Welcome To Nug E Cheese

Chanting steadily grew louder and echoed off the wet cracking cement walls of the old abandoned building on the edge of the drowned district. 

Dark robed figures moved throughout the space, sprinkling finely grated blue crystalline dust over the ground, creating intricate runes and linear patterns on the floor. The lyrium powder was faintly glowing in the dim lighting of the room. Candles were lit and flickering softly, casting long ominous shadows against the walls. 

One older dwarf with a long braided beard handed out candles to some of the gathered dwarves, muttering quietly that tonight would be the night. 

Harding took the candle offered, allowing herself to go with the flow of the dwarves walking around the room, trying to find a spot where she could observe the proceedings, wondering again just how she managed to get herself into these situations. 

⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ 

She was still getting used to going on missions with the de Rivas. The Crows dealt in information almost more often than assassinations or moving weapons around illegally. Her scouting skills had found a second life; often setting up somewhere she could watch Zalan or the other de Rivas' movements. Directing them along rooftops or pulling up building schematics to find routes for them to take. Viago had resources she wouldn't have dreamed of when she was working for the military. Charter and Lelianna would have sold someone's right arm to have a fraction of his tech. 

She was settling into her spot on the roof of a shipping distribution center near the harbor. It was damp, a soft misting rain was starting and stopping and making the night miserable. Her dark clothes and tactical gear were starting to cling and get heavy and uncomfortable and wet. 

Zalan nudged her further under the tiny tin overhang they'd found supporting a couple fans, ignoring how drenched his own hair and outfit were. It was keeping some of the rain off her while keeping them in a spot they could see the crates being unloaded down below. Surveillance was their primary objective- watch the trade off and follow them to find out where they were taking their wares. The crates hadn't been on the manifest and the Carta dwarves had been responsible for smuggling them in. The Crows tended to keep an eye on the comings and going of the other gangs and criminal organizations in the region. Of which, Antiva City hosted many and they kept general peace as long as the others didn't overstep. The Crows ruled Antiva, as she heard Viago and Teia often say. 

But the Carta were handing over the crates, only two, to another group of dwarves. They watched them chat and exchange money and load their things into a normal looking moving van. 

"Ilene they're headed your way." Harding spoke quietly into her headset and heard a grunt in response before a huffed, 

"On it. Anything to get going out of this rain." The elf grumbled, the sound of her motorcycle the last noise before the sound cut out. 

Zalan frowned like he was thinking about saying something, the worry for his sister plain on his face, but just sighed instead, "Come on let's get down there and see if we can find anything." 

Harding smiled at his over protectiveness as he stood and gestured for her to follow him. They made their way down the side of the building but where she graciously didn't say anything. Instead she climbed down using bricks and small window sills as footholds, hopping down the last few feet. "What exactly do you think we'll find?" 

Zalan jumped the last bit too, landing in a crouch. "Anything leading back to the buyers, where it came from, maybe where it was headed. Or if we can figure out what was in the crates. Might help figure out what they're up to." 

He led the way to the building, both of them quiet. One lock pick was all it took to get inside and they stayed low, checking to make sure the Carta members had moved deeper into the facility before standing up. 

The room they were in had more crates from the ship sitting in the docks, but these were all labeled with correct numbers and descriptions from the manifest. Zalan pried one box open with a small crowbar and they both peeked inside- blacksmithing tools were safely packed inside, exactly as the label announced it. 

Harding frowned, "Huh, you know I expected something illegal." 

Zalan shut the box with a little bit of force to passably seal it back up, air whooshing out of it. "They were smuggling something else in, some of these crates have to be real." He wiped the sawdust from his hands and started for another crate when his legs buckled and he crumpled to the ground. Harding grabbed his shoulder before he could lurch forward and hit his head on anything and tried to look him over- no injury she could immediately see.

"What happened?" 

He shook his head trying to dispel whatever was affecting him, "I don't know I just suddenly feel… tired?" He lifted a hand to his head. "Do you feel okay?" He added looking up at her with unfocused eyes. 

Harding was trying to help him stand, he was unsteady but she managed to get his arm around her so she could drag him out of the building. "I feel fine. But there's something wrong with you." Setting him down outside she lifted his face to look at him. "Symptoms?" 

"Blurry, nauseous, headache." He rattled off, gently pushing her away, "Poisoned by something?"

"I'll radio Ilene hang tight." But there was no response when she called, only static. The worry in her gut spiking, but for the moment she stayed calm, they could find Ilene later, for now she needed to get Zalan somewhere. 

⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ 

"You said your hands were dusty? More so than usual? Did you breathe any in?" Sabriel was the brilliant doctor in charge at the de Riva building. She was checking his eyes, Harding watching as the doctor frowned. 

"There was a puff of dust but that's not important we need to go find Ilene." He glared at the doctor, obviously trying to hurry her up. 

Sabriel turned to Harding looking her over, "And you? Breathe any in?"

Harding shrugged, "Not as much but I'm sure some. It was unavoidable." But she wasn't suffering from whatever Zalan was.

Sabriel hummed thoughtfully. "I'll have to wait for the tests to come back but I think it's lyrium. That's why he's been affected and you haven't." She gestured back at Zalan, "Touching it or inhaling it can be dangerous. He's lucky his symptoms aren't worse. Dwarves have a natural resistance to it's effects, that's why it's a popular drug for the Carta to run." She explained, writing something on Zalan's chart. Harding's eyes slid back over to the Crow sat on the edge of the bed, frowning.

"So he's high?" She'd seen people on lyrium before, this seemed more like…. 

"Closer to poisoned, it wasn't refined yet if it was dust." Sabriel was opening drawers, getting out supplies. "I can treat him here easily enough."

"Then I can go?" Zalan looked like he wanted to get up and Harding shook her head, beating Sabriel to it. 

"Stay here, let her treat you. I'll go check in with Viago." She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before leaving with with Sabi. 

⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ 

It turned out Ilene had tracked the van to an old building with an ancient for sale sign still sticking up in the overgrown grass, over near the Drowned district before her signal went dark.

After some digging Viago found out it recently had been sold to a dwarf who's entire online presence was devoted to The Anvil of the Void- a very old, very secretive dwarf cult.

"We need to get eyes inside to see what's happening." Viago snapped.

Harding watched Viago study the screen displaying the house and the dwarf that bought the house before his gaze slid to her and she frowned. She wasn't a fan of the look in his eyes.

"It's a good thing we happen to have the scout with us today…." He crossed his arms and turned to face her, raising a brow. 

⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ 

And that's how Harding found herself sneaking into the old house with Zalan in the back of a van parked nearby. 

"Sabriel told you to stay at the de Riva building. You're still sick." Harding had grumbled as she'd gotten ready.

"I'm poisoned not dying. I needed to come, Ilene is in danger and you need support." Had come Zalan's retort. He'd brushed his fingers over her cheek before sticking a tiny earpiece along the back of her ear for her. "Stay safe." And off she'd gone. 

Several cultists laid out what looked like a stone set of armor that took Harding several moments to place. It was one of the golem statues that the ancient dwarven cities were famous for. Legend said that they were animated- powered by raw lyrium and did whatever their masters wanted. But they needed human sacrifices. 

Another set of cultists were dragging out a person, their unconcious frame leaving tracks in the basements dirt floor- Ilene.

Harding breathed out the words, "Found her." Knowing that Zalan would hear. Ilene was dragged to the lyrium circle, someone producing a knife. They were really going to sacrifice her for their crazy golem. 

"What do you need?" Zalan's voice was quiet but intense in her ear. 

"Cut the lights when I give the signal?" There were candles, but no windows, she had to bank on it being dark enough. 

The dwarf lifted the knife over their head, grabbing Ilene by the bun and lifting to expose her throat. 

Harding held her breath. 

They leaned down, knife gripped tightly. 

"Now." Harding hissed, rushing forward, shoving the small group of hooded dwarves to the ground and tossing her candle into the folds of another dwarf's robe. 

⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ 

Ilene held an ice pack to her head, sitting on the edge of one of Sabriel's beds in the infirmary. "I can't believe I missed it! Most of that place burned down while I was out." She was whining but that meant she was feeling better and Harding gave her a little pat, 

"The best part was because the lyrium dust was everywhere in that place the flames were blue." Zalan mused, standing in front of the bed. Harding wished Sabi would clear her already, the few bruises she'd gotten from the fight and from dragging Ilene out were superficial at most. Zalan reached out, sliding his hand into hers and when she looked up at him offered her a soft little smile and a whispered, "Thanks." He was a dope, but he really was her dope.

Gently booping some people who might be interested in reading (no pressure, and if you don’t this is just me saying drink some water) ::

@davrinsleftpectoral @chaosherald @serensama @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai @jenn2d2 @serialsforbellara @sandcastlekings @kogarashi-art @woundedsoul12

Ilene belongs to @kabsey

Ma's footsteps faded as she disappeared back into the farmhouse and Lace sighed, scooting closer to Zalan on the blanket they were sitting in front of the little fire pit on. The sun was sinking down into the mountains and the tree peepers were already getting loud. She leaned her head against Zalan's shoulder as he pulled his stick away from the fire- the marshmallow on its end puffed up perfectly. 

Perking up she reached for their s'mores supplies and set out the graham cracker and dark chocolate and waited for Zalan to slide the hot marshmallow on before adding the slice of ham and the sprinkle of cheddar. Closing her creation between the second graham cracker she crunched through it with a delighted hum. Zalan chuckled and set two marshmallows onto the stick this time. 

Ma was coming back out with steaming cups of hot apple cider just as Lace finished making the next batch of her s'mores. 

"Do you want one too Ma? I can make more." Lace extended one of her creations but her Ma got a slightly pinched look on her face. Paired with her fond smile made Lace's grin widen, already knowing the answer. 

"No Dear, I think I'll pass." She handed the cups out and Lace giggled but accepted her Ma's dislike for her more strange food combinations. 

Zalan took the second s'more, nodding after the first bite, obviously enjoying it and Lace almost wanted to turn to her Ma with a proud grin that somebody liked her food but she resisted. 

A mabari nose pressed against her arm and Contessa made a grumbling noise as she walked around Lace's feet to flop onto the ground in front of her. Finishing her s'more she gave the dog's ears a scratch.

"Do you make the cider yourself?" Zalan asked and Lace leaned back against his arm watching her Ma preen and explain all about how she used the apples they grew here on the farm for it. 

"I have the recipe back in the house, I can get you a copy and you and Lace can make it." She was so happy Harding didn't even protest or remind her Ma that they wouldn't have the same quality apples. 

Petting Contessa's head she found herself staring absently at her hand. There would be no tan line from the ring she didn't wear but sometimes she imagined a line there giving away the fact she was married. 

Zalan must have seen her because his hand slid over hers tracing the invisible line on her ring finger. Feeling a kiss be pressed against her hair she leaned into his touch. 

"Happy one month." He said it softly but it still made her move her head so fast she almost hit him. 

"Is it really?" 

He nodded, "To the day, though I personally might not count the first day or two since I was so hopped up on pain killer I don't remember them." He teased, making her flush pink in embarrassment. 

"Sorry you were bleeding out from a gunshot wound you jumped in front of." She grumbled, flipping her hand over to twine their fingers together. She was quiet for a moment as he rubbed his thumb over her skin. "Do you think we should tell my Ma?"

To his credit he didn't even stutter in his movement, instead looking thoughtful, "Only Viago knows right now. We can tell her if you want, how do you think she'll take it?" 

Lace laughed, "Oh she'll be madder than a mabari about it. She's always dreamed of walking me down the isle." Her laughter trailed off and she sighed, her Ma would be so disappointed- no planning, no ceremony, no dress, just some hastily signed papers in a hospital and Zalan barely even conscious enough after the surgery to hold a pen. 

"It's up to you, we're a team Lace Harding." He gave her hand a squeeze but she only snort-laughed, 

"If we tell her we'll need a team of de Riva's to search for your body."

Thank you @datvcompanionweeks for hosting these events!

Gently booping some people who might be interested in reading (no pressure, and if you don’t this is just me saying drink some water) ::

Hope taking root in my soul

Broken heart is healing, feeling free

Your compassion filling the holes

As I watch you sleep beneath the trees

A flower blooming in the night

Delicate, fragile, new

Willowy stem constricting, tight

In my chest, the beat only grew

Your light chases the shadows from my core

An empty void that drew you in

Could this turn into something more?

Or will my darkness within, bring us both to ruin?

---

@davrinsleftpectoral @woundedsoul12 @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @chaosherald @jenn2d2 @hedwigoprah @sorcerousadventurer @zennihilation @serialsforbellara @mushrooms-x-moss @jukkaricity @himluv @biowaredisasterbisexual @mageofquandrix @littlemissgeek8 @kogarashi-art @himluv @serensama @necromanticsoul @pixiedurango @maagisterpavus @angelsndragons @wolfmoonwildflowers @curiouswisp @picathartidae @rooks-dagger @notyourmamasdeerbat @thatgaymerguyb @handsignals @julie-spirit-finn @the-archons-moustache @dudewheresmynug @tevivinter @lycheecatee @viagosbrother @mikilavellan @redaresss @datvcompanionweeks

• ───────────────── •

Tags are always no pressure, check this fun thing out, with no expectation of response ❤️

@serensama, @woundedsoul12, @davrinsleftpectoral, @blackwall-my-tiny-husband, @serialsforbellara, @notyourmamasdeerbat, @strugglinggranola, @aetherflowers, @necromanticsoul, @jukkaricity, @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai, @elishnord, @pixiedurango, @aiyestel, @tkwritesdumbassassins, @sandcastlekings, @sorcerousadventurer, @the-font-bandit, @tarasmom, @talkmagically, @potatofantiger, @redheadsramblings, @viagosbrother, @chaosherald, @iicaru2, @handsignals, @wickedadaar, @kogarashi-art, @vishantikaffar, @mushrooms-x-moss, @nyx-de-riva, @redaresss, @trevisowillbefree

The forest going to Rook’s camp all looked the same. The same trees, the same rocks, the same Maker damn dirt on the ground, leaves crunching beneath her boots.

Sabine didn’t want to admit it, but with a heaving sigh that spooked a bird or two from their perches, she conceded that she was maybe, sort of, probably lost between the veritable sea of trees — her phone her only light source, but even that was failing her. Stuck at two percent, the damn thing was about to die, no signal to speak of in this part of the island — too far away from Pharos Cove proper — to call for help, and she’d be left to fend for herself by the moon’s light, hidden behind dark clouds.

Another sigh. She should have called Rook to pick her up at the tavern instead of venturing out this late by herself. She should have just stayed at the Gilded Sage and bemoaned Rook leaving her behind to whoever would listen, deep in a cup or two of Varric’s strongest beer.

But no. Instead she made a wrong turn somewhere, pretty sure she was closer to the mines’ entrance than Rook’s cozy camp. Shuddering at the thought of monsters from those very same mines, she chose a direction and picked up her pace, half in delusion that she was going the right way. Sure.

“Rook, where the fuck are you…” she muttered.

Snap.

The sound coming from behind made her jump out of her bones, swiveling quickly around, shining the light from her phone toward whatever it was.

Breathing a sigh of relief — it was only a deer, its wide doe-eyes staring straight at her, glowing from the reflection of her phone light. It stood stock still, breathing quickly as if Sabine had been the one to spook it. Just as she was about to shoo it away, it suddenly bolted in the opposite direction, making her jump again.

“Weird…” Then, in the next breath, her phone died, taking the light away with it. “Fuck,” she cursed beneath her breath, eyes trying to adjust to the sudden darkness that she didn’t notice the way the air around her seemed to stop, the leaves no longer swaying to the night breeze.

Something breathed heavily behind her, and she froze, its hot breath against her back, the outline of ferocious teeth against the fabric of her tank top, this close to her skin.

She turned — a terrible choice, she quickly found — and she was face to face with a monster from the nearby mines. Its hackles were raised at her, its strange, long tongue lolling out of from a brutish snout. Four paws tipped with sharp-looking claws dug into the ground, the monster, twice as big as a regular wolf, ready to pounce. Sabine’s mind went blank, fear racing up her spine, a sweat breaking out all over her skin as the thing assessed her with bright yellow eyes.

Should she run? Can she outrun this thing?

She didn’t have time to think, and like the deer, she bolted, the muscles in her legs screaming as they worked overtime. The monster gave chase, only half a breath behind her. If she hesitated, if she fell, it would be on her in a heartbeat. She couldn’t stop now — she could only keep running.

But Sabine, unable to see where she was going, ran quickly into a dead end, the side of a small cliff that she had no hope of climbing fast enough. She turned to the monster, her back pressed against cliffside, nails dug into the dirt.

She was going to fucking die here, wasn’t she? Sabine couldn’t breathe, her chest too tight with terror, and just as the monster advanced toward her, she closed her eyes, readying herself. She could see tomorrow’s headline on the Pharos Cove paper now: “Tavern Singer Found Dead, Mauled by Monster.”

Sabine just hoped the picture they’d put up of her was cute and not whatever her corpse was going to turn out to be by the end of this.

But as she heard it leap toward her, another sound came: the swish of a metal blade hitting skin and fur, the monster whining in pain.

“Get away from her!”

Sabine could recognize that voice anywhere — Rook!

But keeping her eyes tightly squeezed, the thick coil of fear in her chest began to unwind at the sounds of Rook fighting, her grunts and groans like music to her ears, until finally the monster fell to the ground with a thunderous clap.

Before she knew it, Rook’s shadow fell on her.

“Dollface…” Her voice was surprisingly soft, like she were approaching a scared animal. Perhaps that’s what Sabine was. It certainly felt like it. “You can open your eyes now.”

Easier said than done, Sabine finally pried her eyes open. Blue on blue, their eyes met, and Sabine, still feeling traces of fear, jumped into Rook’s arms.

“Oh, dollface, you’re shaking like a leaf!” Rook’s arms wrapped around her, strong and solid. “It’s alright now.”

Sabine could only breathe hard into Rook’s neck, Rook making soft noises of comfort.

After what felt like an eternity, Sabine extracted herself from Rook’s embrace. “Maker, fuck, Rook. I was so fucking scared.”

Rook snorted, picking up her blade, bringing out a cloth, and cleaning it down. “This is why you don’t go into the forest in the middle of the night!” She said it like Sabine was a dumbass.

And, yes, Sabine was a dumbass — tonight, and only tonight! — but she would admit that only to herself, her pride still intact despite the terrifying experience.

“Well—” Sabine crossed her arms, not looking at the dead monster right next to them. “—Maybe I wouldn’t be all by my lonesome if someone hadn’t left me at the tavern!”

Rook sputtered, giving her an incredulous look. “I told you I was working tonight, didn’t I?”

Sabine pouted. She did not remember that. But whatever — Rook on duty meant her life was saved, and she would oh-so graciously forgive her. Sabine was nice that way.

Instead of answering, she stepped toward Rook — and pressed her lips to the other woman’s cheek.

“Well, for what it’s worth — thank you, Rook.” She stepped away, and in the darkness, not noticing the way Rook’s cheeks flushed all the way up to her ears.

Clearing her throat, Rook finally took Sabine by the arm. “Let’s get outta here, dollface.”

Mission Report

Varric picked up a new recruit from Antiva. Already gave him a nickname and everything. He's picking up strays again if you ask me. It's an assassin which… Truthfully I don't think we need him. But Varric's already taken a liking to him and you know Varric, if he doesn't have someone to regale with stories he sulks. (He really just misses you and Hawke)

Named the assassin Rook. I tried to tell him he can't call a Crow a Rook, it's too obvious but he swears its not the bird. I'll send another update after meeting up with their contacts from Rivain.

-Scout Harding 

Mission Report

I'm sure Varric will mention it in his own letter but fine, fine! I'll admit it- having Rook around is useful. He has contacts in a good number of places and he's free with his knowledge and the stupid crow knows a lot. 

He's good at getting people to talk. Varric says he's the charming sort. I think he's full of hot air. But even I can't argue with results. 

We're meeting up with someone in Nevarra (one of Rook's contacts no less!) tomorrow to see some artifact Varric thinks needs looked into, report to follow.

-Scout Harding

Mission Update

We're still with one of the Dalish clans, both Varric and Zalan are still confined to their beds. The keeper knew clan Lavellan, lots of good people, he says he's sad to see so many of them gone. But he sends his regards….

It wasn't good, Lavellan. Both of them caught this disease the clan's been fighting to keep contained and they were really bad off for a little bit there. I… they wouldn't even let me see them. I felt helpless. 

Varric is almost free to go, he's as strong as a ram and as stubborn as a goat. But Zalan Rook has been slow to mend. He keeps mumbling phrases that mean nothing to us but sound like codes. He's asked for someone named Ilene and for Viago a few times. His fever finally broke last night so they're hoping he's on the mend. Varric says he's strong but…. I'd- 

we'd miss him if he died

we'd be losing a valuable teammate if he died. 

Update to follow.

-Lace Harding 

Inquisitor Lavellan.

I wish this could be anyone else telling you, it doesn't feel real. We found Solas but… things went wrong, all wrong. Varric is…

He's [tear stains blot out the next scratched out words making the ink bleed]

He didn't make it. Solas stabbed him during their fight and he didn't make it. Zalan is unconscious still. I tried to stitch his head wound the best I could, I-

I couldn't save Varric, I was right there next to Rook I should have- if I'd been faster

We're stuck somewhere, Neve says we're in the fade, we went through an Eluvian and it brought us here. I… I don't even know how to send this letter to you yet. But i needed to write it. Neve says to rest but I don't know what to do and I need to do something. 

Will send when able.

-Harding

Ma,

I keep telling you; it's fine, the fade isn't going to eat me or anything just because dwarves don't dream. And this place is pretty- once you get used to it. My garden here is gorgeous, and Zalan brought me another new plant yesterday that I think will go nicely next to the elfroot. 

I know you worry but we've been doing better, the team is pulling together and it's feeling more like a well sewn blanket every day. A patchwork blanket to be sure but a blanket none the less. I can't wait to make the whole team come to dinner, you really are going to love them all, they're really great. Zalan says if things calm down we might have time for a trip down south. As long as Morrigan can get the Eluvians there to connect to ours. 

Gotta go Ma! Manfred just got into the spices again.

-Love, Lace

Varric, 

I wish you were here. You would have laughed and teased me about falling for the Crow. After all my bluster about not needing him and how annoying I found him when we first started working together. 

Now I can't imagine not waking up to see him right there next to me. 

It's hard to admit, just how much he means to me. I haven't even really told my Ma yet. It feels like the wrong time to tell her- with the gods trying to end the world and all. But I think she knows something. 

Lavellan's already guessed, but she always has been able to read me. You both were so good at that. You probably wouldn't even be surprised that I've fallen for him, would have made fun of me for not seeing it earlier. 

The Inquisitor tells me to hold on to him. To tell him how I feel. I know she's thinking about Solas. She misses him. It makes me sad for her. 

Look at me I'm rambling. You always did have a way of making everyone talk even if they didn't want to. Part of your charm. 

…. i miss you.

-Affectionately, Lace Harding 

To whom it may concern (no Lace you're better than this, this is not some inquisition letter sent home to hundreds of people offering condolences for their fallen loved one.)

Dear House de Riva

Viago,

I regret to inform you I don't know how to say this because Zalan Rook always sent the corespondances to you, but we lost him

He's gone missing.

I think maybe Rook sent word we were headed to Tearstone? He- we- the plan was to stop the god's ritual. We only delayed it. At the cost of some of our own. And.. Rook. 

I haven't written yet because we've had no news and our team has been… 

Our fade expert thinks maybe Rook got pulled into the fade. We don't know how to get him out We aren't sure how to get to him, yet. But they seem optimistic. (Lace that's stupid he's a crow he doesn't want optimism he wants facts and assurances)

When we know more have better news I'll contact you again.

-inquisition scout Lace Harding 

(P.S. it might be a good idea to keep this between us for now. I don't think Ilene and the others this is something to let spread around right now. For morale? Sanity? your benefit) 

Dear Lavellan,

I'm not sure who to write this to, or even if you'll get it. I just… found myself needing to write to someone, anyone. I know you're still in the deeper fade with Solas and you haven't contacted anyone on the outside in some time but

Zalan's dead. 

We were on a mission and he

something happened

I lost him. There's going to be a small funeral. Lavellan I lost him, it just feels like history repeating itself over and over. I was too slow to save Varric, I was too slow to save Zalan. He was dead before I even got to him. I-

I didn't get to say goodbye. 

I don't know if you'll find this. Or if its possible but please. Please. If… if you and Solas see him. His spirit? Tell him I'm sorry. Tell him-

There's too much I wish I could say. Tell him to wait for me. 

If you want to contact me I'll be at the lighthouse for a few days until the funeral. Then in antiva for a week then… then I don't know where I'll go. But you always were good at finding people, I know you'll find me if you need me.

-Lace

Gently booping some people who might be interested in reading (no pressure and if you don’t just saying hi) ::

Siren Ayla's Playlist 🐚

^Siren Ayla's canon theme song, as far as I'm concerned 😂

I'm always inspired by music when I'm writing, but it was especially instrumental in this fic (considering Ayla is a siren and all). I've hyperlinked songs within the story itself in case folks wanted a #immersive experience lol, but you can also check out the playlist here. The songs are ordered just as they appear in the fic, along with a few extras in between. ✨

🍿 EXPLORE WHAT'S NEW ON NUGFLIX

@onelooseskull @serialsforbellara @davrinsleftpectoral @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @hedwigoprah @guacamolleee @introvertedfangrl @vishantikaffar @redaresss @sunny374940 @sorcerousadventurer @necromanticsoul @brightbreezeblog @casa-dei-corvei @lycheecatee @handsignals @wolfmoonwildflowers @notyourmamasdeerbat @sandcastlekings @curiouswisp @quaksi @trashwithvariety @trash-nerd @dudewheresmynug @rooks-dagger @grand-crow @tevivinters @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai @zennihilation @kogarashi-art @pinkvbay @chaosherald @xkatchy @reaver-of-kirkwall @in-the-drowning-deep @ass-deep-in-demons @bronzieinthedas @winterhartarts @viagosbrother @oddsaint22 @wickedadaar @lemondelighted @woundedsoul12 @tarasmom @veilguardingonmain @andthekitchensinkao3 @nyx-de-riva @2mercia2furious

But every so often, Illario’s gaze flicked back to Aydenne: a quick, besotted glance that warmed Aydé through to the core and left him sweating. Aydenne pretended he was fine.

The musicians shifted into a brighter rhythm, drums and flutes weaving together. Xiqaa, flushed with joy, grabbed Emmrich’s hands and pulled him toward the open space near the center of the courtyard.

“Come on!” they called, ribbons streaming from their hair. “Bellara taught me this one—a Dalish circle dance! Davrin said it kept the clan’s hearts in rhythm.”