i want to give her everything she needs

hey, i'm burr! this is my veilguard sideblog, my main is @burr-ell (which is mostly critical role). i like to yap and on rare occasions make art; i've played veilguard ten times and done all the factions at least once, and i'm a grey warden truther. i love the story, i love the companions, i love the score, i love the art direction, and i would commit untold acts of violence for manfred the skeleton. (except against taash, who can do whatever they want.)

the most relevant things i'm going to be talking about:

emmrich and strife. the old man yaoi grabbed me by the throat and told me to lock in during their .03 seconds of screentime and here i am. i have many thoughts about their relationship and several WIPs, both fic and art. it's becoming a problem (it's not)

neve and lucanis. neve is such a rich and interesting character and her relationship with lucanis adds perfect texture to both of them; they are the only two characters i haven't romanced. gooseberry pie all the way down baby

general thoughts on how veilguard is a good game and you should play it and love it. multiple companion banters and scenes live rent free in my head. i am stanning NPCs simply for catching flak from the fandom. idc who you are, you don't appreciate strife dragonage enough. the first warden is my problematic fave.

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They make their way to the end of the hall and up the stairs, and Strife's quarters are immediately to their right. It's simply not possible to have a room as filled with paraphernalia as Emmrich's, but it's not sparse, either; his paramour had been very impressed, Strife recalls, at the modest selection of books. ("Expertly curated! Might I borrow this volume on local flora?") While he'd expected some level of interest in the relics and Dalish decor, he hadn't quite expected such delighted laughter at the sight of his wall-mounted knives. ("I'll have to inform Lucanis. His ideas were inspired.") There are a couple of new blades now, one with a distinctly oblong deep purple hilt that Strife had known without asking came from one of the finest blacksmiths in Antiva. ("Just don't commission them too often. It takes the fun out of it if you can just get one any time." "Oh, of course—that other one came straight off an Antaam warlord." "And people say romance is dead.")

Strife leads them over to the camp bed in the corner and sits them down. "You look exhausted, Em."

"I am," he admits, slumping over almost as soon as he hits the bed. "I've been avoiding some long, dark nights of the soul."

"Alright." Strife shifts so his back is against the wall and hauls Emmrich up, against his chest and between his legs. Emmrich sinks into the hold immediately, tipping his head onto Strife's shoulder. "Talk to me."

A pause. "Darling, you're as spent as I am."

"I am," Strife agrees. "We can talk about that, too. Your problems are important to me, Em." He kisses the top of Emmrich's head, noting with a small sense of satisfaction how the worried crease in his brow relaxes ever so slightly. "And I notice you're not leaving."