#type: codex entry

[kakibot]

This post has a very narrow target audience, Lucanis romancers who chose the "I also love coffee!" option during the Treviso coffee date.

A big shoutout to everyone else who has baked the Nevarran Hazelnut Torte before me because they made me panic less when I reached the "why is this just a big ole lump" stage. 🖤

[mysterioustinyhorror]

Letter from Josephine in DATV if the Inquisitor romanced her.

I missed her so much 🫠

[purple-frost]

A letter found folded on the table in Rook’s room after Tearstone Island, its edges worn soft as if handled many times. There are faint smudges where ink has blurred, streaked by droplets of water.

Lucanis, If you're reading this, it means I never made it back from Tearstone Island. I need you to know—whatever happened, whatever kept me from returning—it is not your fault. Please, please, don’t blame yourself for my absence. Promise me that you won’t lock yourself away behind walls of grief and regret. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Lucanis, and I think you might already know. Maybe you’ve always known... I love you. I love you so, so much. I’ve loved you since the moment we found you in the Ossuary. I’ve loved wandering the streets of Treviso with you, the late-night coffee, the quiet moments, the shared laughter, everything. I’ve cherished every single second we spent together. Not one of them was wasted. Not one of them do I regret. If I have any regrets, it’s only that I didn’t find the courage to tell you this face to face. But I couldn’t leave without ensuring you knew. I love you, Lucanis. I always have. I always will. No matter what. - Kay

[the-raven-and-the-tower]

Letter from Illario

Cousin. Not his name. Illario does that a lot and I think there’s a reason for that. Impersonal yet intimate, at an arm’s distance yet with that arm is still reaching for him, Illario is asserting the familial connection and drawing on Lucanis's family loyalty as something he knows he can rely on to control him with.

Illario jumps straight to implying unreliability; he deliberately points to Lucanis's fractured control of Spite before rudely wafting a hand at Lucanis's memory, implying that might be flawed as well.

Having tied himself to Lucanis's trauma from his capture and their supposed shared loss of Caterina in the previous paragraph, Illario isn't content with that and decides to drive the point further home in this one like the guilty fuck he is. He appeals to their shared history, using nostalgia and a shared memory to make Lucanis feel like shit. "You had more control drunk than you do over that demon, you aren’t yourself anymore" is the message he's trying to drive home (with a side of "stay the fuck away"). I guess we know Lucanis wasn't kidding when he said Illario was a slick talker.

Sorry, but for the sake of the family is such a dirty kick in the teeth. Who's left? It was the three of them and Caterina's supposed to be dead, so who the fuck is he talking about? House Dellamorte has Crows to its name, but they don’t bear the house name, nor are they family. Yet Illario invokes 'family' to make it personal.

[coles-hat]

Letter from Cullen to a romanced Inquisitor in Dragon Age: The Veilguard

[missriggie]

DreadRook Week 2025

Day 6: The Ending

//"No real god need prove himself. Anyone who tries is mad or lying."

@thelighthouse-server

Folded under cushions of the chaise in the Meditation Room in the Lighthouse, is a rather heartfelt page of a journal.

When all is said and done, Rook sympathised with the Dread Wolf and all his mistakes, working damn hard to grant him the opportunity to see the error of his ways, and bids him a safe journey through to his eventual redemption.

Elven Translation: 'Safe Journeys, Dread Wolf, May you find your way to freedom.'

[cryptbabyrook]

Book club : )

[ofcrowsanddragons]

Growing Demons

Both the idea that Zara was growing demons from scratch and that she was "growing" demons from existing spirits in the Fade are so fun. I don't think either of them are contradicted by this, but...

My thinking is that Zara started with something similar to the Seeker ritual, capturing a spirit that was similar enough to mesh with the host and then forcing the host to eat it ("like a parasite in uncooked meat").

Zara was confident enough in her process that she believed she could force the spirit to become a "demon" of a specific type, which would suffer enough that it would force its way from its host (like the host was "a cacoon for a moth").

Something about that emergence would bind the demon to Zara, which gave Lucanis plenty of ammunition for a deal... as long as that spirit was a kind of spirit that could hold out with him against the torture they were putting them through.

It makes you wonder what might have happened to Compassion, in that gods-awful place. And if Spite saw what Compassion could turn into.

[vhenad4hl]

CODEX ENTRY: THE HERO OF FERELDEN - DINAYA TABRIS

The Hero of Ferelden grew up in Denerim's impoverished elven alienage. A bitter clash with a Denerim noble during her wedding resulted in her facing arrest by the city guards. The Grey Warden Commander Duncan recruited Dinaya, saving her from a certain death sentence.

Rumors sprouted of her having entered into a romantic relationship with a former Chantry sister and Orlesian bard during the Fifth Blight, though these rumors remain unconfirmed.

After defeating the Archdemon and ending the Fifth Blight, Dinaya took up the mantle of Warden - Commander of Ferelden. She began the task of rebuilding the order in Ferelden until her disappearance several years later.

Inquisition agents later uncovered that she had left to travel west in search for a cure to the Calling.

art by @sinizade

[ Alethea ]

[bitchesofostwick]

codex: notes from the inquisition

i'm rewriting that letter (THAT one; minor veilguard spoilers for those who haven't gotten there) not because i didn't like it (i loved it) but because i can and because i wanted ellinor to be able to respond. tag list: @elfroot-and-laurels @captastra @mournholdmushroom @vvakarians @galaxywhale @creaking-skull

My love,

It seems one of the pups got to my half-written work before I could, or before Tara could, for that matter. She’s a good mum and usually keeps a close eye on all of them, but if it takes a village to raise a child, I’d dare to say it takes two villages to raise a litter of mabari.

I’ve wrapped up all I could at Skyhold. Our quarters here felt strange enough to return to after all of these years. They feel stranger still without you here beside me. But I leave the fortress behind in good hands, and although I’m surprised at how many Inquisition veterans so quickly answered our calls for aid, I am eternally grateful. I make for Minrathous tomorrow morning, though I loathe to imagine how I’ll fare at sea again for the first time since returning to Ferelden from Kirkwall. I know what you’d say—take the longer route through Orlais. But first, we both know that’s counterintuitive to the urgency at hand, and second, I’d rather let Dorian win a score of chess games against me before I spend a minute longer in Orlais than I have to, for anything.

Speaking of Dorian, he told me in his most recent correspondence that you’d already tried to adopt about ten cats from the streets of Minrathous. Darling, we both know Cat isn’t fond of competition, we’ve got a full house as it is with the new pups. How do we plan to feed these cats? To house them? To transport them back to Ferelden? Please consider…reconsidering.

I digress. Ellinor, I know you are more than capable—of anything, of everything and more that I could never dream of doing myself. You are the strongest person I know. Still, it goes without saying that I worry for you. I fear for your safety—it’s kept me awake, tossing and turning, every night since you left my side. All these years, and I’ve never been able to stop worrying. If I could be there now, be your sword and your shield and your advisor all over again, I’d do it in a heartbeat. In a single breath. All this is to say please stay safe and be careful, and I will be there as soon as my feet can carry me.

All of my love, yours, eternally, Cullen

~~~

Darling,

You’re right about the urgency we’re dealing with. I don’t even have to say this, because you’ve seen it firsthand as well as I have. But in better times, I certainly would suggest you take the longer route to get here. I know you despise Orlais. Believe me when I say you’re going to despise Tevinter as well. In fact, when I told our friends you were on your way, Harding took on an especially sympathetic expression, and Dorian merely cackled in my face. There’s magic abound here, love. And I know you’ve gotten more used to it, and I know you cope better now than you used to, but I still need you to know. It’s not like the south. It’s unchecked and it’s everywhere, and I just want you to be prepared.

Maevaris is looking forward to meeting you—Dorian’s all but sung your praises to her—and so is Rook, though she reminds me at times of Hawke and I imagine your personalities may clash a bit, were the situation at hand not so dire. Morrigan is here as well. I can just about see your eyes rolling as you read this. So get it out of the way now, before you arrive.

As soon as your feet can carry you? Poor Lady. She’s quite spry for a mare her age, and it’d wound her to know you discredit her efforts this way. I promise not to tell her you said that.

I’m sorry—it’s not fair for me to joke. I know you mean every word that you say. In truth, it hurts my heart to see you worry this way, especially after all the pains we’ve gone through to build a quiet life for ourselves after the Inquisition. I wish it were not so. I wish this wasn’t happening. I wish we were at home again, picnicking in the fields with no bigger concern than what fruits we want from the market the next day, or which friends we want to visit with next. I hate that I have to be here. I hate that I’m without you. Worst of all, I hate that you have to travel to Tevinter of all places just to be with me again. If it were in my power, I’d have made sure you never set foot in the city of Minrathous, because I know you’re going to hate it here.

Dorian saw me write that. He said you need to grow a thicker skin.

Anyway. I’m being careful. I promise. I will see you soon, my love.

Yours, Ellinor

P.S. I did not adopt ten cats. Dorian made me put one back because apparently it belonged to the fruit merchant, and I was “stealing.”

[a-gay-bloodmage]

A Qun of Two: Chapter One

Art by the beloved @caedharlowe

(The Iron Bull & Ozol Adaar)

Ozol Adaar learned, many years ago, as he ran through the jungle arm in arm with his saarebas, that leaving the Qunari behind doesn’t make one a savage. Nor does it mean abandoning the poetry of the Qun. Now, with the dreadnaught left to wash up on a rocky shoreline, he resolves to teach the Iron Bull the same lesson.

On the First Day, We Name Ourselves

Long ago, the Ashkaari lived in a great city by the sea. Wealth and prosperity shone upon the city like sunlight, and still its people grumbled in discontent. The Ashkaari walked the streets of his home and saw that all around him were the signs of genius: triumphs of architecture, artistic masterpieces, the palaces of wealthy merchants, libraries, and concert halls. But he also saw signs of misery: the poor, sick, lost, frightened, and the hopeless. And the Ashkaari asked himself, “How can one people be both wise and ignorant, great and ruined, triumphant and despairing?”

—An excerpt from The Qun, Canto 1

Read on Archive of Our Own Here!

Report from Lieutenant Cremisius Aclassi

To the slackers pissing away time in the Hinterlands: 

Long time no see, boys. Maker willing, this letter finds you faster than you find the end to your assignment. Got some updates for you. 

The Chief isn’t Qunari anymore. Not in the sense that he shaved his horns and started wearing a shirt, but in the sense that he’s “tal-vashoth.” You know, same kind as the ones he was fighting up in Seheron. Ones he said were all insane and savage and what have you. Turns out that was all Bull-shit. Or, at least, seems to be so far. Maybe the madness’ll start to kick in next Tuesday. He hasn’t put out the formal announcement yet, but it’s not hard to tell with the way the Qunari agent, Gatt, disappeared by the time we made it back to the Chief. He should’ve been there. 

The Herald’s a tal-vashoth, too. I know you haven’t met him yet, but he’s good. So good that he hurts to look at, sometimes. You know those Chantry brothers that can just look at you and make you want to vomit up every stupid thing you’ve ever done or said? That. That’s what he’s like. And the big, grey bastard would probably hold your hair and pat your back while you were hunched over the bucket. If that’s what a tal-vashoth is actually like, I’m not worried about the Chief. He’s in good hands. And some really big ones at that, ones actually fit to hold his fat ass. 

Probably important to mention what happened. We were on track to secure an alliance with the Qunari—the proper Qunari, not the Herald, the ones who’d spear me without thinking as soon as they realized I was a Vint—and the position we were holding was royally fucked. More Venatori than we thought were making their way up the beach, and if we kept trying to hold them off, keep them from attacking that stupidly large Qunari warship, we’d be dead if the Chief didn’t run in and save us. But the Chargers aren’t cowards. Void take me, I’d rather die than run. Not doing that again. Maker knows that there wouldn’t be another Chief to swoop in and save me the next time I ran. 

And then that damn horn sounded. Cut right through the storm like some- Damn it, I’ve been spending too much time around the Herald, trying to talk all poetic. He’s a loon about poetry, by the way. Not sure if I’ve mentioned that yet. Shit, now that I’m writing, I’m wondering if maybe the Venatori got in a knock or two. Rattled my brain around something so fierce that I can’t even remember the blow. 

As it goes: Chief is tal-vashoth. Herald’s been tal-vashoth. I think we nearly died. Writing this in the tent while the Chief and the Herald sit in the rain. I don’t know what they’re talking about. Rocky is snoring and the rain is hitting the tent and the candle is low and they’re not even talking anymore. They’re just quiet and that’s the worst part. The Chief should be joking and telling everyone to quit worrying but he’s not. Not really. He was laughing and joking and being the Chief the whole walk to this shit camp, but there was something off. Chief, if you’re reading this, if you’re still a snitch and a snoop even after you’re tal-vashoth, fuck the rest of them. All the Qunari. If one sunk ship’s enough to disown you, they don’t know how much you’re really worth. At least five, I’d say. Maybe more. 

Chief’s a free agent now. Still our Chief. Hoping that the Herald being grey’s a good sign. It’s still fucking raining. 

Horns pointing up. 

- Krem

[dragonagecinema]

An update on Sten in Dragon Age The Veilguard 💔 Every subsequent game, I hoped to see him again, but it never happened 😔 What do you think of his fate?

[warpedlegacywrites]

Headcanon Codex Entries - Varric Tethras

An unsent, partially-written letter, found in between the stabbed pages of a copy of Tales of the Champion:

Hey, Seeker Cass. You've probably already heard from Harding, but I figured duplicated efforts couldn't hurt in this case. We've tracked Solas as far as Minrathous. You'd hate it here, which is a shame because it actually lives up to all of Sparkler's hype. The whole city lights up at night with magic. I'm writing this by rune-light in our rented room. I can picture your sneer of distaste as you read that last line. And now I can hear your annoyed grunt reading that line. Good old predictable Pentaghast. But I'm not writing this to annoy you. Okay, I'm not writing this just to annoy you. You know I'm no good at these kinds of letters. I've been thinking about us I've always hated how things ended between us. I know--my fault. Sorry to bury the lead. But I promise this isn't just another apology. What could I even say at this point that I haven't already? What have you ever said that I haven't deserved? I don't really know why I'm writing this. I probably won't even send it. Just wanted to get it down on paper, I guess. To tell you that I don't regret it. What we had was good. While it lasted. For whatever that's worth. I guess I just needed to tell you that. No regrets.

[mrsdellamorte]

I’ve been doing the codex prompt challenge in our discord so I thought I’d post some here! I didn’t go in order, I’ve just been picking out ones i really wanted to do!

I’ve been writing about my Rook, Thea Mercar, as if she was a companion to recruit! ✨

Codex Prompt #13: A message between companions about Rook

Neve’s Case Notes: The Enchanter from Nevarra

Varric said we needed more “power” in our search for Solas, and I agree. Mentioned an old friend, Enchanter Althea Mercar. Too bad we didn’t find her before the ritual. I was skeptical at first but, seems this enchanter isn’t what I thought she’d be:

- A Senior Enchanter of the Cumberland Circle with close ties to the College of Magi.

- A successful enchanter. Not one of her students failed their Harrowing.

- Spent time teaching and training mages for the Inquisition-must be how Varric knew her.

- A former Shadow Dragon- This surprised me. Never heard of her, but turns out she was using Rook as her alias. ‘Rook’s’ story is well known among the Shadows, her work speaks for itself. Ashur didn’t have much to add when I asked. Strange.

Her last paper was published in 9:48, around the same time The Shadow Dragons dismissed her. Seems the lead goes cold there. I’ll keep looking. Odds are if she’s hiding, she doesn’t want to be found.

A note in Harding’s handwriting:

Varric’s right, Thea is just who we need. With her fire power and magical expertise, we’d be unstoppable. Lucky for us, I know exactly where to look. Ever heard of Calla Lily Vineyards? It’s in Southern Antiva, owned by The Mercar’s. I haven’t seen her in years, it’ll be nice to see an old friend. We can head to the vineyard before meeting with The Crows, kill two birds with one stone you know?

Scribbled at the bottom:

No pun intended!

[the-raven-and-the-tower]

Another Codex entry. Need I say more?

[talonrook]

Summary: After discovering the destruction left in the gods' wake at D'meta's Crossing, Lleyth collects their thoughts and ponders the team's next steps.

Warnings: Descriptions of canon-typical body horror.

codex series / part one / [part two] / part three

Right. Things have gone from bad to worse. Why would I expect any different?

The big mirror downstairs— the Eluvian (Solas called it the Vir'Revas, the "freedom of ways") took us back to Arlathan. I'm not sure I'm entirely cut out for the whole inter-dimensional travel thing, it makes my skull itch and my stomach feel weird, but I suppose it's leagues better than travel by boat, so I can't really complain. We ran into some of Varric's and Harding's old acquaintances on the other side: The Veil Jumpers.

I'm not familiar with them personally, but one of them, Bellara, has come back to the Lighthouse with us.

Good. Neve is brilliant, but Lace and I are all but useless when it comes to magic, and we need an expert on ancient elven magic in particular, which she is. And she explains things! Which I appreciate.

I won't presume to know the specifics of any complex magical theory. I'm no mage, but I'm also not a complete dunce, and mages aren't the only ones capable of using and studying magic. There are some things I've familiarized myself with in my alchemical training over the years; How to properly utilize runes and other magical essences to synthesize powerful spells. Still, it helps to have someone explain how things work and what they do instead of just asking me to "just trust them" or insist they "know what they're doing" for once. (Maybe you know what you're doing, but I don't! That's why I'm anxious!) And as limited as my understanding of ancient elven artifacts that predate my life by at least a thousand years may be, I find myself curious nonetheless, and Bellara has been very receptive to my questions.

She will be an excellent addition to the team… assuming we don't all get ourselves killed.

One thing is certain; The echoes of Solas's ritual have left ripples throughout Arlathan, and likely most of northern Thedas. These ripples have completely fucked up the forest in ways I can't even begin to wrap my head around, and from the sound of it, the Jumpers can't make heads or tails of it either. What we do know is that the entire region is magically unstable and, at times, completely nonsensical. Pockets in the Fade appearing out of nowhere and swallowing people whole, ancient artifacts going haywire, experienced Veil Jumpers going missing— presumed dead, or worse.

More innocent blood on my hands. A lot of that going around these days. But dare I ask, what was the alternative? Let Solas carry out his insane plan to sunder the Veil, destroying the world as we know it? The death toll alone would have been catastrophic. I knew what the stakes were, should he be allowed to succeed. We all did.

But sangre del Hacedor— after what happened to D'meta's Crossing… I am yet to tell whether I've helped save this world or simply doomed it to a fate worse than I've yet to fully comprehend.

The Blight in south never reached Antiva, and I was too young to fully understand it at the time, but you hear things; The words of refugees and ship captains who ran trade routes through Amaranthine. Enough to sate the vivid imagination of a fledgling Crow who had only ever heard stories of darkspawn armies marching from the Deep Roads to the wingbeats of an Archdemon.

Never in my life had I thought it would be anything like this.

The stench of darkspawn struggles to leave my mind. There's a reason why they should stay in the fucking Deep Roads where they belong. I've encountered their ilk before, but only stragglers. Nasty fucking things. They die like anything else in this world, but nothing prepares you for the ferocity— and the wrongness of them. (Why anyone would willingly join the Grey Wardens to hunt such creatures is beyond me.)

But this? A whole village gone overnight in complete silence, consumed by the Blight? No, worse than Blight. This particular Blight is wrong. I'm almost at a loss for words to describe it.

It's vile; It pulsates and writhes like it's alive, and it beckons— dark whispers tugging at my ears like madness. It hungers. Corpses twisted up in its roots like it had consumed them while they were still alive, feeding off of blood and bone marrow seeping into the earth. Others were left to rot with limbs mangled and skulls crushed against the doors of their homes, thinking the thin sheet of wood could protect them from the Blight. Poor bastards.

I can feel its malice, even now. Like hate and hunger that seeks only to destroy and corrupt everything in its path. It's like it warps the very Veil surrounding it, tearing it with its teeth. I don't know if the others can feel it as I do. I don't know if I want to know the answer.

It's a nightmare, is what it is— only I haven't woken up yet.

The only survivors we could find were blighted out of their minds, enslaved. Too far gone. If this is just a small taste of what the gods are capable of, how can we fight against it? How do we stop them before they do it again, and at a larger scale? How long do we have to plan countermeasures until an entire city is razed by this living nightmare?

The nightmare I helped release.

Some good news; We were able to recover the dagger Solas used in his ritual. One less weapon of mass destruction in the gods' arsenal. But Lace grabbed it before I could, and it changed something within her. And… I guess she has magic, now? Making her the first dwarf in history to wield magic, probably ever? I'm almost as baffled as she is, but she's taking it in stride. Of course she is. She's Lace-fucking-Harding. I'm afraid I'm of little use in this matter, but I'll do my best to help with what I can with what limited resources I can find. Whatever it is she's going through, she's not going through it alone.

Still, I've taken possession of the dagger for now— we don't yet know what it's capable of. I do know that it's made of raw lyrium, and that I've watched it hurt Varric and do… something to Lace, and rip open the Veil. And the gods were looking for it. That means it's dangerous. If anyone is going to carry the risk of exposure to its elements, whatever they may be, it should be me, and I'll sleep better for it— knowing where it is.

Up close, it's an odd thing. My fingers buzz as they brush the hilt. I can feel the energy resonating. I'd almost say it tickles, if the sensation weren't so unpleasant.

Another thing— my headache has gotten worse. Lucky me. I can't tell if it started throbbing before or after we got the dagger. So much has happened in the past few days that the tiny details seem to blur together. It's not constant, at least. It comes and it goes. At times I feel like my skull is about to implode, and at others it's more of a dull ache. Negligible, but annoying.

It's possible that my blood being anchored to the magic used at the ritual could be causing me to have some kind of reaction to the dagger. Maybe it's a stretch, but it's a running theory of mine. Everyone has enough to worry about without me moaning in their ears about my head hurting, so I haven't told the others.

It's been a long couple of days. Hopefully it will clear up with proper rest. I'll worry about it later.

I spoke to Solas again. Fen'Harel. The Dread Wolf. Whatever. Culero. (He doesn't look very "wolfy" to me, I'll say that much.) As per our last meeting, I found his "advice" to be trifling and his demeanor grating. My desire to skip stones across his inflated head aside, we need his help— but to what end, I wonder? For now, we are joined in a mutual goal: Stop Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan. A coalition born of necessity, nothing more. I don't trust him.

Varric trusted him, and look where that got him. I won't make the same mistake.

Varric is… well, he's awake and he's talking, at least, though he still needs plenty of rest. It's too soon for him to be back on his feet, yet I feel bad leaving him alone in the Lighthouse. What happens to him if we don't make it back? I've done what I can to keep him comfortable, but without my alchemy kit…

Though, I may soon have the chance to reclaim it, because Neve thinks we should go to the Crows for help. Of all the fucking… [scribbled out, illegible]

That's going to go over like an iron-fucking-balloon. My heart aches to see Treviso again, but not like this! Not limping back home after a botched contract and explaining to the Talons that I might have started another Blight. The Blight to end all Blights…

So much for setting things right. This contract was supposed to be my ticket back into the Crow's good graces, but it might as well have been my death warrant. Can anything be easy? Must everything we do require me to bend over a table and fuck myself sideways?

Don't get me wrong, Neve has the right idea about getting a specialist on taking down powerful mages for the team, but the Demon of Vyrantium? House Dellamorte? Shit. My own… experiences with Dellamortes aside, I'm like, 90% sure the poor bastard's dead. Venatori caught up with him, if I remember correctly. I should know, Viago dragged me to his wake. I never knew him personally, of course, but Crow politics are delicate. When the First Talon's grandson is declared K.I.A., you make appearances— shake hands, offer condolences, and don't drink the wine. Maker, I hate funerals.

So unless the Crows have taken up necromancy to frighten the Antaam while I've been gone (Funeral a hoax? Wouldn't put it past the Talons to arrange something like that to confuse our enemies), arranging a meeting with the Talons is probably going to give us more problems than answers.

But… we're short on allies. If there's a chance, however small, that the Crows suddenly give two fucks to rub together about the fate of Antiva and what happens outside our borders, we have to take it. Begrudgingly. And preferably with as much tequila as we can carry back here for later— I'm going to need it.

Neve wore me down. I'll send word to Teia. The only Talon that I'm mostly sure doesn't hate me still. Though I haven't exactly been… timely about responding to any of her letters. Or responding at all, for that matter. (It wasn't personal, it's just… difficult to hear about home, sometimes.) So that might have changed.

I'm sure she will be first in line to rip me a new one regardless.

For now, we have other leads to follow— Neve wants to introduce me to some of her friends in Minrathous. I say we start there, make sure the city is still holding together somewhat after the ritual, continue assessing the damage. Maybe I'll get lucky and we'll find someone there and we won't need the help of the Crows after all!

Other things to consider: We're going to have to make a run for supplies soon. We need food, water, and something to sleep on besides the cots in the infirmary. The room I'm currently in has an ugly sofa, which I guess is an upgrade, but it's no proper bed. This room gives me the creeps anyway. Who the fuck wants to sleep in front of a massive glowing aquarium? With all of those giant creepy Fade-fish staring back at you? How is this relaxing?

NO! I draw the line. Hopefully there are other rooms in this place that have yet to make themselves known to me, because I'm not getting any sleep like this.

What I wouldn't give to be back home getting a massage and my hair washed in a bathhouse in Antiva City right now. The one with the lavender salt soaks with bergamot oil and rose petals, complimentary mulled wine and ripened cheese with bresaola and orange fig spread...

Ugh! The thought of it is enough to bring tears to my eyes! I must dwell on this no longer.

Varric thinks the team needs me. I think maybe he hit his head harder than we thought. I know he wanted me as his second in command, but this? Leading everyone against these odds? There's a reason why I was better in the Crows as a solo act— it's easier to make the decisions when I'm only responsible for my own life.

Whatever it was that Varric saw— sees in me, I can only hope I live up to it somehow.

Bellara's working on getting the Vir'Revas to connect to other Eluvians so we can plan our next move. I'm going to stay up for a while, I think. Keep watch while the others rest. I wouldn't mind exploring more of the Lighthouse, anyway. This room with the creepy fish wasn't here before. What other rooms could this place hold that we haven't discovered yet, or more likely, haven't yet made themselves known to us?

(Note: If this journal ends here, it's safe to assume I've misstepped and fallen into the void. It's going to take a while to get used to the whole floating-in-the-Fade bit.)

— R.