sirchik

[sirchik]

Eepy again. What a week.

[sirchik]

[Friendly hissing]

[sirchik]

hi guys please read a beautiful thing @kirain made about my rook and emmrich😭😭😭 i'm soo in love in every part of it, thank you so much again!!!

@sirchik A little thank you for the incredible birthday surprise you drew for me! ❤

Based on your beautiful art piece here.

Stormclouds hung like heavy curtains over Cian Lake, smothering its shimmer beneath grey velvet. A hush had settled over the air, the usual song of cicadas replaced by the electric rumble that comes just before rain. Emmrich stood powerless, eyes cast skywards, searching the heavens in vain. No flickers. No glow. Just darkness.

Behind him, Palee's foot scuffed gently against the dirt. "We'd better get moving," he warned. "Unless you want a second bath."

Emmrich turned to face him, and Palee smiled—bright, cheerful—but Emmrich swore he caught a faint sigh beneath it. The ebullient elf had been talking about this for weeks, ever since Emmrich first described the firefly bloom: that fleeting night each year when thousands of glowing insects mated in a luminous frenzy over the lake. It was an event so lauded and ethereal that Nevarrans flocked to the swampy shore just to bask in its beauty.

But with a storm looming, the fireflies stayed tucked in the tall grass, seeking their mates far from the eyes of hopeful spectators.

"I'm sorry, darling," Emmrich said, wincing as the crowd shuffled away, grumbling under their breath—each voice a stinging chorus of the disappointment he'd subjected Palee to.

"It's not your fault," the elf tittered, waving his hand. "Little bugs just got stage fright. Can't say I blame them—I wouldn't want an audience for my romantic escapades either."

Emmrich almost smiled, but guilt gnawed at his chest. "You were so excited..."

"Don't worry about it," Palee begged, sensing his anguish. "There's always next year."

There was that phrase again. Next year. The two of them said it often, like a mantra meant to hold back the war creeping at their door. But Emmrich knew—as did Palee—that there might not be a next year. Not if they failed. Not if the gods struck them down.

He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the first drops fell, dotting his cheek like ink on parchment.

"Quick!" Palee laughed, seizing Emmrich's hand. "Before we get soaked!"

They ran together through the growing rain, back towards the eluvian nestled in the brush. The glass rippled as they passed through, and in an instant, the world around them shifted.

The Necropolis. Empty. Silent. Sacred. The rain hadn't followed them, but the shadows had—curling along the mausoleum walls. Emmrich stood in the stillness, devastated, while Palee moved amongst the graves, brushing dust from the names with a reverent hand.

"I truly am sorry," Emmrich said again, his voice cracking with regret.

"Please, don't be," Palee chirped, wandering further down the path. "I wasn't there for the bugs, I was there to spend time with you."

"You were looking forward to it. Don't deny it."

Palee shrugged, his smile ever-present. "Honestly, with my eyesight? Those fireflies would've had to smack me in the face for me to spot them anyway."

Emmrich didn't laugh. "Don't say such things—not even in jest."

His tone was harsher than intended, but the damage was done. Palee flinched, his hand pausing mid-stroke on the sarcophagus he'd been absentmindedly polishing. When he looked back at Emmrich, he saw more than frustration—he saw grief. Pain that ran deeper than a single spoiled evening.

"сердце моё," he said, closing the distance between them. "What's wrong?"

Emmrich sighed, slow and weary. That winsome elf had a gift for chasing away his gloom—with nothing more than a tender term of endearment.

"Forgive me," he murmured. "I just... wanted to give you something beautiful." His head dropped, his shoulders sagging. "With everything so uncertain, so finite—"

Palee took his hand, cradling it between his own. "You give me something beautiful every day." He beamed. "Your love."

Emmrich's throat clenched as the elf eased him into a moonlit stroll, soothed by the warmth of his skin and the natural way their fingers laced together. He had wanted to give Palee a night of splendour and serenity—something he'd never known—before the chance vanished forever. But in the end, a simple walk, hand in hand, had always been enough—for both of them.

"Thank you, darling."

Palee smiled, soft and sure. "Don't be so hard on yourself, precious. Like I said, it was never about the bugs. I'm happiest when I'm with you."

"And I you," Emmrich breathed. "And I, you."

As they passed an altar, Emmrich's gaze drifted over the arrangement—and then he saw it. Amongst the candles, herbs, incense, and flowers lay a skull: pale, delicate, likely left by the initiates to be affixed to a body come morning.

Yet to him, it was providence.

"Wait," he said, guiding Palee to stand before him as he leaned against the surface.

"What is it?"

Emmrich grinned, reaching behind his back to discreetly slip the skull into his palm. "Close your eyes."

"All right," the elf said, his tone edged with intrigue.

Emmrich moved the skull in front, then took Palee's hand and placed it on the crown.

"Take a breath," he whispered. "Slow. Deep."

Palee obeyed, brow furrowed but trusting. He'd heard those words before—and the chant that followed: "Be borne on the great currents. See now as they see."

A hush fell again, but not before a storm—it was a pause, a held note, a moment suspended in time.

Then light bloomed.

Not the fireflies of Nevarra, but a thousand glimmers from the Fade—green and floating like stars, untethered by gravity. They swirled around them, fragile and shimmering, catching in Palee's lashes and the folds of his vest, the whole world softening beneath their glow.

"Open."

He did, and his heart swelled. He'd seen this magic before—but not like this. Not in the idyll of the Necropolis, where spirits wove through the night, stirring echoes of the dead in their wake. With their presence, the spell surged, flashes of light dancing through the air like brushstrokes on living canvas.

No monarch in Thedas had a view like this.

"Gorgeous..." Palee gasped, awestruck as his eyes swept across the scene.

"Yes, you are," Emmrich purred.

Palee glanced up at him, the light catching the edges of his striking features—and that, more than anything, enchanted him completely. One hand still resting on the skull, he slipped his other arm around Emmrich's waist, drawing him closer. The motion arched the older man back against the altar, one arm splayed behind for balance—the only thing keeping him upright apart from Palee's unwavering grip. Their chests met with a soft, sensual thud, and heat rushed across Emmrich's cheeks as his legs parted, inviting Palee's step between them.

"Thank you, сердце моё."

Their lips met like water and flame—a kiss that ignited and cooled all at once. Palee held him tightly, fingers curling into the small of his back, and Emmrich deepened the kiss with the desperation of a man who knew how rare these moments could be.

One by one, as the glints of emerald dimmed, Emmrich and Palee remained in each other's embrace, their lips still searching, still savouring—long after the last light died away.

[sirchik]

hi @kirain !!! i readed all your works in emmrook posts, and i really love them!! also i notice you had a birthday not long ago?? anyway just wanted to say thank you for your hard work, and make for you a small gift picture with vae :3 whole appreciation post for you and vae, i would really like it to bring you a little joy!!

[sirchik]

hi guys i'm back with lich!emmrook angst🤍 happy easter (for me it's just au because Palee decided to have a great reading an alphabet time with manfred in front of the fireplace)

[sirchik]

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

@sirchik Sorry to hear you've been feeling unwell. I'm glad you're back, and I hope this cheers you up a bit! Based on your beautiful posts here.

The room was dim, bathed in the deep blue of late night, but Palee could see it—Emmrich's trembling, the way his fingers clutched the pillow, knuckles white. His soft whimpers had woken the elf, but Palee felt no malice—only concern as he saw sweat clinging to Emmrich's bare skin, soaking the sheets. His breaths were shallow, panicked.

It wasn't the first time.

Palee knew these nights well. Nights where Emmrich was locked away in the dark corners of his mind, where his nightmares took pleasure in his torment. But that didn't make it any easier to watch.

Slowly, Palee pushed himself up on his elbows, wincing at the sight of Emmrich curling in on himself, so small, so lost. As if trying to disappear. His face contorted, teeth clenched, and then, with a rasp, he sobbed, "I'm going to die... alone..."

Palee's heart ached. They had been together for months, but that couldn't heal years of solitude and trepidation. He needed more, but Palee was happy to give. Reaching out, he brushed damp strands of hair from Emmrich's forehead, hoping to wake him, but the man didn't stir. The nightmare had its claws in him, holding him prisoner in a place where loneliness had festered for far too long.

"Cердце моё," Palee whispered, shifting closer, pressing his lips to the nape of Emmrich's neck. "You're not alone."

His hands moved gently, fingers trailing over the tense muscles of Emmrich's back, feeling the way they tightened under his touch.

"Shhh," he hushed. "It's me. You're safe."

He kissed his shoulder, warm and lingering, as if he could chase away the darkness. Still, Emmrich didn't wake, but Palee refused to let him suffer. Another kiss, softer, just below his ear, where his pulse was rapid and afraid.

"I'm here," the elf murmured, his voice soothing. His lips followed the words, pressing along the curve of Emmrich's throat, tender and devoted. "I'll always be here. You are not alone."

His hand moved to run through Emmrich's hair, fingertips caressing his scalp, easing the stress that held him captive. He didn't know how long it would take, or if it would work at all, but Palee could do this all night. His lips brushed Emmrich's jaw, then his cheek, his neck—back down to his shoulder.

Lower.

After a while, the shaking began to fade, the ragged breaths settling into a steadier, deeper rhythm. The furrow in Emmrich's brow smoothed, his clenched jaw relaxing, his fingers slowly releasing the pillow.

"There we go," Palee sighed, relieved.

He lay back down, wrapping himself around Emmrich like a shield, warding off every lonely thought that had ever haunted him.

Then—finally, after what felt like an eternity—Emmrich smiled in his peaceful slumber.

Palee smiled too, pressing one last kiss to his temple before pulling the blankets higher.

"I've got you," he whispered. "I always will."

And the rest of the night was silent.

[sirchik]

The tenderness in your art is insane, ive never seen anyone make art look as cozy and sweet and loving

hi hello!

omg thank you so much for these nicest words i ever read, i'm so glad that my little pictures give you such wonderful emotions🤍

[sirchik]

hello again everyone

my mental health got worse and I had to undergo some treatment which slowed me down even more

nevermind , i finished a couple of sketches with emmrich and palee i wanted to share soooo long there is even !veryPOSTveilguard event okay

i just put them here to show yall? thanks

[sirchik]

Leonid Pasternak  (Ukrainian, 1862–1945) - The Torments of Creative Work

[sirchik]

I love him more and more each day 🌹

[sirchik]

[sirchik]

pup star

[sirchik]

early wartime closet makeout stealth missions FAILED

[sirchik]

⭐️💙⭐️Blue Royal Stars⭐️💙⭐️

[sirchik]

oh my god if somebody's here likes my rook guy please take a look @kirain this is most beautiful romantic soft piece of art i ever seen😭😭😭 i still can't belive i deserved to have such a nice thing??? and palee just SO canonical so i canttt thank you so much🤍🤍🤍🤍

Part six of my appreciation project.

@sirchik A fic based on their wonderful art piece here and here. Thank you for feeding the fandom!

Emmrich shivered as he huddled on the couch, scarcely drawing any warmth from the fire he'd conjured. His breath was shallow, throat raw from the relentless coughing that left him weak and aching. He had draped a blanket over his shoulders, but it did little to wane the enervating chill in his bones.

Manfred had helped him to the study, but he didn't want the frolicsome wisp to waste his entire day watching him suffer. Instead, he'd told him to go play with Davrin and Assan—and Manfred, not grasping the gravity of the situation, eagerly obeyed.

"That's it, Manfred. I'm sure Assan has shed a few feathers. Feel free to—" He gritted his teeth, dizzy, his lungs throbbing. "To... make something pretty out of them."

He kept a brave face, but the moment his skeletal protégé disappeared down the hall, a strained wheeze escaped him, his head sinking back against the cushions. He hated this. He hated the frailty that came with sickness, the way it stripped away his strength and left him vulnerable. At his age, illness always felt like a cruel reminder of mortality—a whisper in the back of his mind that he wasn't going to live forever.

But the worst was the solitude.

He'd spent too many nights curled up alone, longing for someone who cared. He had always dreamed of a lover's gentle touch—a hand smoothing damp hair from his forehead, fingers lacing through his own as he drifted into fevered sleep.

A fantasy, nothing more.

"Palee..."

The name slipped from his lips before he could stop it. He knew he couldn't, but he wanted to see him, to be held by him.

His breath hitched, his mind wandering back to the day they met.

-----

The redheaded elf strode into the Necropolis with an undeniable presence, his piercing blue eyes locked on Emmrich as he made his bold request.

"Join us. Fight the gods."

Though immediately intrigued, Emmrich had little time to dwell on the offer before chaos erupted, his attention drawn to a distant scream.

"I'd be pleased to continue our conversation after I tend to some small business here," he said.

But it wasn't small. It was horrendous. Far more severe than he'd anticipated—Venatori zealots desecrating the sanctity of the tombs.

To his astonishment, Palee and his companions rushed to his aid, driving back the invaders and protecting the resting dead with a reverence Emmrich had never seen from outsiders. They were neither necromancers nor Watchers, nor even Nevarran, yet they treated the Necropolis with the respect it deserved, unshaken by the rituals and rites most considered unnerving—if not outright wicked.

As they fought, Emmrich caught glimpses of Palee between spells. He moved like quicksilver, his toned form twisting and striking with effortless grace, swinging an axe as though it were weightless—and Maker, his outfit accentuated every blow. His sleeveless cropped top clung to his chest, dipping into a deep, shameless plunge that revealed far too much skin for Emmrich's already-fraying focus. High-waisted pants hugged his hips, the lace-up front drawing Emmrich's gaze lower before he forced himself to look away.

He had only just met the young man, and yet...

As their opponents thinned, he looked back. A gold necklace with multiple pendants glimmered against Palee's sweat-slick chest, catching the torchlight as he slashed through his foes, and Emmrich hated how easily it pulled his attention. His concentration should have been on the Venatori, on the magic thrumming at his fingertips—but instead, he was painfully aware of the burly elf dancing through the chaos, radiant and confident, a fire burning in his eyes.

A distraction. He was a stunning, infuriating distraction.

When it was over, Palee faced him, grinning from ear to ear. "I think it's time for a proper introduction, Professor."

Without hesitation, he seized Emmrich's hand and pressed his lips to his knuckles.

The touch was fleeting, yet it sent a bolt of shyness through the older man, unravelling his carefully held composure. It was such a simple act of politeness, yet so foreign, setting his nerves alight in a way nothing ever had. Kindness from a stranger was rare enough—kindness from one who had witnessed his craft without fear was unthinkable.

Yet, this charming elf, scantily clad and courageous, seamlessly undid decades of negative encounters—decades of people running, avoiding, or blatantly accusing him of vile magic. As the feeling of Palee's lips tickled his skin, Emmrich's thoughts swirled, his fingers dainty against his own. He blushed furiously, but he didn't pull away.

He never wanted to.

-----

A deep cough wracked Emmrich's body, yanking him back to the present. Hunching forward, he clutched his chest, each breath burning in his lungs. His brow furrowed, his body torn between hot and cold, sweating and shaking. He barely heard the approaching footsteps until a familiar voice broke through his haze.

"You look awful."

His head lifted sluggishly, and through bleary vision, he saw Palee standing by the couch, a steaming cup of tea in hand. His usual smirk was softened by something gentler—concern.

"Y-you shouldn't be here," Emmrich choked, but Palee plopped down beside him, pushing the cup into his hands.

"Too late for that," he hushed. "Drink up."

Emmrich relented quickly, too tired to argue, and brought the cup to his lips. As soon as he swallowed, the heat soothed the rawness in his throat, and he hummed in relief.

"That's... better," he rasped, taking a moment to savour the taste—medicinal yet zesty. "Thank you, darling."

Palee grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Let's see if I can make you feel even better."

Without warning, he leaned in, capturing Emmrich's lips in a fragile kiss, leaving him just enough room to breathe.

The older man tensed, his febrile mind struggling to catch up. When it did, he pulled away and yelled, "Darling, no! I could be contagious."

Palee scoffed, brushing a thumb over Emmrich's flushed cheek. "I could be immune."

His lips curled into a playful smirk before he set the teacup aside and pulled Emmrich closer, tilting his head to kiss him again—slower, deeper.

"Let me take care of you," he purred, freely speaking the words Emmrich longed to hear.

Finally, he wasn't alone. Palee wouldn't allow it, not even when he was a clammy, feeble mess.

"Darling, I'm disgusting. I—"

"Shh. Come here, my heart."

Palee's hands were warm against the tender goosebumps on his skin, tracing over his arms, down his back—pulling him in like a moth to flame, tantalising but safe. Emmrich let out a whimper, grateful and yielding. This simple act, again so small but significant, nearly broke him. His eyes squeezed shut, overwhelmed by the kindness—by the way Palee held him as if he mattered.

"Let's get you nice and toasty," he teased, cradling Emmrich's head back to pat tiny kisses along his neck.

"Darling..." he gasped, his cheeks somehow swelling a deeper shade of red. "You really shouldn't—ah!"

Emmrich melted against him; he couldn't help it, his heart pounding. Years ago, he'd given up hope that anyone would truly care for him. Yet Palee—the strapping, adventurous elf who had swept him off his feet in every sense—accepted everything: his age, his necromancy, his troubled past with Hezenkoss. Every flaw, every insecurity. And as Palee continued to kiss him, licking and sucking at his skin, tugging the neckline of his nightdress down to taste more, Emmrich felt something stir in his soul.

He was loved. Unconditionally.

"Darling..." he shuddered, tears welling in his eyes.

Palee paused, cupping Emmrich's face and pressing their foreheads together. "No, my heart, don't cry." He kissed his nose, wiping his tears with his thumbs. "Or is that mucus?"

"Oh, for the love of—!"

Emmrich groaned, flustered and embarrassed, and tried to pull away, but Palee caught him, wrapping his arms around him and gently sliding a hand to the back of his head.

"I'm kidding!" he cried humorously.

But as Emmrich squirmed, Palee's demeanour shifted, his fingers threading through the older man's hair, calming him instantly.

"I've got you," he whispered, his milky eye sharp with sincerity. "Through rain or shine, in sickness and in health. I've got you."

Emmrich froze, his stomach fluttering at the sudden gruffness in Palee's tone. He had waited so long to hear a vow like that. And when Palee kissed him again, he returned it—pressing their lips together with a fervour that bared his devotion and drained his energy all at once.

"Let's get you comfortable," Palee said, his lips trailing lower.

"Please..." Emmrich begged, arching back instinctively.

But the fever was ruthless, and before Emmrich could fully lose himself in the allure of Palee's ministrations, darkness crept into the edges of his vision. His body sagged, exhaustion pulling him under.

"Whoops!" Palee laughed, catching him with ease. "Are you all right?"

"Ugh..." Emmrich moaned, barely conscious. "I-I'm sorry, dearest. I can't seen to... stay awake."

Palee smiled and gently guided Emmrich down, settling his head against his chest, his body nestled securely between the elf's legs. The couch was spacious, almost as if designed for two—or perhaps Palee refused to leave his side.

"You really are sick," he giggled, pulling the blanket over them both. "Sleep, сердце моё, and get better soon," he murmured, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into the older man's back.

Emmrich let out a soft sigh as his weary mind finally began to quiet, and with the steady rhythm of Palee's heartbeat in his ear, he drifted into a peaceful, protected slumber.

[sirchik]

hello i draw and paint very slow but maybe can i throw a romantic rookrich picture once again? thanks

[sirchik]

I must tend to this, but I'd be delighted if we found each other later.