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My Rook is the daughter of a laundress. Soaps, perfumes, detergents— Bird is proficient at creating them and uses it as her outlet for stress. The consequence is everyone gets a fresh bar of soap when things are tense. Not the worst outcome.

—Bracing spearmint and sandalwood blend for Taash. Hot and cold, perfect for their muscle aches from too many pull-ups. The sandalwood keeps it from smelling like liniment and gives it a grounding scent.

—Marshmallow and cozy amber for Bellara. Something fun and daring for the veil jumper but still down to earth and warm. Bird can almost hear her squealing in delight at the marshmallow note. Perhaps something cozy would coax Bellara to relax.

—Oranges and cinnamon for Harding. Bird figured it smelled like Wintersend in Fereldan. Harding always speaks of home, might as well smell like it too. Sometimes Harding’s stories keep a lingering, cozy smile on Bird’s face all day.

—Cedar and bergamot for Davrin. The smell of the forest, fresh air and memories of herding Halla. Mixed with the uplifting and daring scent of bergamot for the young warden. Bird has her nose in the soap all morning, it’s no coincidence she’d want the handsome man to smell so good.

—Smoky Clove and Black tea for Emmrich. Emmrich is homesick for the necropolis, Bird notices. She smokes the cloves to capture the odor of funerary incense, and grounds it with the calming fragrance of the tea Manfred brews. No, Taash, formaldehyde was not what she selected.

—Sea salt and crisp white flowers for Neve. It smells like the marine air of Docktown with an intense, soap-and-water clean note. Nostalgic, but still fresh and focused for the detective. The wisps seem to like it, unfortunately, and it sends a few more spinning around her.

—Lavender and Chamomile for Lucanis. Will the assassin ever sleep? The intoxicating blend Bird mixes almost puts her to sleep. She debated mixing in coffee beans, but he already smells of them. The purple of the lavender reminds her of Spite, too. Yes, Spite. The gift is for you too!

-Assan gets an unscented bar for Davrin to wash his feathers with. He thinks it’s a treat at first, and she has to snatch it away. No, Assan, this is not a truffle.

-Manfred gets a large block of soap and a knife. The soap cutting sounds delight him!

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Completed the romance chart posted on bluesky!

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Fuck you bioware I make my own canon.

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join the bunny rave

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Poor Emmrich. I’ve had a headcanon that (especially with Rook’s Chaos Gremlin energy) Rook and Lucanis wind up being the sort of “fun aunt and uncle” to Manfred, “load him up with sugar and sent him home to dad”-style. That includes encouraging his little imagination, and letting him pretend to be a rad little Crow when Emmrich isn’t looking. Sorry, Professor. Your kid’s too cute, it was bound to happen 🤣♥️

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Beautifully written as always

Letter from a Concerned Citizen

Most esteemed Professor Volkarin,

I hope my humble missive finds you well. I am proud to own a bakery on Garden Street in Nevarra City, and count your fellow Mourn Watchers among my elite clientele. While I was not personally present during a certain… incident at my establishment, when my clerks relayed it to me, I was most appalled and horrified at the besmirching of your good name, and felt compelled to warn you. Please do not be alarmed; I am certain a renowned necromancer such as yourself will be able to handle any danger! I merely wish to keep you informed.

Yesterday, a highly disturbed individual of a most foul countenance, quite unfitting for my reputable place of business, disturbed my employees’ peace and attempted to order a wedding cake. Despite, as I just noted, looking like a grotesque creature from the darkest recesses of the Fade — morbidly obese and wish a thuggish, disfigured face — the woman claimed that she was betrothed to none other than your illustrious self. Which, as you will certainly agree, is preposterous! I am well aware of your shining reputation in Nevarran high society as an elegant and refined gentleman, and it goes without saying that you would never stoop down to breathing the same air as this wicked abomination, let alone taking her as a monstrous mockery of a bride. Why she would approach my store with such a blatantly obvious lie, is beyond all reason, though it might be possible that she was desperately seeking an excuse to gorge her waddling, bloated self on one of my precious cakes.

Naturally, my clerks swiftly and resolutely showed her the door, and hastened to relay the incident to me. Whereas I, in turn, must pass the knowledge on to you, dear sir. Now you are armed with the knowledge that a, pardon the alliteration, lardy lunatic is shambling through the city, pretending to share a sacred, Maker-blessed bond with you —

The letter goes on, but the bottom half of the sheet has crumpled into a dark, brittle sliver of curling rags, as if singed by a sudden, angry burst of magic. The response has been scribbled hastily on its reverse side, in rapid, slanting quill strokes that have stabbed through the paper in multiple places.

Dear sir,

Your “missive” found me devastated — that I allowed myself to be called away on other business, and my dearest fiancée went to your “establishment” on her own. Were I beside her, I would have let you know what I think of you, then and there. As it stands, I shall merely say that myself and the love of my life would rather have our good friend Lace Harding make a cake for us, than ever set foot in your store — or indeed breathe the same air as you — ever again.

Good day.

In lieu of a signature, the paper has been inscribed with an elaborate glyph that, once beheld, would subject the reader to a haunting. The haunting is to last seven weeks, corresponding to the number of insults the addressee has highlighted in bold while reading.

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My favorite banter between these two. Have listened to it so many times I can almost quote it.

I promise I don't have a problem.

ihaveaproblem

Emmrich: The Lighthouse has been wonderful for Manfred. He’s progressing so quickly these days.

Davrin: Maybe. But can he fly like Assan?

Emmrich: He can open a door.

Davrin: Assan can track and kill darkspawn.

Emmrich: I’d rather Manfred learn to gather flowers.

Davrin: Assan can eat those flowers. He can also dive underwater and catch fish.

Emmrich: Manfred can be quiet and well-mannered.

Davrin: Yeah? Well...you know...Assan...

Emmrich: Go on.

Davrin: You’re raising your twin, Emmrich.

Emmrich: Well, I might say the same.

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Something that's gotten me thinking down the proverbial rabbit hole is the thought that Emmrich worries so much about not living long enough to spend all the time he wishes he could with Rook simply because he's older than them. I love that trope. I love the lovesick angst that he feels, and I love the comfort Rook's presence gives him.

But sometimes I think about his life experience. What would his life have been like if he had met Rook at a younger age? Would he appreciate them the way he does now? The romantic in me likes to think that their meeting was serendipitous, fated in the stars, and that every lover, every unrequited affection, every sleepless night imagining the person who would lie in his bed, who would love him like he'd love in return; each one of those experiences left their mark on his life, molding him into the man that he is when he meets Rook.

I like to think that the man we meet in the necropolis, who has called us “Dearest” and “Darling”, has grown into his later years appreciative of the journey he took to get to us. That his Odyssey is worth savoring purely for the reward of finding home.

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Shout out to otherpigeon for the awesome template!

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Emmrich and some Rooks WIP. With their creators permission, hopefully I'll be posting his chessboard. For now, please enjoy this family portrait of Emmrich, Korah and Manfred.

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it’s eunuch Tucker’s adoptiversary and defacto birthday today <3

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At some point, for some reason, Rook had misinterpreted the term 'letters'.

Perhaps it was because Bellara had said it so breathlessly--though Bellara says lots of things breathlessly, given she speaks at about the speed of magic itself. Perhaps it was the smile she'd used when she said 'the Professor'. But Bellara smiles most of the time. In the end it doesn't matter how it happened. The result was the same: Rook heard Bellara talk about these letters, this necromancer she was writing to, and figured they were passing love letters. Odd, very lingo-heavy love letters that contained a lot of side conversation about magical artifacts and the stability of the Veil, but love letters nonetheless.

Rook meets Emmrich and hears him call Bellara 'dear' and knows it must be true. Rook also meets Emmrich and wants to climb him like a tree, but she's always been into that kind of academic, willowy, never-met-the-sun kind of look. Necromancers. Rook's always been into necromancers. She is one. It's pretty normal.

"You must be excited to finally meet him in person," Rook says to Bellara while they're following Emmrich through the Shrouded Halls. Emmrich extols the wonder of life and death in between completely demolishing Venatori in a way that feels bone-shatteringly powerful.

"Oh yeah," Bellara says, and grins. "Arlathan is pretty far from Nevarra, so I didn't think we'd ever actually meet, but it's pretty cool that we did! Professor Emmrich is really knowledgeable, not just about the Fade, but music and art and--"

"Hmm neat!" Rook says, instead of Alright girl keep it in your pants because she actually really likes Bellara and she can't blame her. Emmrich Volkarin is six-foot-three, hazel-eyed and has a voice like candlelit red wine. He'd be a dream come true for any young mage with a little too much to say and a few too many nights alone in their recent past.

Of which there are two in the room.

Anyway.

It's not a big deal. The others don't really seem fussed over the fact that Bellara has brought her sneaky link into the fold and Emmrich is bonkers capable, so it doesn't really matter whether or not he's sourced from some horny letters. He also comes highly recommended from the Mourn Watch, and that's enough for Rook.

They keep things pretty subtle too. Rook never sees them kiss or even really touch, and Bellara seems too busy with the archive spirit to do much other than tinker with it outside of missions. Emmrich always seems to have something to be doing as well. If anything, he seems to spend more time with Rook than Bellara--and this is the source of the issue.

The spark of attraction in the Necropolis grows to nothing short of a blazing inferno. Emmrich invites Rook to the Memorial Gardens, performs the rituals with her, calls her recitation of the rites masterful. He takes her arm in the crook of his own as they walk the paths. He finds her in the kitchen in the evenings and sits next to her, legs crossed in that neat and proper way, and she sits there and lets the heat of his thigh burn into hers until she has to get up and go find something to occupy her hands. He does everything short of lay his jacket over puddles for her like some prince in a storybook--though even that, she wouldn't put past him. She sees him staring at her during a soaking downpour in Minrathous one time, but it's always raining in Minrathous.

Jealousy is an insidious emotion that the Mourn Watch warns against specifically. It will make a monster of the most benevolent, if it takes hold. Rook struggles not to let it. This gets harder and harder, the more time she spends in Emmrich's company and the more he seeks her out. He'll say, "I'm so pleased to have a fellow Watcher to talk to, Rook," and she'll smile and pretend she isn't actively resisting the urge to stare at his lips. He'll say, "I am continually impressed by your keen skills of observation, my dear" and she'll only be capable of nodding because she's trying to clear a daydream from her head. Something about him and one of the geothermal underground pools in the Necropolis and a mysteriously disappearing set of clothing. He'll say, "I find myself continually waiting for the next time we'll have one of our chats, Rook--they're becoming something I find great comfort in," and Rook won't even hear what he's saying, because she's trying so hard to shove him, the concept of him, into a little box in her head labeled Bellara's--Do Not Touch.

It gets a little ridiculous. She stops taking them on missions together, because the sound of them chattering on about Fade harmonics behind her makes her want to absolutely chew glass. On the off chance she sees one of them come out of the other's room, which does not happen very often at all but has, on a handful of occasions, she'll turn herself around and sit herself down on Solas' stupid fuck-ugly green meditation couch until she feels a little less like her head is going to pop off. One time, she falls asleep while doing this and has to deal with a particularly weird conversation with Solas where she's too keyed up to do much more than grunt along to his typical long-winded pontification and he ends the conversation with something along the lines of, "Perhaps you should reexamine some details of your situation that you have taken as fact. You may find them not so."

"Could you just say something that's not buried under five layers of innuendo," Rook thinks, and unfortunately also says out loud, because she's not actually allowed to think just in her head in these Solas-dreams. He scowls at her and rolls his eyes. They're both doing the Fade-space equivalent of blowing raspberries at each other by the time she wakes up.

It all comes to a head in Arlathan, because they've camped with the Veil Jumpers for the night and Rook needs to ask Bellara a question. She thinks nothing of whipping open the flap to Bellara's tent, because Bellara is almost always awake until the stars have been overhead for hours and Emmrich--who was obliged to come along, just this once, because they're in Arlathan specifically for haunting-related reasons--is visible across the camp, wiggling carrots through the bars of Gus the Nug's cage. There is a small, tender smile on his face as he listens to the nug snort and whuffle. Rook suddenly remembers the story about the pig he used to hug as a kid, and then her heart jumps a little, and--

Well, anyway, there shouldn't be a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

There is, in fact, a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

That reason is named Irelin, whose body Rook now knows about in much more expansive detail than she did a few minutes ago. Bellara's too, though most of that was covered by--well, by Irelin.

"Maker!" they all three scream in unison, and Rook all but sommersaults back out of the tent.

"Sorry," she yells through the flap. "Sor--sorry, I didn't--"

"It's fiiine," Bellara yells back. Her head pokes through after a minute. Her hair is down and disappears somewhere back inside the tent. She looks like an almost completely different person with it framing her face like that. "Hey, um--you could, like...knock next time? I mean, I know you can't really knock on a tent--"

"Everything alright over here?" Emmrich has appeared, and Rook's tongue seems to grow three sizes in her mouth.

Oh shit! is all her brain will supply, so she doesn't really respond. She thinks she's willing enough to respect Girl Code, such as it is, that she won't tell Emmrich about the whole Irelin thing. Because maybe that's how their relationship works, or maybe Emmrich already knows, or maybe it's none of her business--

Or maybe something really weird is happening, because Bellara looks at Emmrich and her expression does nothing but get a little more annoyed, and she sighs, "It's fine. No worries, Professor. Just, could you guys--y'know, privacy?"

Then Irelin makes a noise from inside the tent, and it's pretty clear at that point what's just happened, but Emmrich just blushes a little and says, "Ah," and then wraps his hand around Rook's arm and leads her away, back towards the cage with Gus.

"Okay," Rook says, as Gus sniffs her boot on the off chance it contains carrots. "That was weird."

"I fear there are bound to be clashes when multiple cultures blend, my dear," Emmrich tells her, a low murmur directly into her ear. "We in Nevarra, especially amongst the Mourn Watch, are slightly more--shall we say, open? Don't take it personally that Bellara withheld the information of her liaison with Irelin. I don't think it was done maliciously."

"No, I mean--why aren't you--upset?"

Emmrich's brows furrow. "Whyever would I be upset? I'm hardly a prude, Rook. These are difficult times, and any small piece of comfort one can find should be readily taken. A tent in the middle of a busy camp is an...interesting location, but I understand our dear Bellara has history with Irelin, and should the object of my affections be willing--"

"No, no, I mean--you're not--are you okay with this? You and Bellara have some kind of..." Rook scrambles about for an accurate word. "Agreement? About this kind of stuff?"

Emmrich's eyebrows do an odd, fluttery sort of thing that reminds Rook of a puppet she once saw being manipulated by a group of playful wisps. Sort of like his face is trying to show half a dozen emotions at once.

"Why on earth would Bellara and I have ever spoken about her sex life," he says flatly, and far more bluntly than Rook is used to him being. Heat floods her body as she realizes that she has, somewhere along the way, wildly misunderstood something.

"I," says Rook, "have made a mistake."

"Rook," he says, with a voice like he's trying to diffuse a spell primed to explode, "Darling. If you thought Bellara and I were involved, would you mind enlightening me exactly as to...what you think my intentions were when I took you to the Memorial Gardens."

Rook wonders if Gus the nug could be persuaded to eat her whole.

"Enrichment?" she mutters.

"Enrichment," Emmrich sighs under his breath.

There is a long, gravid beat of silence.

"That clearing we passed earlier," Rook mumbles under her breath, once the world is done tilting on its axis. "Looked enriching."

"Quite," Emmrich says promptly. He grabs her by the hand and only grins a little when she releases a frantic, giddy giggle as he pulls her away from the camp.

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A little Emmrook art to get you through the day. Check out the full 🌶️ drawing on bluesky!

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Okay but why be sad when you can have Assan watching butterflies?

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So hopelessly enamored.