strugglinggranola

[strugglinggranola]

here's my weekly Emmrook submission for your enjoyment

prompt: a tattoo on someone's wrist | 1.9k words | Not available on AO3 | Edited

Emmrich Volkarin was a man capable of many fixations. The things that kept his attention were varied, ranging from broad topics like Necromancy and sciences, to the the minutia of seemingly innocuous historical events. He'd cared for botany since he was young, and kept himself open to changes in fashion throughout his life. Linguistics, archeology, research; so many of the things were self-guided hobbies that stemmed from natural points of curiosity or the necessity of knowledge at the time. Very rarely did he ever discourage himself from delving further into various skills or topics. It passed the time, didn't it? 

These days, his fixations were narrower in nature. Anything that harmonized with their work at the lighthouse was what he focused on. New anomalies in the fade required hours of concentration in ancient texts that he had to learn new languages for. Bellara had asked for help with certain instruments and magical engineering was a hands-on kind of experiment. Culture was important when it came to both understanding their foes and understanding each other, so he spent ample time learning from his peers and what they had to say. 

His craving for knowledge and comprehension was hardly ever sated. New lists formed each night before he closed his eyes for as long as he was able. Then as soon as his brain showed the slightest inclination towards wakefulness, it was off to the races. The mental lists grew alongside the physical ones; stacks of notes and journals found their way to his desk and onto the shelves around his lab. There was always lots to be done and plenty of things that deserved his focus. 

So why was it that he couldn't seem to steer his current analysis of the hands across the table? The book in front of his face, a collection of Elvhen texts about the history of Arlathan, should have been easy to lose himself in. The alluded politics and anthropology of the subject alone should have garnered at least eighty percent of his attention, leaving the other twenty open for idle conversation or listening while mostly engaged with the person talking. Even a small amount should be checking his mana stores and measuring the affects of his continuous and mass exposure to the fade. All important things that should help to make him useful to his cohorts. 

But he had yet to turn a page. He had picked up where he had left off before dinner, but now he couldn't recall a single thing he had learned. All of the letters looked unfamiliar, and normally he prided himself on being able to read several languages fluently. More than once, he'd had to ask Bellara what a certain word was. Frankly, it was disconcerting. At the other end of the table, an intense game of Wicked Grace with increasingly ridiculous stakes had formed in the last half hour. Members of the team who had not been available for dinner were suddenly absorbed in the game, either as participants or spectators. 

Rook, one of the ones that had not been present for dinner, had played her way in and thoroughly trounced her teammates until it was Lucanis and Neve left standing. Davrin sat at her side, huffing about losing and casting surreptitious glances at her cards. Emmrich watched the way she held them out as though she had no idea there was any peeking going on. When Lucanis lost the next match after taking Davrin's signals at face value, Rook only had a placating look and a pout to offer them both. The pure manipulation of the situation was a touch harrowing. 

Then, Rook was shuffling, the same noise that originally drew his attention. The cards danced through her palms, fingers sliding against them gently as she flipped them this way and that, quick flourishes that drew attention away from whatever slight of hand she was executing. Neve was the only one that seemed to catch the disappearance of what was, no doubt, a significant card. The others were all too busy watching the show, with no skin left in the game, it was easy to sit back and do. 

"Nicely done," Neve congratulated her as Rook started dealing cards. "I'd know the snake bite anywhere though. Tarquin?" Must have been a reference to one of the card moves Rook had executed. Rook let out a quick laugh, "You think I could get Tarquin to play cards with me? He thinks I'm shifty." A few more cards and she was setting the rest atop the pile between them.  "He thinks everyone is shifty." Neve rolled her eyes, surveying the cards in her hand. She sorted through them and quietly laid them face down on the table, threading her hands together as she waited for Rook to organize her own cards. "Elek, then?" "Nice work detective, you really know your sneaky players." The words dripped with sarcasm and Neve frowned. Both of them sank into concentration as the game began in earnest. Emmrich watched on, the book he held open was long forgotten. Anatomy was a primary study amongst the Mourn Watch. It made for excellent healers, competent necromancers, and vicious warriors. It was an essential foundation for most everything they stood for. One could not appreciate the sanctity of death if one could not understand the very basics of the entire ordeal. 

Emmrich himself had plenty of experience with it, from both a scholarly perspective, and a physical one. Many of his hours had been dedicated to studying it and dissecting it. Not to mention the more casual pursuits that had led to the consistent satisfaction of many of his companions. But anatomy meant something different to him lately. It looked different. Thus, this was the thing that occupied the highest percentage of his focus when the conditions were just right. 

There were only a few variables that needed to be in place for this particular course of study. The first was of course, the setting. It needed to be something that he could linger in; quiet moments in the lab, dedicated time in the field, and of course, long dinners where his presence was expected but did not hinge on his participation. Anything that allowed him to disappear well within the sight of another, was perfect.

The other requirement was the appearance of a particular set of bones. Though, as much as he adored Manfred, the bones he sought out, often unconsciously, were covered by delicate sinew and velveted skin, muscles that curved to support joints, ligament that connected one piece to another. Tendons, veins, organs; all of it coming together to form somewhat of a mythical being. It was as though a pointillism painting had been created to walk about in the world, made up entirely of the things he knew the most about. And along with the circumstances that influenced personality and character, created a whole being he could not easily divest himself from.

Over the course of several weeks, all of the things that had once occupied his time to such varying degrees, now whittled themselves down to a singular focus. A one Miss Veryl Ingellvar. 

It had started as a mere desire to understand a patient. He could watch how she moved from a clinical stand point to better tailor his healing as he did with every person he worked with in such a capacity. It was expected that he would pay attention to the way her hands spun her sword, or the way they fisted tightly around a throat, or when they carded gracefully through her hair as it fell in waves around a face that was covered in the blood of their enemies…

Emmrich shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. His mouth felt dry. He reached for the glass on the table, frowning when it came up empty. Absently he poured more liquid into the glass and took a swig, letting his eyes drift to the other side of the room. It had grown quiet in his preoccupation, all the tension of a final battle between hardened enemies radiating through his companions. 

Emmrich analyzed posture for clues as to the outcome. Neve was relaxed, but there was tension in the set of her mouth. Either she wasn't pleased with her cards, or her opponent was not rising to expectations. No, he suspected that Rook had subverted those as soon as the cards were dealt. He switched his attention to the waxen scapegrace that was about to take her turn. 

Long, deft fingers, shifted through cards again, drawing focus to her activity. He'd borne witness to the many things those hands were capable of. Though he had personally never come in contact with them, their texture was discernible. Soft and silky tips, callouses made from sheer grit and determination, trimmed nails that were just long enough to break through the thin skin that stretched along a spine as they sunk in… 

Emmrich choked through another swallow of whatever liquid was in his glass as lurid imaginings flitted through his mind unbidden. Heat that had buried itself deep into his chest cavity, crawled slowly up his neck as the images started to conjure adjoining sounds. He cast a quick look toward his companions, though no one noticed his break in composure, all too focused on the game that was picking up pace. He relaxed a bit, comforted to know that he was the only privy to the sounds he heard. 

His focus flicked back to the hands that he was sure he felt along his limbs now, easing up his sleeves and across his pectoral muscles. His heart rate picked up when the barest hint of the new addition to his object of appreciation, barely appeared as she extended her hand and laid down her card. Rook had recently elected to cement her most obvious outward act of rebellion and marked herself. A small wreath of bay leaves encircled her wrist now, a symbol of a hard won battle, consistency and loyalty- I change but in death.

Emmrich was reminded of the person beyond the body, the soul that inhabited it. The vicious and powerful woman that harbored a depthless gentleness and patience that was hard earned. Suddenly, his desire to appreciate the corporeal form of the person it housed was altogether fathomless and overwhelming. It heated his core and made him feel off kilter, the room tilting in the slightest fashion all while his mind zeroed in on the feeling of the phantom touch making it’s way to more specific points of his own anatomy. 

A slap on the table had him jumping in his seat. 

"I fold!" Rook yelled. "I quit!" She had quickly risen to her feet, chair toppling to the chair behind her. With a assured alacrity, she was turning and leaping over the chair as she ran to the ktichen doors. 

"Oh no you don't!" Neve responded in kind, giving chase and sending lines of ice magic to follow after their leader. "Get back here, you cheat!"

The room erupted in laughter and talking. Harding made her way down to his end of the table, seeking out the pitcher he had been pouring from all night. Emmrich felt fuzzy as the headier sensations receded an he gained some kind of clarity. 

"Um, I think Emmrich is gonna need some help getting to his room." Harding called over her shoulder. The others joined her quickly, questions and looks of concern turning his way. "He drank the entire jug of wine."

[strugglinggranola]

Veryl doesn’t have any tattoos or any discernible markings. They weren’t allowed. Anything that made her too easy to identify was either denied or removed from her.

Except for her eyes and hair, of course.

Her benefactor made sure that Veryl was as nondescript as possible. Sometimes going as far as dying Veryl’s hair when she was younger, and always making sure Veryl covered her left eye. Until Veryl was capable of hiding herself even in the most crowded situation, great lengths were taken to hide her.

But I think Veryl probably pierced her ears and gets at least one tattoo on her wrist, either during or after Veilguard. Maybe she gets something matching with Lace. And maybe Bellara pierced her ears for her. Maybe it was a really sweet moment where Taash hyped her up to do it finally.

Both the earrings and the tattoo are simple. I don’t know what it is though? Maybe a little star or something?

[strugglinggranola]

Lighthouse Malfunction Cut Content

Before Blood of Arlathan, there was supposed to be another quest in the game - Darkness Falls. The astrolabe was breaking down, there was no way from the camp, because the eluvians weren't working either, and it was getting dark. The Lighthouse defense was slowly fading. Emmrich and Bellara came up with a plan to fix it. Rook had to go to one of the islands near the Lighthouse to get an elven artifact that could repair the astrolabe. But to get there, the help of the spirit was needed. Thus, the player had to choose who to take with them - Manfred or Spite.

In the game, the astrolabe is already broken. It can still be fixed, but this is a side quest, it doesn't play a role in the plot. This will only give you a discount at the Caretaker's workshop and an alternative look of the library.

However you can still find mentions of the Lighthouse Malfunction in the files.

Some of this content can be activated in the game using modding tools. For example, sky textures that look like twilight.

There's also malfunction lighting. I'm not sure I triggered it correctly because it looks like horror for epileptic people. But maybe it's just unfinished.

The localization file contains many lines of deleted dialogues from this quest. Hard to say whether they were voiced.

It all started with Davrin meeting Rook outside.

Rook: Davrin? You know what's happening? Davrin: Something's strange with the Lighthouse. Emmrich said to find him.

Emmrich's room, where he and Bellara discuss what to do next.

Rook: The eluvians don't work, and neither of you know why? Emmrich: The astrolabe in the main hall is out of alignment. Until we correct it, the Lighthouse's protective wards will slowly fade. Rook: And if we don't correct it? Bellara: Without the wards, we'll be open to all sorts of bad stuff. Raw magic, demons, the work. Bellara: Well not yet! Emmrich: You know, it's more than just the wards. Half the artifacts in my room have shut down, and I don't know why. Bellara: Right Professor.

Option: What caused this? Rook: Why'd the astrolabe break? Emmrich: We're not sure. The Lighthouse is so old, it could just be time. Bellara: It certainly wasn't caused by a greater spirit, or a sudden swell of magic. And yet... Emmrich: Well. Let's turn our thoughts to repairs.

Option: We've seen worse. Haven't we? Rook: This can't be as bad as some of Arlathan. Can it? Bellara: In Arlathan, we could leave. Sometimes. But we've got a plan.

Option: Well, still standing for now. Rook: I'm sure our senior necromancer would warn us if we were about to be crushed. Emmrich: Well, it would be more akin to being etherically attenuated than crushed. Bellara: It won't come to that! We've got a plan.

Option: We'll solve it together. Rook: We've got you and Emmrich, the rest of the team. We'll figure it out. Bellara: Oh! We already have a plan.

Option: What's the plan? Rook: How do we fix it? Bellara: We figured that out! Mostly.

Emmrich: Bellara's tracked down an artifact we can use to repair the astrolabe. Rook: Tell me where. Bellara: Professor Emmrich found this magic... thread from it that leads to one of the floating islands. Rook: How do you two even know this artifact exists? Bellara: A receptacle in the main hall came to life when the astrolabe malfunctioned. Bellara: I've seen them in Arlathan. Inserting the right artifact will make repairs. Emmrich: Yes. All of which we determined before you clambered up the astrolabe. Bellara: I had to double check! Rook: Okay. We need to get to the island with the artifact to fix all this. Emmrich: It's on one of the floating islands. You'll need help reaching it. Spirit help.

Next, Lucanis, Manfred and Spite take part in the conversation.

Side note. This is just my guess, but I think some of Lucanis' lines in this quest differed depending on whether the player had completed the Inner Demons or not.

Lucanis: You want Spite to help? Emmrich: We require both of you, Lucanis. Lucanis: Never! Lucanis: Emmrich. Unlike Manfred, Spite does not love doing what he's told. Emmrich: Perhaps, but Spite grows so much more aware when he works with you, Lucanis. Lucanis: Or you could send Manfred. Emmrich: Unsupervised? Bellara: Hmm. Manfred could probably find a path to the island for Rook. Manfred: (Excited hiss.)

Option: Why doesn't Emmrich do this? Rook: Can't you find this spirit path, Emmrich? Emmrich: Certainly, but— Rook: But you and Bellara have to stay here and stop the roof from collapsing? Emmrich: We have a few days before anything really bad happens. But it's safer.

Option: I'll take Manfred. Rook: You ready to go Manfred? Manfred: (Excited hiss.) Emmrich: Oh, if he must. Don't let him out of your sight!

Option: I'll take Spite. Rook: You up for this Spite? Lucanis: No. Lucanis (Spite): (Inhales.) Smells like... fear. Sweat. And frustration. Lucanis: (Deep groaning.) Lucanis: (Sighs.) I'll—we'll be outside.

Rook: What's this artifact I'm after look like? Emmrich: Same shape as the astrolabe, but much smaller. The path to it should start near Harding's room. Emmrich: Bring it to the main hall once you've found it. We'll ensure the Lighthouse is warded again.

Journal note The Lighthouse is normally shielded from the raw magic of the Fade, but something has gone wrong. The team must repair the ancient devices keeping their headquarters safe and hidden, before the wards fail and chaos envelops them.

Companions in the library: - Why's it so cold all of a sudden? - I'm cold now too. Why can't I see my breath? - See the astrolabe up there? It normally keeps the Lighthouse steady, but something's amiss. - Magic, probably. Not my specialty this time.

- Bellara and Emmrich will fix it. - Speaking of which, where was Manfred going in such a hurry?

- Bellara and that death mage said they'd fix things. - Hey, was Lucanis arguing with Spite when he passed by us?

Rook: Manfred must already be outside. Rook: Lucanis must already be outside with Spite.

In the courtyard.

Rook: Can you help turn on this portal to the island, Manfred? Manfred: (Happy hiss.) Rook: Thanks!

Rook: Spite? Can you activate this portal to the island? Lucanis (Spite): Finally! Lucanis (Spite): Rook. Needs me. Everyone. Needs me. Lucanis: Ignore him.

The full picture is unknown, only some details. Rook moved between the islands around the Lighthouse, for this Manfred or Spite held the portal for them. Unlike Spite, Manfred needed to be directed to the waypoint.

Lucanis has some raw animations in the files when he's in Spite mode holding the portal for Rook.

Rook: Think you can help find a path to it? Manfred: (Curious hiss.)

Lucanis (Spite): It's here. The path. I will take it. Lucanis (Spite): Move!

(Thunderous rumble.)

Manfred: (Frightened hiss.) Rook (Mourn Watch): We both grew up in the Necropolis, Manfred. We can handle whatever that was. Rook: I don't know what that was either, Manfred. Let's keep going. Manfred: (Happy hiss.)

Rook: Spite? Lucanis (Spite): (Angry snarl.) Close. Lucanis: Let's keep moving. Lucanis (Spite): Faster!

The path to the artifact is blocked by a barrier that can be lowed by wisps.

Rook: A barrier?

Manfred: (Concerned hiss.) Rook: Maybe it's part of the Lighthouse's defenses.

Lucanis: I see it. That barrier could be the Lighthouse defending itself.

Rook: We'll need a wisp here.

Rook (Mourn Watch): Manfred? Would you do the honors? Manfred: (Excited hiss.) Rook (Mourn Watch): Thanks Manfred. And hail the eyes of the dead. Manfred: (Very excited hiss.)

Rook: Where do we get a wisp? Rook: Unless you can call one up Manfred—wait. Can you? Manfred: (Excited hiss.) Rook: It worked! Thanks Manfred. Manfred: (Pleased hiss.)

Rook: They won't answer. Lucanis: They will. Lucanis: Call. Lucanis (Spite): COME. OUT. OR I. WILL FIND YOU! Rook: That worked? Lucanis (Spite): Curiosity. Is predictable.

Rook: That has to be the artifact Emmrich needs. Manfred: (Excited hiss.) Lucanis (Spite): Trash. Stinks of magic. Mine. Is better.

On the way back.

Rook: Wait here, Manfred. And don't wander off, Emmrich would kill me. Manfred: (Happy hiss.)

Lucanis: We'll wait here and make sure the path doesn't strand you.

Suddenly the gods cut off the path that leads Rook to the spirit companion.

Elgar'nan: At last. The Dread Wolf's little soldiers. Rook: Elgar'nan? Ghilan'nain: We have scryed you out by the blood of my dragon on your hands. Ghilan'nain: Solas erected veils of secrecy around his old lair. We've had such difficulty finding it.

Rook: That was the gods!

Rook: Manfred? I'm trapped up here! Can you help? Manfred: (Concerned hiss.)

Rook: They trapped me here! Lucanis: We'll find you a way down!

Manfred: (Loud hiss.) Rook: A path. Good work Manfred! Meet me below. Manfred: (Tired hiss.)

Lucanis (Spite): Do. What. I. Say! Lucanis (Spite): Now! Rook: I see the path! I'll meet you two down below! Lucanis (Spite): (Panting.) Go. Now.

Lucanis: Is that the gods? Are they closer?

Rook: It's just voices. They aren't here yet! Elgar'nan: Oh, but we shall be soon.

Rook: We have to hide the Lighthouse. I need to get this artifact to Emmrich!

Rook (Mourn Watch): I'll get us around this. Stay here Manfred. Watcher's orders. Manfred: (Obedient hiss.)

Rook: Sit tight, Manfred. I'll get us around this. Manfred: (Consoled hiss.)

Rook: Done! Come on Manfred. Manfred: (Happy hiss.)

Lucanis (Spite): (Inhales.) Wrong. Wrong. Wrong! Lucanis (Spite): Stench. Of pride! Old. And stale! Lucanis: Calm down. Rook: I'll get us past this. Spite, just concentrate on making this path exist.

Elgar'nan: You thought we wouldn't notice you harrying our forces. Elgar'nan: But I assure you: I see all. Rook: Get... get out of my head! Elgar'nan: It would be wisdom to simply submit. To obey. Rook: A shame, that Wisdom failed to find you in your long years of reflection. Ghilan'nain: We will make far better use of this place, and yourselves, than Solas ever could. Elgar'nan: And learning what the Dread Wolf has told you all. Rook: We don't answer to you! Ghilan'nain: They resist. We are not close enough to Solas's lair. Elgar'nan: Distance will be of little consequence, after we visit Arlathan.

Rook returns to the Lighthouse. Manfred and Lucanis falling over with tiredness.

Manfred: (Unhappy hiss.) Rook: Manfred? Rook: You all right? Maybe Emmrich should look you over. Manfred: (Sad hiss.) Rook (Mourn Watch): The local astral instability must have overtaxed you when you channeled the path. Rook: You're not used to channeling this much magic for spell-casting. Rook: I've got to get to the main hall. Emmrich will help you after.

Lucanis: Do you have the—ugh! Rook: Lucanis? Rook: You two okay? Lucanis: Spite wore us both out to make that path. Rook: Did doing all this magic... hurt you? Lucanis: It doesn't matter. Get to the main hall.

Ghilan'nain: The Fade is clouded. Obscured. Ghilan'nain: We must find these mortals. Elgar'nan: I am keen to explore Fen'Harel's vaunted refuge. Ghilan'nain: We can reshape it. Repurpose it. And the mortals within.

Companions in the library: - Does anyone else... hrm. Thought I heard a voice. - Is that the gods? - Are the gods here? Right now? - They're saying stuff... in my head? - If Emmrich doesn't fix that astrolabe—damn it. I can hear them! - Don't listen. Block them out! - The gods are trying to bring the Lighthouse down on our heads! - They won't get the chance. This is our home now!

Ghilan'nain: My finest work. An Archdemon like no other. Planned for, nurtured, improved. Ghilan'nain: Slain by mortals. Elgar'nan: When we free the blight, you will raise a thousand Archdemons as your host.

Ghilan'nain: Dark. Shifting. The Dread Wolf's lair hides his underlings. Ghilan'nain: Everywhere sounds different now. Ghilan'nain: The blight calls as well. It will take great effort to unleash it all from the Fade.

Rook: Here's the artifact! Emmrich: Just in time! Place it into the receptacle.

In the game, Rook fixes the astrolabe by activating the device. But during malfunction this was only 50% of success. Restoring the Lighthouse's defenses also required manipulation by Emmrich and Bellara.

Companions in the library: - Were the gods almost here? - They're gone right? - They're gone! - I can't believe the gods were so close to finding us. - Hey. Glad you made it safely. - I don't feel them anymore. But Rook's got to tell us what happened.

Rook: I'll fill everyone in.

Lucanis: I'll make coffee.

Team sofa conversation or in the kitchen dunno.

Davrin: Glad to see the Lighthouse is once again our home sweet home. Emmrich: The artifact that fixed the astrolabe is a miniaturized suppressing element. It negates Fade energy! Emmrich: Including the gods' magic. We are hidden from their scrying. Rook: Thanks to you and Bellara.

Bellara: Professor, about that artifact... Emmrich: It's safe to remove, if you'd like to study it. Bellara: By seal and light. By the indwelling flame. (Magic crackling.) Bellara: The spellwork was straightforward, but I sense quite a few interlocking mechanisms inside. Bellara: I've never seen anything like it.

Rook: Harding. Harding: But it's all over, Rook. Right?

Option: It mostly worked out. Rook: If Manfred hadn't been here, and Bellara didn't know about that artifact, and Emmrich hadn't fixed it... Rook: If we didn't have Spite, if Bellara hadn't found that artifact, if Emmrich hadn't repaired the astrolabe... Harding: I know right? How are we even going to sleep tonight? Rook: Count your victories.

Option: They came so close. Rook: This was too close. Can't believe the damn gods were nearly on top of us. Rook: But even with no warning, we slipped away. Harding: Bet they're angry they failed. Rook: They'll be mad. Good.

Option: But we still beat them. Rook: We're still here. And only a little scared. Come on, that's something! Harding: All right, the gods aren't infallible. Rook: Damn right they're not.

Rook: And Manfred. Is he all right? Emmrich: Exhausted. But he'll recover. Emmrich: I'm afraid I won't be of much help, however, until I reknit his corporeal tethering. Neve: That sounds calmer. Good work, Fred. Manfred: (Tired hiss.)

Rook: And Spite and Lucanis. How are you two doing? Lucanis: Fine. We're fine. Neve: That's a lot better. Thanks Lucanis. And Spite. Lucanis (Spite): Mine! I am. The stronger one! I... (Tired growl.)

Lucanis: Spite... may have overdone it. I can barely keep my eyes open. I think he needs a nap. Lucanis (Spite): No! Sleep! Is weak—(Yawns.)

Harding: What's our next move? Rook: Elgar'nan confirmed the gods want something in Arlathan. The Veil Jumpers might know more. Harding: We actually got a message from them, before all this. Morrigan wants to meet. Didn't say why. Rook: Okay. We'll ask the Veil Jumpers about the gods, and pay Morrigan a visit.

Journal note: When the Lighthouse lost its magical protection, little did the team realize the cause of this breakdown was the elven gods attempting to track down Solas' old lair. With help from the others, Emmrich restored the wards and hid the Lighthouse again from the gods with an old, elven artifact. Bellara took the artifact for study, noting it had strange, magic-nullifying properties that could be very useful indeed.

There's an alternative post-malfunction convo. The speakers aren't fully identified.

Bellara: The suppression element is... doing what it does. Really well! Emmrich: Direct nullification of the Fade energy that powers it. Ingenious. Rook: The Lighthouse is stable? We're sure the gods are out? Emmrich: Thanks to your taming the device, yes. The gods are blind to us. Bellara: So we're safe here. Rook: Good, good. Just one question, then.

Option: Everyone ready to hit back? Rook: They probably think we're reeling, like they got us afraid of them. I say we get moving.

Option: What unbelievable assholes. Rook: Anyone else as pissed as I am? They go where they want like they own it, like they're.... Bellara: Like they're gods? Rook: No, they're assholes just... fucking up our house! I want a plan that hits back.

Option: Can we use it to attack them? Rook: Can you get it small enough to shove up a god's ass? Asking for a friend. Emmrich: We can study the suppression device. But the gods are moving now.

The rest of the party talk: - See? They try to scare us, and instead, consensus. I want a plan. - And me. - Lick our wounds later. Get to business. - Right. We need a plan. What do we know? - The voices we heard. I don't think they knew we could hear them. - Elgar'nan may intend a mass sacrifice. - To do what? - Then Elgar'nan's got plans for a ritual. He said he wanted "magical fodder." - "From the dust of our empire." That's got to mean elves. - Like the Wardens said. Guessing he's not planning anything good with them. - This is tricky. Elves need to know the threat. - Even if they know, they might try to get involved anyway. - We've got a useful tool here, and we'll study it. But we can't let them take people now. - Are they taking people, or are people joining them? The Venatori did. - We've seen what they really are. Our "gods." More than once. - So we know where they'll be, and we've got some idea about their plan. - This may be our chance to take down Ghilan'nain. We'll talk to the Veil Jumpers and figure out what's going on in Arlathan. - And if the gods are already there? Gathering "fodder." - We warn them, but with care. - Well, looks like we're going to Arlathan. - Whatever happens, let's be careful. We can't afford to miss anything. - We need to move fast. - Doesn't matter. We stop it. - Time to visit Arlathan.

And it seems that the Music Room and The Wolf's Den could only be explored after the malfunction quest.

The release version didn't include these Rooks' lines from there: - I'm glad we got that fixed. - A piano? I wonder who played. - Wow. - A hideaway inside a hideaway. - Solas must've spent a lot of time here.

[strugglinggranola]

Chapter Alert!

Chapter 2 of Quiet in the Stacks is up!

Note: the word Emmrich was looking for was 'cooked'

[strugglinggranola]

“Not all men”

You’re right. Cremisius Aclassi, lieutenant of The Bull’s Chargers mercenary company, would NEVER-

[strugglinggranola]

[strugglinggranola]

Hi yes. Emmrich is lactose intolerant. So going on a not date with his boss to Tony's Pizzaria is likely a very bad idea. But he's smitten.

And his tummy WILL pay the price.

[strugglinggranola]

Finalized fully shaded commission for Autumn, based on a scene of their and HongKou's fic "Blessed be the Peacekeepers"!

Link to the fic! It's SO good ya'll, angst and whump lovers are eatin' good with this one! 🤌 (mind the tags and warnings as this gets pretty dark!)

[strugglinggranola]

You have a complex relationship with your body and need to keep some/all of your clothes on during sex?

That's okay, what you're wearing looks good on you.

You need to take a lot of breaks doing anything intimate because you're easily overwhelmed?

I understand, I'm just happy to be here with you.

You're on medication that impacts your libido/makes reaching orgasm really difficult?

No pressure, tell me what feels good for you, and if you get frustrated we can do something else together.

Sex isn't going to look the same for everybody and that's fine, that's normal.

Sometimes you don't orgasm, sometimes you need to stop because your mood changes out of nowhere, sometimes you get really self conscious and need accommodations to take your mind off of it.

People are too complex for everybody to go about it the same, just keep doing what feels best for you, regardless of how different it may seem from other people's experiences.

[strugglinggranola]

WIP Whenever

Hi. Yes. @jenn2d2 @notyourmamasdeerbat, and @the-font-bandit have tagged me in a few WIP Whenevers, Last Sentence Fridays ect. So could you guys do me a favor and hold on to the below for me? I gotta delete it from Carved in Bone, Branded in Flesh because it's

Too Happy

Doesn't fit with the narrative right now.

So I originally intended this to pick up after Chapter 25 and they would go straight into that scene where Emmrich brings Manfred back at the Necropolis...but I want to wallow a bit more so it doesn't make sense.

Anyway, Here. Enjoy!

The days marched slowly on in a dream like haze for the two of them. Plans were set in motions, a dragon was slain—and yet Emmrich could not for the life of him move past the haunted feeling in his chest. It was in the soft kiss of lips against skin, against the whisper of fingers brushing, the way her hair fell in a red curtain over him as she melted into his body at night. The feeling that things—

That this was fleeting, and despite the white knuckled grip he had on her hips as she rode him to the brink and past it, his stomach still tightened.

His wounds scared, but not the raw wound of his heart. It was bleeding, filling his chest cavity, every time Rook took a risk, every time she lept from a roof to a lower balcony Minrathous. There was something there, and yet when he wished to speak, his mouth fell dry, full of cotton and briars.

He couldn't.

Not when she smiled and it reached her eyes. Not when her back was bare to his chest a night. Not when—not when his heart lept every moment she smirked at a joke only he knew. He was utterly and irrefutibly besotted and to him, though he might not admit it to anyone should they ask, Lenora was the love his life. His last love.

He'd already assumed as much the first time the pangs of love coursed through him, but after that night in the infirmary, after so much between them, his quiet declaration had sealed that truth to his very bones, carving them into his bones like an enchantment. Something that could never move from him, even as he prepared for lichdom.

Emmrich swallowed as the last bangle slid past his boney wrist, settling between the flesh and cuff of his coat. Vorgoth had granted her special permission to attend the ceremony and he was ever so greatful for the Senior Watcher.

"Are you—" Rook called, rounding the corner, the last bit of her braid plating in her hand. "—ready?"

He stopped and his eyes wandered lecherously over her simple linen dress. It wasn't even that it showed much skin, it simply—it simply held her in an ultra femine way, in a way that screamed to him to ruck up her dress right there and have her.

"You're staring," she said, fastening in the leather around her braid end.

"I suppose I am," He murmured. His heart twisted once more, winding tighter in his chest. "I suppose—"

[strugglinggranola]

My god, Emmrich is a little over dramatic when he's sad.

(oh and Lenora is learning how to write and read so that's good)

[strugglinggranola]

Emmrich week Day 7 : Alternate Universe

(AU where emmrich is some niche model that is a muse for some luxury clothing brand 😌)

[strugglinggranola]

Op. I have no idea, but it makes me REALLY want to know the worth of a soul in Dragon Age. Like, why do darkspawn presumably not have souls? Does the blight eat up the soul? We saw ghouls in DAO in the Dalish orgin, so—?? Maybe?

Reblogging to see if anybody out there can posit the worth of a soul!

why Davrin didn't die killing the Archdemon

we see Ghilan'nain draw this essence out of Razikale numerous times over the course of the boss fight, using it to alter her dragon and transform it - presumably this is the portion of her power imbued in the dragon that makes her immortal

when Davrin kills the archdemon, this is what we see

the usual transfer of essence that occurs when an archdemon dies directs away from Davrin and into Ghilan'nain, similar to how killing the Red Lyrium Dragon triggers the transfer of its infused power back into Corypheus

in past Blights, the Warden who kills the archdemon dies because its essence transfers into a nearby blighted creature, and the priority has always been Warden > Darkspawn. But in past Blights, the Evanuris that was tied to their respective archdemon wasn't present, whereas Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan were when their archdemons died. So in this instance, we can presume the order of priority for this essence transfer is Evanuris > Warden > Darkspawn, all of which are Blighted creatures. So Davrin likely survived because Ghilan'nain was present to re-absorb her essence, and she superseded him in order of priority.

So my question is, what causes this order of priority? It's most likely that Evanuris are at the top because it's their essence, and naturally it would seek to rejoin its owner once it was disembodied, except 5/7 times, the owner was absent and it had to find another host else where. So why does it try to enter a Warden rather than a Darkspawn? Maybe it's because a Warden has a soul, whereas a Darkspawn doesn't? The presence of a soul combined with the Taint could maybe 'fool' the essence into believing the Warden is the Evanuris host, so it attempts to rejoin its progenitor, only to clash with the Warden's soul and cause the mutual destruction of both.

But then what does that make the soul of an Old God, really? Is it a fragment of the Evanuris the dragon belonged to? Does that mean that Kieran is actually in possession of a fragment of one of the Evanuris, separated from the original god it belonged to? These are the questions I need answers to 👀

[strugglinggranola]

Franz Kafka

[strugglinggranola]

— Albert Camus, The Misunderstanding

[strugglinggranola]

A cat most definitely wrote this so adding:

Shit post on tumblr

cat can:

snuggle

biting you

eat food AND plastic

so scared of car sounds

locate Bug

Make sounds

[strugglinggranola]

Kinda proud of this one. His hair and nose are giving me trouble, but you know what? I think I can see a resemblance and that makes me happy. So, yeah. Gonna keep at it.

Guys. I just picked up a sketchbook and pencils for the first time in a decade and a half. Only the Emmrich Volkarin fandom could do this to me.

My mom is a brilliant artist and I will always love her work, but she got so anal about me doing art that it made me uncomfortable to even try. I wasn't good and I'm still not, but seeing all y'alls art makes me wanna try again.

You guys. I want to try again. My WHOLE childhood always had my mom looking over my shoulder and correcting me or critiquing me about how I did line art. Like I remember not even wanting to COLOR IN A FREAKING COLORING BOOK because she wanted me to add shading AND I wasn't staying in the lines.

I wish Child Granola knew me as I am now. And I really just want you all to know that being apart of the Dragon Age Fandom and being a fan of that gentleman necromancer has really started a healing process I didnt know I needed. So Thanks.

Truly. Truly. Truly. Thank you.