#the littlest necromancer

[mageknife]

the dialogue between solas and a necromancer inquisitor is very telling too because the only way he approves of studying necromancy is saying that you want to use it to understand spirits more but disapproves of anything else, especially saying you want to use it for your own power

interesting also that he specifies “so long as no intelligent spirits are harmed”—what constitutes a spirit being intelligent? cole disapproves of necromancy as a whole, saying that even the littlest, barest wisp could become a spirit.

solas and cole’s differing philosophies speak to… well, solas and cole. solas who is wisdom, who can convince himself that the ends justify the means, and cole who is compassion, who feels for every living thing. and wisps are alive, as we see in veilguard, but they’re not considered intelligent; when they possess corpses, they can be controlled by a necromancer, and it’s seen like, i don’t know, having oxen plow a field rather than enslaving a person.

it’s that matter of intelligence that brings about the primary moral quandary of necromancy that makes use of wisps. the mourn watch would be on solas’s side here, saying that they’re not quite intelligent and useful in the way that a work horse would be. but they’re not animals. they can continue to grow and become full-fledged spirits. solas even says this in his companion quest.

the following is from the origins codex entry on wisps:

A wisp is a demon that has lost its power; either it has existed in our world for too long without finding a true host or it has been destroyed […].

this is what solas is describing. he approves of an inquisitor utilizing wisps in battle, so long as they care to learn about spirits. but… he also knows that wisps are spirits that were killed and can be reborn, spirits that are too. is this just a trap for the inquisitor? hoping that they’ll learn more about spirits through their practice and that will lead to them realizing that what they’re doing is wrong?

i don’t know. i’m not a solas scholar.

anyway i’m still hung up on the “intelligent spirits” thing. here’s that one dorian and solas banter

solas is on the money here about binding spirits. but the intelligence thing comes up again! if a spirit is intelligent, it shouldn’t be bound or harmed. but a wisp is fine…? granted, that particular line is from a dialogue where he slightly disapproves. and it’s solas. and i don’t know him that well. so. grain of salt. but.

veilguard largely ignores any of this nuance. they say “oh it’s fine because wisps don’t count” and then leave it there. but then when ingellvar talks to a wisp they say this

so… they know wisps are “dead” spirits. right? what solas and cole say is known to the mourn watch. emmrich refers to wisps with “who,” as if they’re people. manfred is right there as our… rather poorly implemented as per my earlier rb, but right there nonetheless, example of a wisp growing into a spirit, actively displaying the humanity of wisps.

but they’re not intelligent, right? so it’s fine, right?

i’m jumping back to inquisition necromancy briefly as a quick added tangent—specifically the spirit mark skill and its upgrade “wisps of the fallen”

the default skill employs a spirit, but the upgraded version employs multiple wisps instead, weaker but more plentiful. i just think that’s interesting. notably, other necromancy skills such as horror (the first skill you unlock lol), power of the dead, and simulacrum have flavor text that describes them as using spirits specifically, not wisps; wisps of the fallen is the only thing on the necromancer tree that specifies wisps

utilizing spirits in magic does not necessarily harm them; spirit healers have been around since origins, and the necromancer skills that utilize spirits don’t imply that they come to harm (save for walking bomb, which is… unclear. in origins it’s described as “magically injecting a target with a corrosive poison” and in 2 and inquisition it’s just “a curse” so i have no idea whether spirits are actually used to cast it?? i’m leaning towards no though).

as a sidenote, the knight-enchanter’s primary ability is called “spirit blade,” but the blade itself is described as being “of solid magic,” not of spirits. it does deal spirit damage though

IF I START ALSO GETTING INTO SPIRIT HEALING and and how spirit healing and origins/2 spirit magic compare with inquisition necromancy i will never shut up so i’m not going to do that right now. but. my POINT is. uh. i don’t really know where i was going with this. something about necromancy and wisps and spirits. wisps being dead/dormant/reborn spirits

the necromancer tree kind of only has 3 abilities that actually deal with the dead. which are

1. death siphon: Every time an enemy dies nearby, you regain both health and mana.

2. power of the dead: Killing enemies attracts spirits that increase the power of your spells for a short time.

3. spirit mark: as above

we know that spirits are drawn to corpses because they can possess them easily and thus leave the fade; this is why the chantry burns their dead and why the nevarrans don’t. that’s really what ties the inherent spirit magic of necromancy to the dead in the first place.

death syphon (as it’s spelled in origins and 2) is particularly interesting because… okay. it’s in the spirit school (death tree) in origins and the spirit tree in da2. it’s described in both as functioning by “consuming entropic energy” from nearby dead. and entropy is its own different thing that comes from “the chaotic nature of the fade” per da2, and god i started getting into it i said i wouldn’t do that. i’ll get back to this sometime

OKAY. THE POINT IS. WISPS. INTELLIGENCE. AUTONOMY. it’s well-established that wisps are spirits in a weaker form, by solas, cole, and (vaguely) the mourn watch (i can’t physically check veilguard so all i have to go off of is a couple clips i saved from emmrich’s recruitment in my ingellvar playthrough and there’s not much in there). so are they not intelligent by nature? does that not imply that controlling wisps is enslaving them just as binding spirits is? that everything the mourn watch does is like, pretty wrong?

and veilguard is just like nah they’re silly little guys who chirp at you and follow you around so it’s okay. we are going to infantilize manfred and make him essentially emmrich’s servant so you don’t think about it too hard. as this one post i’ve had in my drafts for months and will never properly finish says:

in conclusion: i really need a drink

[galadrieljones]

Possession (Rook x Emmrich)

❤️ Dragon Age | Emmrook | Solavellan | one-shot | Mature ❤️

word count: 7,460 Summary: In the Lighthouse, Rook and Emmrich hunt through some of Solas's old records from his time with the Inquisition. What they find brings them closer together, as they embark on a romantic scavenger hunt through memories of the past.

Read here, or at AO3 💫

Possession

JOLENE MERCAR, also known as Rook, was stalemated outside the door of a certain generous and compassionate necromancer. It was late at night. Though time seemed to pass strangely here in the Fade, whenever she was inside the Lighthouse, she could always sort of tell what part of the day it was. Like an enchantment, or an illusion. She knocked on the door.

Emmrich answered. He was very tall, and when he saw her in all of her tiny elven glory, he smiled. He was genuinely surprised to see her, but seemingly very pleased. "Rook," he said. "What a nice surprise."

"Hello, Emmrich," she said, feeling a little stupid. She had her hands behind her back, rocking back on her heels as she spoke. "I was just...popping by. I discovered something, here in the Lighthouse, a hidden room. It belonged to Solas. It's filled with a bunch of notebooks. Diaries and things. Records, lots of them dated back to when he was in the Inquisition. I was going to go through them on my own, see if we could learn anything, but I suddenly felt the urge for company. I thought you might find it all interesting, as an expert on the Fade. You know, like he is."

Emmrich considered. Rook had long, dark hair, which she sometimes wore in a loose braid over her shoulder, but that night, it just fell to the small of her back, like a curtain. Her eyes were light as candles, and he liked her. Something about her forward nature truly intrigued him, and though he did not entirely understand what she might see in him, she came by often, looking for wisdom. She was young, and he could tell that she felt...out of place in all this. In any case, she had never come to him so late at night before. This was new. The promise of what lie ahead, it was very tempting, despite his prevailing sense of discipline and stoicism. He said to her, "I believe I would find that interesting. Thank you, Rook, for thinking of me. Please, come in. Just let me grab some things, and let's be on our way."

As she stood there, demurely, taking stock of Emmrich's vast and detailed inventory, the books and the skulls and the bizarre crystals, she felt excited, happy for the first time since all this began. It was a pretty picture, this place, so strange and haunted, and yet the whimsy, it was like wrapping herself in a warm scarf. Rook was not a mage, and she had not grown up with such displays of magical possibility. Magic was utilitarian where she was from, or else it was devious. But Emmrich, in all of his sparkling oddity, could make even the littlest, most mundane things feel new and awake. Rook often tried to remind herself that, no matter how bad things get, it's the little things in life that truly set you free.

In the music room, Emmrich was delighted by the presence of a piano in the Lighthouse. He honed through a couple of chords, but it sounded like the gloomier depths of the Necropolis. "It's woefully out of tune," he said. "I can come back in the morning, perhaps, make it sing once more."

"You play the piano?" said Rook, feeling wistful. She had picked the lid up off a wooden box, which she had stacked earlier near the high window. Light seemed to flood in, even though it was after ten.

"My skills are a bit lapsed," said Emmrich. "But I trained for many years in my youth. Music is a language all its own. I've found that certain spirits communicate more readily through the wonders of melody."

"Perhaps that's why Solas plays?"

He smiled. "Perhaps."

Rook sat down on a dusty old hope chest. It seemed made of both wood and gold at the same time, and this weirdness with textiles was something that Solas seemed drawn to. Metals that looked like wood, woods that looked like metal. She watched the little particles floating around in the bars of light from the window as she gathered a stack of leather bound notebooks. There were many books and records and things that looked sort of official, like things you might need at some sort of tribunal, but these ones were filled, front to back with what seemed like poetry, math, journal entries, all in Solas's handwriting. It was elegant but rushed. "Some of these notebooks are just filled with what look like complicated arithmetic."

"May I?" said Emmrich. He pulled up the bench from the piano, sat beside Rook at the window. Rook handed him a notebook. He studied the markings, which were strange, but some oddly familiar. "As the maker of the Veil, it would make sense for Solas to be adept at theoretical and applied physics. Some of these formulas are familiar to me and my studies. Others are...well. They are like nothing I've ever seen before."

"He doodles a lot. See?" She showed him the pages of another notebook. This one was more of a sketchbook, she gathered. There were a great many drawings. Mostly faces and animals, sketched out in pencil, loose with an absentminded touch. "This one is cute. Look. A nug."

"That is very amusing."

"If we don't find anything good here, we can always go back to the office," she said. "It's through the door, but it's sort of gloomy. I just brought some of the boxes out here so that we could sit in the light."

"Yes, the light," said Emmrich, studying the windows. "I wonder if the enchantment lives inside, outside, or in the glass itself?"

"In any case, it's pretty," said Rook.

"I agree."

She showed him another sketch, this one more detailed than the others. "Look at this one. Do you recognize this place?" 

It was a castle, or a fortress, misty, and planted deep in a glorious mountain scape. Emmrich studied it closely. He did recognize it, but he was having a difficult time placing it in his memory. "It says right here, Terasylan'Telas. Do you speak elven, Rook?"

"Nope," she said. "My knowledge ends at Andaran Atishan. Mostly."

"Hmm. You know, now that I think of it, I believe this might be Skyhold," he said. 

"Skyhold?"

"The legendary fortress of the Inquisition. It's located somewhere in the Frostback Mountain range, which forms the natural border between the southern Kingdoms of Ferelden and Orlais."

"Ferelden and Orlais," said Rook. "Geez. That's far. Have you ever been?"

"Never," he said. "Until I met you, I never once left Nevarra. Now, here I am, living in an ancient elven sanctuary in the Fade. Such intrigue you bring to my life, Rook."

She blushed a little, or perhaps it was just a trick of the light. "He seems attached to this place," said Rook, turning the pages of the notebook, slowly. There were several more sketches of the castle, from multiple angles, the insides and outsides. "He seems to know it well." 

"Who is this?" said Emmrich. He pointed to a figure, sketched out in the doorway to what appeared to be some sort of rotunda. The form was female, somewhat tall, created with great care, but it was unfinished.

"Who knows," said Rook. "A mystery woman? After this, it's just tons and tons of butterfly sketches. All kinds of them. Guess he's a fan of bugs."

"Let's delegate a little," he said. "Hand me one of those notebooks, if you please."

She obliged. He straightened up and opened the notebook in his lap. "You continue with the sketchbook, and I will investigate this here."

"What is that one?"

"It looks to be some sort of diary," said Emmrich. "Entries, with dates from twelve years back. I'll let you know if I find anything of interest."

"Same here."

They sat for a while, reading. At some point, Rook got antsy and scooched off the hope chest to sit on the floor. She flipped through the pages of the sketchbook, taken with the minute and lovely details of Solas's drawings. After the butterflies, the pages began to fill with the shapes of people, actual people with detailed, unique faces and expressions, which led Rook to believe that they were real. His friends, perhaps? There was a study of a young man with an enormous hat, a tall elven woman with short hair eating a cookie, a human shield maiden reading a book beneath a tree, and a great, Qunari warrior playing chess. At some point, she came across somebody familiar, but the hair had changed. She recognized him from Minrathous. It was Dorian Pavus, holding a skull near a candle. This awakened something strange inside her, like an eclipse. Late in the book, there was a sketch of Varric, situated from the side. He was holding a flagon, sitting in a tavern somewhere, and he looked pensive. Rook almost said something to Emmrich about it, but she kept it inside. She wasn't sure why. It just felt like opening a can of big, fat worms, which she wasn't ready to open yet.

But then. "Very interesting," said Emmrich. "Very interesting indeed."

"Did you find something?"

"I'm not entirely sure," said Emmrich. "There's a fair bit of elven in here, which I do not understand. But not all of it. This, here, it is written mostly in the common language. It appears to be a prose poem? A ballad of some sort."

"What's it about?"

"Well, as it is a ballad, which means it is about love."

"A love poem? By the Dread Wolf?"

"Come here, Rook. Have a look at this."

She got up from the hardwood floor and went and sat down next to Emmrich on the piano bench. He was big beside her, and she was temporarily taken by his scent. Like rosemary, subtle. His clothing was simple tonight, she thought, unadorned. Just a cream collared shirt, seemed made of cotton, very soft, well-tailored, and expensive. He opened the notebook between them, so that she could follow along. "Listen," he said. He pointed to the page in question and read aloud, solemnly and with great care. As he spoke, with such a soft gravitas, the world around her seemed to change:

Light gathers on the sea, where we sit on the pier. It approaches and folds beside you like an envelope. I do not know how it folds, but it seems to anyway.  It disregards me entirely. On this day in Val Royeaux, as we watch the seamen mooring their ships,  you whisper, "What is that, vhenan?" You speak of a white bird, which has landed on a barrel. "Some sort of egret," I say. I can tell that you already knew that. You just like to ask questions, and you think it's funny. The word "egret," you say, sounds funny in my mouth.  The light finds you here. It finds your eyes here. It disregards me entirely, The light. I could not have made it any more beautiful myself.  It has a mind of its own as it touches you. And you find me, ara avise'ain.

The room was silent, but for the tense ticking of a clock somewhere.

"What a wonderful, if not monumental relic," said Emmrich, his heart stayed. "I am taken aback by this. I should like to read it again and again. What do you think, Rook?"

Rook shook herself out of a deep but ethereal trance then. It felt like something was wrong with her. She realized right then that she had leaned in a little close, the whole time he'd been reading. Her cheek, it brushed against the soft fabric at his shoulder. He did not seem bothered. He seemed very comfortable there beside her.

"I think..." she said, trailing off. "I think...it's just...so erotic."

This seemed to intrigue him greatly. "Erotic?" he said. "Quite the interpretation, Rook. You speak of his use of light, perhaps?"

"Yeah," she said. "How it's always folding and...touching the water, touching her. The mention, too, of the word egret, and how it sounds in his mouth. It just calls to mind their...intimacy. Something was going on here."

"Very good," said Emmrich. "I do agree. It seems that perhaps the Dread Wolf may have taken a secret lover during his time with Inquisition."

"Perhaps the woman that he drew? The one in the doorway of the rotunda?"

"Perhaps."

"Ara avise'ain," she said. "Are there any other uses of this word?"

"Hmm," said Emmrich. He flipped forward a few pages. There was a great deal of elven here. It was sort of like fishing for diamonds through a deft and elegant swamp. But he caught on something, quickly, then studied. He gave her the notebook. "Here. Read this, Rook."

She stared at the poem. She tried to concentrate, but then, she felt him nudge her gently in the shoulder with his own.

She sort of jumped. "What's wrong?" 

"Read it aloud, if you please," he said, softly. "I'd like to hear it in your voice. It is so much more meaningful that way."

"Oh," she said. "Sure. Here goes." She cleared her throat.

I knocked, wondering if you had forgotten. You had not. You were braiding your hair. You said, "I was worried." Vhenan, who worries. Sometimes I feel like a star, which has already died. You say to me, "Sleep here." You invite me inside.  Where it is safe. A nest. Maybe here? You bring me in with both hands. I take off your dress. Why can't I go home, avise'ain? Where the candles flicker to death, withholding, and there are only teeth. 

"Shit," said Rook.

"I echo the sentiment," said Emmrich.

"This is really...wow. I wasn't expecting this," she said. "Only teeth? Fuck."

"I am concerned about the metaphor," said Emmrich. "It does not bode well for the Dread Wolf."

"I wish I knew what that word meant," she said. " Avise'ain. I know what vhenan means. It's like, an elven term of endearment. It means my heart. Or something."

"I wonder if, perhaps, Bellara, or Davrin could help us with the elven."

"That's a good idea," she said. "But Bellara's asleep. She was up late last night, tweaking the eluvian. Told me she wanted to turn in early."

"Then Davrin it is," said Emmrich. They set off.

When they found Davrin, he was lying flat on his back, on the hardwood floor, staring up at the ceiling while Assan, confused, licked his palm.

"Davrin?" 

"Hello, Rook."

"What the hell are you doing on the floor?"

He turned his head to see them. They stood just inside the entryway. There were stacks of old books on the table, the wooden carvings lined up. Davrin kept a very nice space. He was neat and discerning, but he was not a minimalist.

"Emmrich?" he said. It was like a light turning on. "Wait. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is just fine," reassured Emmrich. "But, we are wondering the same of you. Are you often taken with lying on the floor, Davrin?"

"Not at all," said Davrin. He got to his feet, slowly, like he was drunk. He wasn't drunk. He was just...exhausted? "Assan won't sleep. I thought, maybe if I lie here on the floor, he'd doze off next to me. But. No dice."

"Aw, poor Assan," said Rook, patting the sweet creature on his feathered head.

"Poor Assan?" said Davrin. "How about poor me?"

"Poor you," said Rook. 

He smiled. Assan squawked. "What are you guys doing here? Isn't it kind of late?"

"A little," said Rook.

"We require your assistance with the elven language. How are you with translation, Davrin?"

"Pretty good," he said. "What's going on?"

"We found some of Solas's old records, in a secret room, next to the library," Emmrich continued. "They are from his time with the Inquisition. It's quite interesting. A good deal of it is written in elven, however, and neither Rook nor I speak the language."

"Solas is an ancient elf," said Davrin. "I never really learned that dialect. I know a little, but it's rare."

"Can you try?" said Rook.

Davrin sighed. He scratched at the back of his head and then plopped down into the armchair by the fire. "Have a seat," he said. "Let me see."

Emmrich handed Davrin the open notebook, the one with the poetry, and then he and Rook sat down on the floor, like children. Assan watched the whole interaction, rapt and wide awake as Davrin took to studying the elven.

"These poems here are written in the common tongue," said Emmrich. "But there is an elven word used multiple times. Avise'ain. It perplexes us."

"Can you tell us what it means?" said Rook.

"Holy shit," said Davrin, reading the poem about the pier, and the egret. He read it multiple times. Then he looked at Rook, his face screwed up like he'd seen a ghost. "Do you know who he wrote this for?"

"No, we don't," said Rook.

He made a low whistle. "This shit is deep."

"What does it mean?" said Rook, urging him back to the task at hand. " Avise'ain?"

"Right," said Davrin. "Well, this word isn't something I've seen before. But it's not ancient elven. It's contemporary. See this? The suffix, -ain , is a diminutive. It means little, or petite. Avise is a form of the word ise, which means fire. Avise means flame. Avise'ain means—"

"Little flame," said Rook. "Like, a pet name maybe?"

"That's exactly what it is," said Davrin. "And see this here? Here, he uses the possessive, ara, which means my. My little flame. Whoever this was, they were definitely...well, I think you know."

"I believe the correct term is intimate, Davrin. No need to be coy."

Davrin almost started laughing. "Touche. Does seem a little strange though, speculating about the sex life of an ancient elven god."

"Solas didn't present himself as a god to the Inquisition," said Rook. "He didn't even tell them he was an ancient elf. According to Varric, he just presented as an apostate. He said he was a fade mage, same as you, Emmrich."

"That inspires my curiosity, to be sure," he said.

Davrin flipped through the book some more, studying the handwriting. "All this other stuff is ancient," said Davrin. "Except for this one word, avise'ain, which is in common elven. Why?"

"Perhaps the woman to whom he assigned his pet name is not an ancient elf," said Emmrich. "If she doesn't speak the dialect, it would make little sense for him to use it."

"So she's a regular elf? Or...a new elf? Like me and Davrin?" said Rook.

"Yes, and it's also likely that she speaks the common dialect."

"So, she's Dalish," said Davrin. 

"Are you sure you can't read any of this other stuff?" said Rook. "These poems and entries. You can't read the ancient elven? Even a little?"

Davrin squinted at the pages in deep concentration, which seemed to lure Assan closer to his side. He sidled up to Davrin's chair and placed his head in his lap. Davrin stroked the beast's neck absentmindedly, a darling display. "Hmm," he said.

"Hmm?" said Rook.

"I can't translate this word for word," he said. "That's for sure. I just don't know the vocabulary. But elven, it's more than just a language. It's like a feeling. If you're an elf, that is. Especially this old stuff. Shit, it's a little like music. Rook, even though you don't know how to speak it, I bet if you read this, and you focused really hard, like really hard, you would understand what I'm talking about."

"What exactly are you talking about?"

"You can sense the story," he said. "Solas, in his words, is telling a story. I can see it in my mind's eye, like...ancestral memory."

"I don't know how I feel about sharing ancestral memories with Solas," said Rook.

"Well, I think we do. Whether we like it or not." He handed her the book. "Here. Just take a look."

She looked at Davrin, a little apprehensive. She had never been very elfy. Sort of like self-preservation in Tevinter. In fact, in her quotidian life, before all this, it was typical for her to simply forget what she was half the time. When it struck her, and she remembered, it was always in these horrible moments of existential unease. On the street corners. On the docks. She had considered leaving Minrathous thousands of times before her twenty-fifth birthday, for thousands of reasons. But she never had anywhere to go. Until now, of course.

Suddenly she felt Emmrich's hand, big and soft on her shoulder. He squeezed once, then lowered his mouth, close to her ear. He said, "You can do it, Rook. I believe in you. Just give it a whirl."

She felt very hot all of a sudden, in her cheeks, and it zinged straight back to her eartips. But still, it was comforting. He was such a comforting presence, calming all her stupid bullshit with one single, casual touch. She said, "Okay. I'll try."

She picked up the book. The words made little sense. As Davrin had said, even for elven, it was out of whack, bizarrely tuned, as if invented on the spot. But then, after a moment, she felt a kind of warm, snowy sensation in the back of her brain. It was like fuzz, and then it spread, and it came into focus. Like a crystal. It spun there, at the center of her brain. She looked up at Emmrich, and she said, "I felt something."

"Wonderful," said Emmrich. "What did you feel?"

"This is a story," she said, tapping her finger to the words. "It's about rooftops, am I right?" She looked to Davrin.

"Yes," he said. "Rooftops, mountains. Her hair, like, it's everywhere, right? Did you get that?"

"I did. Maybe that means it's windy?" 

"Good call. Also, there's a tear in the sky. He compares it to an eye, watching them. Like they're never alone. But he wants her. Bad. He wants to be free, to be with her."

"Emmrich," said Rook, serious now.

"Yes? I must say. This is quite entertaining, you two."

"You've read the Inquisition folklore. Are you sure you never saw any references to a romance?"

"I have only read the canonical texts," he said, "which, beyond names and basic formalities, in no way addresses any interpersonal aspect of the people involved. So, no."

"You should go talk to Harding," said Davrin. "She was in the Inquisition. She might know."

"Oh my gosh," said Rook. "You're right."

"You're also in luck," said Emmrich, voice low, his hands clasped in front of him, very debonair. He nodded toward Assan, who had fallen asleep, his head heavy in Davrin's lap, very still, eyes closed, breathing even. "It seems our discussion of ancient elven poetry lulled your young griffon here right to sleep."

Davrin surveyed the situation, dropped his head back and blinked up at the ceiling. "Guess I should get comfortable."

"We'll see you in the morning," said Rook, very eager. Emmrich had got to his feet first, extended a hand to her. She took it, stood tall, and dusted herself off. "Thank you for your help, Davrin. That was...interesting."

"Any time," he said.

As they crossed the great courtyard in the middle of the night, they both looked up to the deep, dark Fade sky at the same exact time. There was a shooting star, or, that's what it looked like. It was big and molten, like a long column of light which then simply disappeared from existence. This dazzled Rook, but it also unnerved her. She had never really been outside before when the Lighthouse went dark. She'd had no idea that there were stars here.

"This place shall never cease to amaze me," said Emmrich, in wonderment. "Stars and night. The chattering sounds of inexplicable nature. We are floating on a cloud, it seems, and yet, there are butterflies and opossums. I can sense them in the underbrush. Solas made this place comfortable many years ago. He wanted his people to feel at home here."

"When we first arrived," said Rook, "the place was falling apart. I think Solas was living here, before the ritual, but it feels like there are parts of the castle he never went to, like he lived in two, maybe three of the rooms tops. Everywhere else, he just left it sealed away. Like a tomb."

"The bachelor pad of a god is sad indeed," said Emmrich. "Particularly if he is on the wrong side of love. Let us continue our scavenger hunt, Rook. I am enjoying this evening immensely. Thank you for asking me to accompany you on your search tonight."

"You're welcome," she said, smiling like an idiot. He held out his arm to her then, an unexpected gesture, but she took it anyway. Even though she was not afraid of the dark, she was hesitant, walking through the Fade like this. She was not used to such big, cold, and cosmic magic. 

Emmrich sensed this, as he so often did. "Do not fear this place, dear Rook," he said. "Allow it to become familiar, and it will embrace you, as a home."

They started toward Harding's. They could see the light from her lantern, a long, golden bar at the bottom of the door. "Is that what you do?" said Rook.

"Yes, it is," he said. "Like a scent on the breeze. I will not forget it for all my years."

When they got to Harding's door, it was like she had seen them coming. She stayed up late.

"Rook?" she said. "Is that you?"

"It is," she said. "It's me, and Emmrich. Are you decent?"

"Sure am," said Lace. She opened the door, seeming delighted. She was wearing red pajamas with her hair in a braid and holding a cup of tea. "What brings you two around so late at night?"

Emmrich smiled, his face going a little crinkly. "We won't take up much of your time, Lace. We just have a few questions for you, concerning your time in the Inquisition. May we come in?"

"Definitely," she said, holding the door wide open and standing back to give them room. As she shut the door behind them, Rook noticed the remnants of some sort of art project. There were what appeared to be curtains, draped over a table, and several spools of colorful thread. Harding seemed to be practicing her embroidery.

"I love the curtains," said Rook.

"Oh, thank you. I'm just trying to make this place feel a little more like home. You know?" 

Emmrich glanced at Rook, very knowing.

"So," said Lace. "You guys wanna talk about the Inquisition? What did you wanna know?"

"We have been scouring some of Solas's old records," said Emmrich. "Rook found a secret room inside, near the library. It's full of old notebooks and things. Much of it dated back to Solas's time with the Inquisition."

"Interesting," said Harding. "Find anything good?"

"Yes," said Rook, a little anxious. "We found love poems."

"Love poems?" said Harding, sort of giggling. "Really? Wow. I mean, I knew Solas was an artist, but a writer, too? Wow."

"Wow, indeed," said Emmrich. "We came here tonight to ask whether you know anything about a woman that Solas might have been seeing at the time. Someone in the Inquisition, perhaps? She was likely a Dalish elf."

There was a long pause then, in which Lace stared at them both as if she thought they might be on drugs. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No, we aren't," said Rook. "The stuff he wrote. It was really...passionate. Do you know anything about it?"

"Uh, yeah. I do," said Lace.

"Really?" said Emmrich. "Who was it? The woman, we mean?"

"Inquisitor Lavellan."

It was like a boulder, falling off a cliff.

"The Inquisitor?" said Rook. 

"Oh, my dear," said Emmrich. "This is a surprise."

Lace shrugged, like it was just any other factoid. "I'm surprised you guys don't know. I guess I just assumed that everybody did. It was all over the tabloids, at least down south. People can't get enough of that shit. Sene's love life has been under scrutiny for years. It really pisses her off, but I mean, what can you do? Idle minds, am I right?"

Rook opened the notebook, which she'd had tucked under her arm. She showed Lace the poems. She said, "He loved her. A lot. We're pretty sure that everything in here, at least in this notebook, is all about her. It's full of poems and stories. What happened between them?"

"Solas and Sene were crazy in love," said Lace, sipping her tea, reminiscing. "Like I said, it was no secret. They were great together. Inseparable. They used to have picnics on the battlements at Skyhold, talk for hours on the rooftops at Haven. He would braid her hair before they went out into the field. It was just...romantic. I used to talk to them all the time, when we would deploy to different regions, trying to bring people and their factions into the Inquisition. She would sit and watch him paint his frescoes, and he made her these butterflies out of his magic, like little presents. Hundreds of them, green and glowy, all the time. Everywhere. They would just fly around the rotunda, and the garden, like part of the decor. It was so dreamy and romantic."

"Green, glowy butterflies?" said Rook. "There's a bunch of them here, flitting about in the bushes. I've seen tons of them, flying around the Crossroads, too."

"Yup," said Lace. "Those are them. I'm not surprised that she's left her mark here. The way Solas looked at her, it was so...intense. I thought he was gonna ask her to marry him. It was really serious. And, like I said, everybody knew. They were just...Sene and Solas. Solas and Sene. The tabloids used to refer to Sene as the Tall Red Elf and Solas as the Tall Elven Warrior at her Side. Anyway, be careful, Rook. This is...kind of a long story, and Sene is a close friend of mine. She practically lived at my house for like a year once, down in the Hinterlands. I'll tell you stuff, but like, keep it clean. I'm not getting into the weeds here, okay?"

Rook fell silent. She did not really know much about Inquisitor Lavellan, or the Inquisition at all. It was not a common topic of discussion in Tevinter. And yet, even still, she was a bit of a celebrity, mainly with the Chantry, as the Herald of Andraste. They talked about her all the time in the holy newsletters and things like that. Debates over whether her claims to prophesy were legitimate, or whether she even believed them herself, seeing as she was an elf. Rook knew that she was Dalish, but she hadn't really put it together, until now.

"We promise to be civilized in our questioning," said Emmrich, taking over. "We will of course respect your loyalties to Inquisitor Lavellan. But please forgive me, as I must ask. You make it sound like he was over the moon for her, and yet, you said he left? Why?"

"At the time," she said, "Sene didn't know. None of us did. Nobody knew that he was the Dread Wolf. We just thought he was some really powerful apostate. After we killed Corypheus, he just...left. She was devastated, but at some point, she moved on. Or, she tried to. She was in another pretty serious relationship when Solas finally showed himself again two years later, during the Exalted Council in Halamshiral. He explained everything, that he was the Dread Wolf, that he wanted to bring down the Veil, that he still loved her, but that he had to go, and he would not take her with him. That was important. Anyway, based on what Sene told me, I think he originally intended to just use the Inquisition, like a pawn, to help him further his plans. But it didn't go so hot. He accidentally fell in love. He made friends, too. Kind of a huge, fantastic failure...I guess."

"So it was after the Exalted Council," said Rook. "That's when they last saw each other?

"In person, yeah," said Lace.

"What do you mean in person?" said Emmrich.

"Solas is a dreamer," said Lace, taken with the thought. "Rook knows. He can walk in peoples' dreams. As far as I know, he's visited her, quite a lot, over the past ten years. Where they stood at any given time, it was sort of on and off, but it was consistent, to some degree."

"Does he still love her?" said Emmrich, seeming desperately curious. Too tall, he was nearly hunched in half, trying to lean into their conversation. 

"Probably," said Lace, her voice soft all of a sudden. She became wistful. She looked away, toward the window. "They were special. They meant everything to one another. It was the kind of love that you aspire to, you know? And I mean, she still loves him. That, I know for sure. Sene went through a couple different men, trying to move on. But despite both of them being great guys, neither of them stuck, not like he did."

"Which men?"

Lace sighed, setting down her mug on the table next to the curtains. "This is where I call it a night. I'm not getting into all that. You're gonna have to read about it in the tabloids like everyone else."

Emmrich seemed to be thinking about this in a practical manner. "We can probably find them in the Magisterial Library of Minrathous. I'm sure they keep records of every tabloid and newspaper in Thedas, going back at least 100 years."

"Or, you know," said Lace. "I guess you could just ask Inquisitor Lavellan, herself. I'm sure you'll meet her. Soon."

"I will?" said Rook.

Lace shrugged again. She was doing that a lot. Like it was all just old hat to her. "Sene is close to Morrigan," she said. "And she also has Lady Nightingale, the best Spymaster in all of Thedas. I guarantee that she knows all about this by now, everything that's happened. And she'll also know, too, that you're the one leading the charge here, Rook. She'll know that Solas is trapped in the Fade, and that you're the only one who can talk to him. So, of course, she's gonna wanna meet you. Probably soon. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if, when you go to meet Morrigan at the Cobbled Swan in a couple days, she'll be there, too. Then again, who knows? She's got her hands full. Given everything my ma said in her last letter, the south is...under siege. There's a bad fight there, and lots of Blight. All hands on deck." Harding looked down into her tea, pensive, and then she looked at the floor. "I'm okay," she said, to no one. 

"Is your mother safe?" said Emmrich, placing his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, like she was terribly relieved that he asked.

"I think so," she said. "She went to Skyhold, with a lot of other people. I'm pretty sure that's where Sene is. Or, she goes back and forth a lot, with her Commander. Cullen. It's become like, a sanctuary. Like what this place used to be."

"Harding," said Rook. "I'm sorry. I didn't...I should have asked you about this earlier."

"It's okay, Rook," she said, smiling once more. "I get it. We have our hands full up here, too."

Emmrich straightened up then, and something about his massive height seemed to change the atmosphere. He seemed to know it, too. He clasped his hands behind his back and said, "Well, we should take our leave. Thank you, Lace. This has been most educational."

"Now that you know," she said to Rook, "what will you do? Are you gonna mention it, next time you see Solas?"

Rook thought about it. She could not picture it. Whenever she thought about him, about Solas, her mind twisted into a riddle, and she could no longer tell what was real. She had only ever seen him from far away, up on a huge pedestal, or in the Fade, where everything was grim, and he was removed from her grasp, as cold and hard as steel. He was a total stranger, and yet, she relied on him. In this moment, she felt hugely young, raw, spilled open, her guts all over the floor. She did not want to hurt the Dread Wolf. He was like a music box, rusted shut, and there was just something so strange about it. So pretty, this idea that he held inside of him this intense history. Love, sex, all the things that made him a man and not a god. "I don't know," she said to Harding. "I need to think on it."

"Well, goodnight," said Lace. "See you in the morning. Lucanis is making breakfast so, don't miss it."

Outside, Rook and Emmrich stood at the center of the midnight courtyard and stared up at the enormous idol of Fen'Harel. Oddly now, standing here in front of this enormous statue, her thoughts turned away from Solas and instead settled with the man by her side. It was so strange, she thought. From the very first day she met him, he disarmed her. He took her guard completely down, and he told her to light brassieres and they fought demons, and they were talking to spirits. She said hello to a little wisp, and it had made her heart beat strangely. He told her he had never been out of Nevarra, and he seemed starved for adventure, and yet, it had been him who'd swept her off her feet, took her on a grand field trip through the Necropolis, this well of magic, everywhere, all the time, living and breathing with a mind of its own. He had opened her eyes that day.

He was older, but she didn't much care. He did not treat her like a child. Sometimes, he did treat her like a student. But he did that to everyone, and in any case, it was never condescending. It's just who he was. The professor. He was not steel, nor was he even terribly guarded. He did not give in to her easily though, that was for sure. He moved slowly, deliberately, all those times she would go to talk to him, ask him questions about what he thought about all of this, about the Veil. He kept his distance until it really mattered, as if every choice he made would determine who they were, together, and in this, she knew that she could trust him. 

"What do you think of all this, Rook?" he said then, smiling at her. "Have your opinions of Solas changed in any way?"

"A little," she said. "I need to sleep on it. I just...I realize that I don't know him at all. He barely even seems like a person sometimes, let alone a man who could...well, you know."

Emmrich held out his hand then, and from his palm, he snapped a little wisp, white and pure. It buzzed around her nose and landed in her hair like a bug, and she laughed. "Do you like it?" he said, very debonair.

"Yes," she said.

"You know, Inquisitor Lavellan is not a mage either," he said, growing pensive, his brow furrowed. "She was at the Conclave, sent as a representative for her clan, which, as I recall, is fairly important in the Free Marches. They own a great deal of land there. Even still, she was one lowly elf among an entire Chantry. She was certainly judged, and certainly alone. There are records, which state that, after the explosion at the temple, which resulted in the death of Divine Justinia, the Seekers of Truth wanted to arrest her for apostasy, for treason, for murder. You name it. She was ostracized far before she was ever beloved. And she was young when the Inquisition began, only twenty, if I recall from the literature, and the Chantry experts distrusted her immensely, even after she was named Inquisitor. Many were especially critical of her as the prophetic Herald of Andraste . But others believed, and among them, I imagine, Solas. He followed her. He loved her. Just like with this place, he desired to warm her heart, to make her feel comfortable, at home in an icy, mean, judgmental landscape. Perhaps because he understood what that meant? To be so ostracized, so fantastically alone. Part of that was the butterflies, I imagine, and that is why they linger still. That little wisp I just conjured up, you said you like it. Does it bring you warmth, Rook? Joy?"

Rook held it in her hand now, like a little poof of cool, calm energy. It seemed to vibrate with admiration, glowing up at her, like it was alive. "It does," she said. She set it free then, and it disappeared. "Thank you, Emmrich."

"Whatever the Dread Wolf is or isn't," he went on, "I think it is clear by now that he is, ultimately, just a man. He has desires, needs, and she fulfilled them, as he fulfilled hers. These were needs that had either not been fulfilled before, or not in some time. She thawed his heart, and he kept her safe, and they found a home in one another. Even if it was short-lived, it is more than most will possess in their lifetimes."

Rook felt impulsive then. She could hear the words that he was saying, and she knew that he was right, but she was lost in the feeling and the sound. She wanted to express herself. She wasn't shiny or particularly eloquent like he was. Definitely not a poet. She didn't have beautiful things to say or magical creatures she could conjure into the air. But she did have action. She had always been good at just...doing things. No fear. She slid her hand into his then. He looked down right away, at their fingers mingled together, like he was startled, and then he looked at her, laid bare. 

She said, "Is it okay? I don't know what to say. I just...I want to show you how I feel."

He was very soft then, his eyes dark and filled with a hidden sadness, which tempted her. What was it? Where did it live? What did it see? He picked up her hand, and he closed his eyes and brought her knuckles to his lips. It disarmed her and made her weak, and she sort of shivered. Their eyes met. He said, quietly, "Language can be superfluous in times like these, dear Rook. But, please, know that I feel it, too."

So, she kissed him, in front of the Dread Wolf statue at midnight, in the Fade. She had to stand on her tallest tiptoes to do it. At first, just like with the handhold, he was taken aback, but he quickly molded to her, his other hand on her jaw, as he touched her ear with tenderness. It was not devouring. It was pure. Tallest mage, so full of compassion. He seemed to unlock for her that night, a click and release.

Rook did not have much to hide. She didn't understand people who did. But she could try. That night, Emmrich walked her back to her room, and they shared one more kiss before parting until morning. She sat down on the couch in the blue, aqueous light of her quarters, vibrating and giddy, and watched the fish do their little immortal dancing. She thought about Inquisitor Lavellan, twenty years old, a Dalish elf in the Chantry, and how lonely that must have felt for her. How scary, how out of place she was and the deep, impending desire to return to the home that she knew, somehow, she would never really see again. Not as it once was, as a child. But then, there was a man who came along and made it feel okay to just be alive, no matter how you did it, or how new you were to the world. A man who seemed to know everything, who could stand so tall, and yet, who nursed inside of him a heart so true that it could not be contained. And so they were consumed by possession, discovery, desire. 

*This story, though it stands alone, is also a part of my Solavellan fic Riptide.

[dualumina]

"You've become familiar with the Domain of the Lost, haven't you, Commander?"

"...Some days I'm not sure I ever came back from there."

Our twice dead boy, Lio!

Either The Judge has a lot of pity for the littlest guy - dying in a wurm attack before the personal story even begins and then a certain god of war later down the line - or Judge knew there'd be a lot more dead showing up if Lio was sent to his final destination.

Maybe it's a mix of both.

Some people might mistake Lio for a necromancer simply due to how much death magic radiates off of him. Doesn't exactly help any self esteem issues, not to mention the underlying guilt of others having died due to his actions as commander... which he isn't even the original for that matter. The OG commander quit after Trahearne's death, and well the Pact needed someone to take over.

Granted the Pact didn't blindly pick anyone; Lio was the one who teamed up with the eventual Dragon's Watch squad to stop Scarlet. Lio definitely grew very fond of the folks in Dragon's Watch since - including Aurene.

(Let's just say that Late Marshal Stance was veeery focused on finding Trahearne in HoT and was completely uninvolved with Aurene's care).

Aurene's even joked a couple of times that she needs to die one more time to catch up with the Commander. Lio nervously laughs each time and urges her to absolutely do not.

Despite Gorrik being Gorrik, Lio has a special fondness for both him and his brother, partly due to being an asura engineer himself, but notably in Blish's case being able to bond over having mechanical limb - or body - replacements.

(Lio did not take Blish's death any better than Gorrik to say the least... but he's a bit better at hiding the fact.)

Despite being kind of... shoved into the role of Wayfinder, Lio is freakin' THRIVING among the Astral Ward. Without Aurene around, it's nice to have the chance to occupy himself with research and going back to discovering new things in a- well slightly less urgent pace, which the Ward and Isgarren provide.

Commander may have been the role that Lio took over, but Wayfinder was the role that was truly Lio's from the get go.

[druidgroves]

i also think it would be funny if vida was just the mourn watch's little necromancer darling up until they "encouraged her to travel" following the war of the banners. everyone knew her, at least 70% of the members have babysat her or aided in her studies, and would affectionately refer to her as the littlest crypt keeper. so i imagine by the time veilguard starts she's homesick and trying to figure out who she is apart from the mourn watch.

[starlightarchery]

EMMRICH IS HERE

the littlest bone daddy ever, i'm in LOOOOOVE 😍 i am absolutely going to take him with me everywhere. pocket necromancer.

[ikeofeyes-art]

Local Wizard adopts Evil Necromancer; Local Necromancer is given a lollipop for being an agreeable young man!

@evilwizard @wizardschooldropout

[pinwheelfunhouse]

stimboard masterpost!!

semi-organized list of all the stimboards & icons i've made!

made this because tumblr tags simply will not work sometimes so this is just an easier way to see what characters i've done!

fnaf edition masterpost is here!

the owl house:

luz noceda

hunter

possessed!hunter

the collector

caleb wittebane

hooty

willow park

stringbean

titan!luz

don't hug me i'm scared:

yumpherdinker

1

2

saturdavid

shy imaginary older brother

bubble bath memory

first tooth

red guy

coffin

resident evil:

lucas baker

ethan winters

rose winters

leon kennedy

luis sera

castle crashers:

painter

pink knight

blacksmith

necromancer

frost king

undead cyclops

wizard minion

evil wizard

cuphead:

king dice

faith the unholy trinity:

john ward

michael davies

my faith self insert

team fortress 2:

red scout

night in the woods:

mae borowski

mystery skulls animated

vivi yukino

transformers:

soundwave

soul eater:

crona

dr stein

littlest pet shop:

lps #520 (party ferret)

insidious:

specs and tucker

undertale:

chara

ultrakill:

ferryman

spiderverse:

miles morales

hobie brown

house of ashes:

salim othman

fallout:

benny gecko

cookie run:

gingerbright

black butler:

grell sutcliff

inscryption:

disney:

the mycologists

magnificus

rubberhose mickey mouse

stranger things:

mike wheeler

awful hospital:

staph

fern

arcane:

jinx

genshin impact:

xiao

invader zim:

dib membrane

professor membrane

the hex:

???

superjail:

techno twins

spooky month:

kevin

dexter

tealerland:

willow

dayshift at freddy's:

blackjack

five nights at candy's:

blank

sonic the hedgehog:

shadow and sonic

stimboard

icons

knuckles

hamtaro:

penelope

the muppets:

gonzo

good omens:

crowley

madness combat:

hank j wimbleton

willy's wonderland:

willy

hazbin hotel:

alastor

charlie and lucifer

the nightmare before christmas:

jack skellington

pet sematary:

pet sematary

bullet train:

prince

music:

2d (gorillaz)

papa emeritus iii / terzo (ghost)

youtube:

ghost files

vanossgaming

people's sonas / oc's:

my sona

@/swordmachine's sona

@/gaypostaldude's sona

greyson (@/professionallydeadinside)

benni (@/sillybakeoven)

guardian star (@/sillybakeoven)

michela (@/rosemary-posts-random-crap)

dante the skunk (@/agirlwithmagicpals)

chroma (@/lowpolyparrot)

miscellaneous:

ferrets

pupgender

el wiwi

dark blue water

stimboard based on the name "ruru"

[starforger-backup]

character color: maha

Green characters are often hotheaded and brash, unafraid to speak their mind. They make for excellent leaders and teachers, and tend to be most devoted to a specific field, which they do well in. They have a lot of confidence in themselves, and although they can’t always see themselves positively, they are good about respecting themselves. They have a lot of common sense but are equally likely to strategically plan something out as to rush in on an impulse. They often have to work hard to get others to respect them, and sometimes receive less of it when people find out who they are. Still, they are not afraid to make others uncomfortable by being themselves, and are unlikely to waver when someone wants them to change against their will. They can be brash and loud, but also very quiet and secretive. Their humor can be a bit rude, and they don’t always display friendship and affection to the people they care about in the most conventional ways. However, they’re quite easygoing, witty, and fun-loving people. They don’t like when people are flighty and prefer to work with people who don’t quit and stand their ground. They stand out from others, both because of the way they approach the world, and because of how skilled they tend to be at what they do. Some people may not suspect that they are harmonious because of their blunt nature, but they are surprisingly good and reasonable diplomats, and can employ a lot of meaningful tact when the situation calls for it. They may feel a sense of distance or abandonment from their parental figures, as they often became emotionally or physically absent sometime in their life. Green characters hate being told what to do and put into a box, and are likely to challenge authority. They can be hard to work with at times due to their stubbornness, but they bring a lot to the table and tend to round out their friend groups. They need people in their lives who respect them, care about them, and listen to them, as well as offer them companionship without requiring them to conform to a certain preset standard.

Quiz

Tagged by @under-the-blood-moonlight​

Tagging @witchesandwishes​ @xiv-necromancer​ @vazaymir​ @mai-takeda​ @zhauric​ @talion-graves​ @syrcus-tower​ @the-littlest-kojin​ @luck-and-larceny​ @umbral-flare-ffxiv​

[sunxxblessed]

( Anyway I decided to just add on all my Trevelyan’s (they’re siblings) bc why not but also because I really wanna write my littlest Trevelyan Claire, she’s so sweet and loves pretty things and is also a Necromancer Mage and I love her )

[tigertoes93]

My Kenku for Dnd!

[feralworks]

Little #FlashbackFriday to this sculpture sketch I started, “The Littlest Necromancer” I love this piece and hope that some day I can bring it to completion as a resin kit! You know, in my non-existent free time 😅 #sculpture #zbrush #necromancy #darkart #creepy #sculpt #sketch #digital #render https://www.instagram.com/p/CTGLS6aLluy/?utm_medium=tumblr

[crownlessliestheking]

Someone on twitter correctly said it would be sexy if Thranduil got corrupted by the One Ring.

He sits on the throne in the fortress, and it is the eye of the storm. His people- his subjects- are righting the ruin, stones fitting into place, the great boughs of the trees curling inwards. The brambles growing ever sharper, dripping tarry poison from their thorns.

His kingdom will be protected, he will see it so. The taint has been purged, the Necromancer dwells no more in his forest. The spiders, too, will be gone. And those who had dared cross his borders, those who dared try to pluck his power in their covetous jealousy? The roots shall have their bones. Already the trees grow over them, already the crows pluck a gleaming blue eye from a half-rotted face, recognizable only by the burnished gold and silver hair of the corpse's head. Not so beautiful now, is fair Galadriel, in her arrogance. Not so wise now, is Elrond Peredhel, in his presumption. Not so cautious now, is Círdan, who was once master of boats, who turned traitor as did the rest.

Thranduil is the Elvenking; now he is the only king of Elves, as there has not been since Thingol in Doriath and its splendor. He will remake Doriath twice over; he has already avoided a mistake with Dwarves. He will be Elu Thingol and Melian together, but more powerful, for his girdle will never fail and fade with grief. He is not so weak as her.

It was a small thing. The littlest gleam of gold on the finger of a desperate little creature. But it chose him, and Thranduil closes his eyes, the burn of dragonfire in his soul soothed. He is king, and the forest will bend to his will as it never had before. He is its master.

He stands, and his robes drag against stones that eagerly drank the blood of his father, the blood of his kin.

Three stars glimmer on the fingers of one hand, but they pale in comparison to the gravity of the One.

[the-loveliest-lies-of-all]

I’ve come to realization tonight that Klaroline is never happening. Like I know they never ended up together on the shows of course but both kept having feelings for each other through out time and the time wasn’t just right for them two at those moments. However because all that I had this idea that years and years (maybe centuries) later after all the crap that’s been going around them during tvd and to will be long gone they will meet again and just... well... be together. They are so right for each other. So good for each other. And it doesn’t even matter if their love story would be ���always and forever” or they would broke up after some time together. What matters is that they should’ve had a chance to share that love.

But stupid screenwriters thought better. They just killed Klaus. And was there an actual reason to do that? No. It was pointless and heartbreaking loss. Niklaus could have everything he ever wanted. He was this close to have it all - family, love, friends even! But it was a show finale and they thought they needed something BIG for it. Gave us some drama and tragedy simply because they can, not because it was necessary or logical.

I mean through entire TO show we’ve seen Klaus’ change. Finally finding his ways to get along with people. Mostly with his family but isn’t family is the only thing that matters really? Right? We’ve had 4 years watching him learning to accept his siblings for who they are and accept and respect their choices, learning to let go and learning to open up to them. Small steps, some mistakes but eventually I say he evolved lots. We’ve seen him being tearing apart with his daughter over and over when the only things he wanted is to be with her, see her growing up, make her proud and be proud for who she’d become. And of course to keep her safe. I remember I didn’t like the idea of Klaus having a baby when it only poped up in first ep. But it was definetely the best thing that happened to him because obviously Hope is that most important littlest wolf he was trying to be a better man for.

And then the last season basically erased it all. He met his daughter again 7 years later only to see her being hurt, losing her mum and eventually losing him too. No wonder the Necromancer told Hope her dad is still haven’t found peace and is still looking after her from the other side. How could he not?

That makes me wonder actually if when Hope jumped into Malivore did he forget her too? Imagine him being so lost on why is he even dead? Why does he has this enourmous deep dark hole in his heart now? What is it he misses and cannot remember so much? And how does he feel after Josie brought all the memories back?

Or maybe he hasn’t forgotten her and actually seen his girl being all lost, lonely, hurt again?

How did I end up taking about Klaus and Hope when I started it as a Klaroline and my broken heart for them? Well I love that man deeply and care so much and still haven’t accepted the finale of the originals show. Honestly just hoping he’ll one day magically comes back to life. I can’t stand the idea of him never having a chance to love and to be loved. To feel it all fully.

[tinywriter2018]

Take Your Time

Word Count: 845

Based off of the Necromancer Episode.  Because we all wanted this to happen and it didn’t….

It was the middle of the night at the Salvatore academy.  For once the week had been monster free with little to, to much drama except for the mid-term tests that were coming up.  A full moon was soon upon them, and parties were always put on hold until after the cycle ended.  The werewolves were a little jumpy and could feel the shift coming up soon.  Alaric was in his office when he heard the front door open.  Grabbing his crossbow, he walked slowly out to find two figures standing in the middle of the entrance way.  One he wished he never see again, and the other one he missed. Hayley Marshall grabbed Klaus Mickelson’s arm keeping him from running off.  

“Where are you going?”  She hissed at him. 

“To find our daughter.  Given our family history, shes probably in trouble which is why we are brought back here in the first place.”  

“Klaus look around! This is the Salvatore school.  The safest place she could be. You know Caroline’s school.”

“We will determine that after I find her.”  

“Hold up!”  Alaric pointed the arrow at the two dead hybrids.  

“Alaric?”  Hayley asked, stepping forward.  Klaus was beside him, in a split second, firing the arrow into the wall, before taking it from him.  

“Now since we are not here to play games, let’s have a chat shall we?”  Before he could say another word, he was flung across the room, pinned to the wall.  Two witches chanting loudly.  Hayley, ran behind them, knocking them apart.  Klaus fell to his feet, glaring at all involved.  Klaus went to the girls, but Hayley pushed his shoulder back.  

“Their just kids Klaus.”  

“Davina was just a kid too.”  

“Hold on! Lizzie, Josie, go back to your rooms now!”  Alaric yelled at his daughters. 

“This is that Necromancer's doing isn’t it?”  Lizze stood up, a fire ball appearing in her hand.  

“Oh my god.”  Josie whispered, looking at Hayley.  “Lizzie, that’s Hope’s-”  

“Mom?”  The fire ball in Lizzie’s hand disappeared in a puff of smoke, when Hope Mikaelson stood at the bottom of the stairs.  “Mom?”  She said again, tears coming down.  Hayley didn’t waste another second and ran to hug her daughter.  “Mom, what are you doing here? Whats going…”  Hope looked over her mom’s shoulder to see her dad.  The great evil of the world, walked over to her slowly, his own tears pricking his eyes.  With one final pause, she pulls her dad into a hug.  

“Hello, My littlest wolf.”  It was times like this, that Alaric thought he had seen everything, but was reminded that the Greatest Evil known to supernatural kind, had a soft side to him.  

“Dad...theres so much-”  

“I know.  But now is not the time.  Your mother is right, we need to know why we are here.”  Hayley wrapped her arms around her daughter once more.  

“I don’t care about that now.”  She whispered, kissing her daughters head.  

“I think I can answer that.”  Alaric stepped forward.  “A week or so ago, we dealt with a necromancer.  Well not, a necromancer, the Necromancer apparently.  People have been coming back from the dead.”  

“Then we can’t stay.”  Klaus quickly put two and two together.  “In our current state, if he wished to harm you through us, he would have no problems doing it.”  

“No..No...please I can’t-”  Hope cried out, but Klaus leaned down, wiping her tears away.  

“Don’t worry My Little Girl.  We are always here.”  Hayley shook her head, looking at Klaus.  

“Come little wolf, let me have a hug.”  Kissing her forehead one more time, she let her daughter go.  Klaus wrapped his daughter once more in his arms.  

“Are you at peace?”  She whispered, crying into his shoulder.  

“I am at peace, whenever you are at peace my Littlest wolf.”  Klaus held her at arms length, trying to keep his composure.  “You are the best thing I have I ever done.  You are a Mikaelson, you are my blood.  That means Always and forever.”  

“Always and forever.”  She smiled, holding onto her parents hands.  Josie and Lizzie came over, keeping hope in between. 

“I’m sorry, about flining you into the wall.”  Lizzie looked terrified up at him.  

“Well, you’re not the first witch.”  Klaus joked.  Hayley kissed her fingers, holding them out for Hope.  She recuperated holding onto her.  

“Always and forever.”  Hayley, smiled, wiping a tear away.  

“Come Little Wolf, Jackson is waiting.”  Rolling her eyes, she gave him a light push.  

“Please let me leave so I don’t have to deal with the great Klaus Mikaelson anymore.” She joked, earning a chuckle from him.

“Take your time love.  We will be waiting for you.” Klaus smiled at his daughter.  Holding Hayley’s hand, he grabbed Lizzie’s while she grabbed Josie’s.  Both only looking at their daughter, while the magic that brought them slowly faded away.  Hope let out a strangled cry, falling to the floor, with Josie and Lizzie right there to hold her while she cried from happiness and grief once more.  

Author’s Note: 

Since I actually watched season one of Legacies, I wanted to do a piece that was actually inspired directly from the show, instead of just clips I watched.  This was inspired by the Necromancer episode and a moment we all wanted.  I was playing off of the short visit by the fact that Klaus had dealings with the Necromancer in the past, so he knew what he was capable of.  I hope You liked this AU.  

Masterlist

[the-wotog-collection]

bree and the boys

- made up of ve, bree, trancey, chaym, and tar

- individual characters under the read more

VE 

-Ve. That’s it.

-Half-Aasimar Half-Tiefling Sorcerer (inherited the magic from his grandmother)

-He/Him, demisexual and grey-aro

-True Neutral

-One unholy abomination of a gentle giant

-Face? What face, all I see is a glowing magic eye floating right in front of where his face should be

-A beautiful demonstration on why Aasimar and Tieflings really, really shouldn’t have kids

-Grew up alone in a cave. Is still getting used to people, with Bree’s help

-He may look scary, but he’s a gentle lad who wants to settle down in a nice ocean town and have a big garden somewhere near his home

-Made friends with a little halfling girl, then proceeded to adopt every single tiefling they came across in their travels together

-Cares deeply for his little found family, and would do anything for them

-Relationships:

(Friends): Bree (littlest and bestest sister), Trancey, Tarvaii, Chaym (his brothers, who he cares for deeply)

(Family): Angelica and Viren (parents)

BREE

- full name is bree thorngage

- halfling cleric (worships mishakal), she/her

- oh my god. oh my god she’s such a sweetheart

- too good. too pure

- she cares so much about her found family

- back home, she was the oldest child, but with the boys she’s the babyest sister and acts like it

- i cannot stress enough how much of a sweetie she is

- she’s here to eat pastries and make friends and she’s all out of pastries

- she took one look at the monstrosity that is ve and went “he could probably use a friend”

- she looks out for all her brothers, healing them whenever they get hurt (even if it means she now has their wounds)

- she’s such a sweetheart oh my god

- relationships: ve (favorite brother); trancey, chaym, tar (brothers); ell (you haven’t met them yet) (in love)

TRANCEY

-Entrance “Trancey” Tofreke

-Tiefling Rogue/Necromancer

-He/Him, demisexual/gay

-Chaotic Neutral

-Didn’t mean to become a necromancer, really. Blame Chaym

-Technically undead- bleeds a pretty royal blue colour (it’s magic babey)

-Fastest way to his heart is just be a friend I guess? Please don’t try to force the lad to love

-Quiet and cold to strangers, and pretty anxious and jumpy when he opens up to people

-He may be a rogue but I would not trust him to keep knives without adult supervision

-His aesthetic is dark clothes with fur trim

-Northern boy, dressed for the cold and absolutely dying in the heat

-Someone help him, he’s a disaster

-Relationships:

(Romantic): Chaym

(Best Friend): Viren

(Friends): Bree (littlest sister), Ve and Tarvaii (his brothers), Eve (depending on the au)

CHAYM

-Chaym Noir

-Tiefling Necromancer

-He/Him, pan

-Chaotic Good

-He’s the brother that “married” into the family

-By far the most responsible out of the party, and often ends up being the sole voice of reason

-Technically undead and jokes about it a lot. Perks of being a necromancer bby

-He was originally a mentor figure to Trancey, but they got close and the poor boy fell in love. Chaym vowed not to start anything with Trancey, under the thought that it’d be weird if he were dating his student, but, years down the line, he broke that vow, after Trancey decided to take his studies into his own hands.

-Loyal as a dog and just as vicious when his loved ones are threatened

-Relationships:

(Romantic): Trancey, Eve

(FwB): Vik

(Friends): Viren, Tar, Ve, Tal, Warren, Bree

TAR 

-Tarvaii Meadows

-Tiefling Druid

-He/Him, probably bi probably

-True Neutral

-There’s not much to say abt Tar really

-Basically just a chill druid living life and travelling with his found family

-Relationships:

(Friends): Bree, Ve, Trancey, Chaym

(back to party list)

[ikeofeyes-art]

The school year was so crazy i didn’t have anytime to draw my children!

L to R : Asa, Amari, Tamir, Sargon