 

Of everyone she’d let down—and there were far more than she’d realized, each of them harder to bear—this one was the worst. The hardest. She would have to stand soon, she knew; whatever was left of her team needed her. She could not linger here, just as she hadn’t been able to linger with Bellara or Lace. Soon, she would have to stand and walk away. There was no other choice.

“I’m sorry,” she told Lucanis. 

He lay on the flagstone, eyes open and unseeing. His hand, when she took it, was as cold as any corpse she’d handled. She had never had a chance to tell him—had never said—

“I loved you, you know,” Lenore went on. 

When she reached for him, her hand shook. 

“I didn’t realize for a long time. I never thought I could love—not like this. You were always so kind to me. Kind—such a simple word. Not very romantic, I suppose.”

His skin felt real, the beard neatly trimmed and soft under her hand. She rested her palm there a moment, looking down at him. She would never hear his voice again; would never watch him spar early in the morning.

“The cost was too high,” she told him softly. “I can’t imagine what could be worth this.”

His eyes were still open, just barely entering the first cloudy stages after death. She hated that she knew that; she hated that she knew when his muscles would stiffen, when lividity would set in. For the first time in her life, she wished for ignorance, wished that she had not spent so long among the dead that she had not known how to share her time with the living. 

Lucanis looked up at a sky that didn’t exist. Lenore knew this wasn’t really him, knew his body had been left behind somewhere on Tearstone Island. Still, it felt wrong to leave even a false version of him like this. Carefully, gently, she removed her glove and closed his eyes. His beautiful eyes; they had been so warm when he’d spoken to her. So soft, when he’d kissed her at last. She had thought she must be dreaming, that someone could look at her like that. 

His eyes were closed forever. She let her fingertips rest there for a moment, if only because she could not bring herself to let go and walk away. She wondered where Spite was now. She wondered if he was free and happier for it or if he had ceased to exist when Lucanis had. Two losses in one. She did not know how anyone could bear the weight of this. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, and scrubbed her elbow over her face when she might have given in to the urge to weep. 

When she had been very little, when she had not yet understood the world above the Necropolis, Lenore had made a friend of Grief. She knew Grief better than any other in the world, for where might Grief dwell more concretely than the greatest of graveyards? Who might Grief take comfort in if not a child alone, one abandoned by all who should have kept her close?

All of her life, she had confided in Grief. She had called it Sorrow for the longest time because she’d had only a child’s words for what it meant to face a loss this great. 

She understood now why Grief had told her that they had never truly met, never would truly meet until she had known loss. This—this horrible, consuming thing in her chest went far beyond sorrow. If she stayed here on her knees, if she held its hand forever, she would never be anything but grief. She would never leave this place, and the world would be lost. 

“I love you, Lucanis,” she whispered, and smoothed her hand back over his hair until it was neat and smooth again. “I love you. I’m sorry; I’m so sorry.”

Lenore forced herself to stand, clutching her glove in one hand. One step, another; he was no more than a statue now, just like all the others. She wanted to scream, wanted to rend her clothing and shear off every lock of hair. She understood now why people did such things; it should change you, grief, should be painted on every inch of skin, should be the discordant tone humming beneath every note. 

She was a Mourn Watcher—or had been, once. Was it not her right to mourn?

“When it’s done,” she told herself. “When it’s done.”

Her voice hardly brushed the silence of this place, the loneliness thick in the air. When all of this was done, she would mourn what she had lost, what she had never held as tightly as she should have. Now, she scrubbed her hand over her face, slid her glove back on, and walked away. 

|

Lucanis did not pull Rook from the Fade. 

Emmrich was the one who reached for her, the one who dragged her through at last. Lucanis was just the one who caught her limp body and carried it to the ground, for he’d crowded so close that nobody else could catch her. 

“Rook,” he said, and believed her dead for a moment even though Spite was shouting that she lived. “Rook, can you hear me?”

Her hand moved first, twitching, and then her face turned away. 

“This…is cruel,” she said. Her voice was ragged, as one waking from a long sickness. “Even…for you, Solas.”

“Rook—Lenore—it’s me,” he said. The others were saying something behind him; he did not care what. He shrugged someone off when they touched his shoulder. 

“Look at me,” he said, and impatiently dragged his glove off with his teeth when he remembered that his other hand was occupied. The leather was cast aside carelessly; he did not know where. It did not matter.

Rook’s skin was warm, living, and when he touched it she opened her eyes at last. 

“Lucanis,” she said, but there was a wealth of sorrow to the words, a fortune of loss. 

“I have you,” he said. “I am here.”

“I’m sorry,” she said; she seemed almost not to hear him, and her eyes skidded away when he leaned closer. “I should’ve…I shouldn’t have…”

“Rook, you are free of that place,” Emmrich said, his voice calm. He knelt on the other side of her, tucking two fingers just under her jaw. “Can you hear me? Ingellvar. Come now; back straight. Now is no time to let your attention wander.”

She did seem more alert at that, back shifting under Lucanis’s hand. 

“Emmrich?” she said, and reached up to touch his face. The professor allowed this, leaning in to the touch. “But—you’re not dead.”

“Well,” Emmrich corrected, patting her shoulder. “Technically, that’s only half correct, my dear, though I do not think we should find ourselves caught up on such banal technicalities as that at a time like this.” 

“But—” she struggled and Lucanis loosened his grip on her even though he wanted nothing more than to clutch her to him. “But…if you’re here—”

Rook wheeled on him so abruptly that the ends of her hair struck his face. Lucanis held still, hand still resting on her back. He could feel her heartbeat through the fabric of her robes, could feel when it sped up against his palm. 

“You aren’t dead,” she said, and lifted her hand. It was shaking, he saw, and stopped perhaps an inch away from his face. Lucanis reached for it with the hand he’d bared, cradling her hand in his, and pressed it to his cheek. 

“I am not dead,” he told her. 

Her eyes were wild, more white than color, and she was shivering in his arms. 

“I’m here—we’re here,” Lucanis said. He had no idea what he might have said next because she was turning in his arms and kissing him, kissing him as if none of the others were there, as if she had never done it before. 

Lucanis kissed her back; what else could he do? She had been gone for so long he had begun to wonder if he would never see her again, if it was some kind of curse that he should lose everyone he’d ever loved before he understood what they meant to him. He kissed her as if it could make up for the sleepless nights, the pain of knowing he had never told her how he felt, of knowing that he had denied her the chance to do the same. 

Rook broke away when he could not, burying her face in his shoulder. She shook still, far more than she should have from emotion alone. Lucanis looked at Emmrich, alarmed, but the mage shook his head. 

“She will need to readjust,” he said. “We can wait a moment while her body adapts to this place again.”

“I thought—you were dead,” she mumbled into his shoulder. 

Lucanis wrapped his other arm around her, squeezing tightly. How real she felt in his arms; he had dreamed this a dozen times and woken to harsh reality instead, feet turned to destinations he could not identify, foreign words on his tongue. It was incredible that he could feel her now, that he could see her here. 

“I’m here,” he told her, turning his face against her neck and taking a deep breath. Her skin was warm and soft against his cheek. 

Smells like sorrow and regret and death, Spite said, caressing her hair though she could not feel it. We found her again. Just like you said you would.

“Yes,” he said, meeting Spite’s eyes and tightening his grip. “You’re here. I have you, Rook.”

He could not say how much time passed like that, with Rook clutched in his arms at the edge of the Fade, their friends gathered silently around them. At that moment, he did not care. 

It was a rare day when one was handed a second chance at correcting one’s greatest regret. Lucanis would seize this one with both hands while it was allowed to him. 

“I have you,” he said again, and closed his eyes. 

Whatever it took, he would make sure that she knew what she meant to him before they faced danger again. Knowing now how much there was to lose, he could do nothing else.

[corvitality]

Rookanis willing to fight gods for each other

(reaffirming my previous post about antivans - especially crows - just being like that)