The Maker smiles sadly on his Grey Wardens, so the Chantry says, as no sacrifice is greater than theirs.
city elf who got locked away in a mages tower from ages 12 - 18 and escaped by joining an order of tainted warriors cursed to die before they hit 40. mostly handling that by: not thinking about it!
uses humor to approach most situations. even situations that should not be approached via humor. she's totally not using it as a cover for anything
big on wrestling, cheese, and throwing lightning at her enemies. less big on things like reading and sitting still. don't trust her around a stove
intern who accidentally became important at work because she has too much love in her heart
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Routine, routine was what she needed. Routine and familiarity to stave off the urge to scale that damn observatory wall and shake that mage by his ankles. And what better routine to fall back into than the good old rising just before dawn and just, walking. Eolas ended up making the almost 3 hour trek to Glacier's Peak on foot just to find herself on Rook's stoop.
Well, they're the one that gave the commander a key...
The elf made a beeline for the kitchen, and stood with her hands on her hips for several minutes trying to figure out how to light the stove. Why was Rook keeping rocks where wood should go ? ...Actually no, that sounds like something Rook would do. From what she knows about the younger warden, it seemed totally within character for her to resource hoard... Hell, Eolas had the same habit. Well, there goes the breakfast idea.
Idea two! The commander didn't bother to knock on the bedroom door, or even really announce her presence at all. She just walked in and flicked the light on.
" The sun is already in the sky, Da'len. You are 'burning daylight' as they say. "
New Yesteryear is not entirely without its benefits. Sleeping in is definitely one of them. Rook has never been an early riser, except for being forced into the habit over years and years of duty with the Wardens - and even before then, at the Circle, though at least there she had never been thrown bodily out of bed with military efficiency when she chose to ignore the call of dawn.
Rook is dead to the world. The Dread Wolf himself could not persuade her to get out from under the covers, and believe her he has tried once or twice in the past. It is cold outside and the sun is barely up and her bed is comfortable and she is going to remain unconscious for an additional eight hours if it kills her, because the last eight just wasn't enough. Intruder? Ignored. The flinging on of the lights will not sway her, even if it does briefly wake her, and one eye cracks open to assess the situation and place it accordingly on a scale of holy shit darkspawn invasion to... well, anything less than that.
It is not a darkspawn invasion. It's just the Warden-Commander. Their head returns to the pillow with an eloquent sound akin to that of a slowly dying bear.
...Wait, it's the Warden-Commander.
Covers are flung. Limbs thrown haphazardly to the floor. It is only one single instant, barely a blink, before Rook is standing sharply at attention, eyes barely open and hair a rats nest notwithstanding. "Ser, sorry, ser!" And also, "wait, how did you get in here?"
" a bong? " he echoes, a stir of amusement in his face taking the form of a slight grin. " what a curious name. "
out of anything in the galaxy to possess that name, he supposes the oddly shaped glass will do. she moves on, realises the intent of his question, to which he offers just a small and polite nod.
" i did mean the animal. " he leans a little closer - in a way that allows him to both take a better look at the Creature and ensure he's not invading her personal space - and hums in thought. " indeed, you seem to be correct. rather small for a dragon .. at least the ones i recall encountering. "
he scratches at his beard. man, he's really thinking about this. " with less wings. "
qui-gon's hands unite at his back, fold into eachother as his gaze leaves the stranger - though his attention certainly doesn't. " a deepstalker, you say? i don't believe i've ever heard of those. by its name, i assume its species reside underground? "
gaze returning to her briefly, it's a sign he's still listening, just perusing the store. " oh, no. i'm looking for a bong with a different theme. perhaps a tree, or another kind of plant. don't let me separate you from your dragon. "
"Right." She has no idea if he's fucking with her or if he genuinely was in here not knowing what a bong was, in which case, hey, they're two kindred spirits because Rook was only introduced to the concept like a week ago and still doesn't fully Get It. "See, you put theβ you put the elfroot in the... here, and you... add water, I think? And boil it?" Her tone climbs increasingly higher, less certain. "Like tea?"
Maybe? She's gotten high as hell off of some teas before. She stretches out her hands slightly so he can get a better look at the Animal.
"I don't... actually know, really, I'm new at this." She laughs at his assessment of the maybe-dragon, then cuts herself off abruptly because he seems so serious when he remarks on it not being life sized that maybe he wasn't actually joking. Did he expect them to make an actual dragon-sized bong? "I mean, not all dragons have wings, but yeah, I was thinking the same thing. And it's probably not a deepstalker, either, they'd be... leggier. They're kind of likeβ"
She pauses. Then places the bong into his hands so she can hunch over, hands clawed in front of her, in the way that deepstalkers are in the habit of doing. Not at all as low to the ground and curled as the coiled glass reptile they are examining so intently.
"βThey're less cute," she concludes once she straightens back up. "And they burrow through stone. And spit venom. I don't think many people make statues out of them. Or bongs." It would just be creepy. Like, she would totally want one of them sitting on her shelf, but most other people wouldn't. She has no idea about this guy, though. She can't even guess if half the things he's saying are for real or not, let alone what his tastes might be, so she latches onto the single glimpse of clarity he provides once it's offered.
"There's a few plant-shaped ones, I saw them earlier. Mushrooms, mostly," which makes sense. "But you might be able to find a tree. Are you a fan of gardening?"
there may be a lack at the center of his very being not yet used to the vanishing of the living force, an unusual off-set weight at the loss of his lightsaber .. but at least, there is solace in knowing new yesteryear allows for the purchase of marcan herbs. there are stores dedicated just to it, in fact - or, how it's known here, "cannabis" - that will sell not only the herb, but the glass recipient needed, too.
he's browsing the selection offered by this particular store and can't help but notice another costumer ogling a very oddly shaped one. it looks nearly like a lizard of some kind, and the woman is holding it as if it's quite valuable.
" hello, " qui-gon greets with a smile. " what is that .. creature, if i may ask? "
With no world-ending crisis to fix, no Blight to call to her, Rook has found herself with a lot of free time as of late. A lot.
She's used it very productively: sparring with the Warden-Commander and throwing small pebbles at the Magician's window in hopes that he will come out to the balcony so she can attempt to woo him and eating questionable fruits off of desert cactuses (cacti?) to help Gaster with his "experiments".
That was a rabbit hole in and of itself, hence she finds herself here, eventually. The Wardens pass around elfroot all the time - Rook tended to, uh, abstain, back then, at least if it was the night before a battle. She'd kind of flipped out the last few times she tried it. But this is a way less stressful environment, she can totally handle it now. It'll relax her. That's what it's supposed to do, right? She could use that. It'd keep her mind off of the apocalypse that's going on without her back home.
She's a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of offerings. But this one is cute, kind of to the point that she'd feel bad using it to smoke - still, she keeps it in her hands for a while like it's an emotional support animal. Her emotional support bong. It catches the eye of another customer, some man who is unreasonably tall for a human and objectively so hot that she's beginning to think she's been wasting weeks of her time trying to find a way to make a move on the Magician.
She looks at him and then at the glass... thing in her hands and then back at him. "It's a bong," she replies kindly as though explaining something very obvious. "Oh, wait, unless youβ did you mean the animal? Then yeah, I have no idea," she confesses. Maybe it's an animal specific to this place. She's not done a lot of reading on the subject of local flora and fauna, or whatever. Rook doesn't do a lot of reading in general, if she can help it.
"It looks a little like a dragon, doesn't it?" With less wings. "Or a deepstalker." With less fangs. "Sorry, did you want it? I was kind of just... holding it."
the βand now, i die.β line from rook during weisshaupt is one of the funniest lines in the game because it represent how much they are that guy (tm) that just showed up. they know how ridiculous it is that their trying to fight an elven vape cloud god and itβs neo pet. they just are like βwell fuck it, we ballβ
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wizard who's too lazy to name things properly and so can't ever find the incantation she's looking for bc her spellbook is full of spells called shit like 'aaaa1' and 'asdfghjk'
It's more like a... sludge up there, right now. It's not looking much better on my end of things, if it helps - we're right on the coastline. I feel like that says it all.
Oh. No, yeah, that's way worse. I'd freak out if I was anywhere near the ocean right now. At least there's... mountains over here, I guess? High ground we can run to if it gets that bad.
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AS MUCH AS HARMONY MISSED IOWA , though she supposed "miss" is a very strong word , there was nothing like a good beach. Sure , the state had lakes , but there was nothing like the scent of the sea breeze and the sight of the vast , sprawling ocean. And the best thing about New Yesteryear is that there was no shortage of beaches. But that presented her with a new problem : which beach did she want to go to ? She had already gone to Luctenmire and perused their selection ( though her outing was interrupted by a rude scruffy - looking guy who thought he knew more than her ) , so she figured that one closer to where she lived would be her best bet.
SHE WAS TRYING TO GET TO THE BOARDWALK when she saw the stranger scramble away from the water like it was going to eat them. Her gaze shifts from the them , to the shore , before it settles back on them again. β Is the water too cold ? β She asks , like that's the only reason that someone would voluntarily leave the water. β I know it took me a while to get used to it. But it's good for you ! C'mon , I was just about to head down. You should join me ! β
"Huh?" Rook replies, eloquently, as the question flies right past her. The temperature of the water had in no way, shape, or form ever crossed her mind. The water existing was simply threat enough. "Oh, the - no, no, it's fine. I mean. I'm sure it's fine. Very... wet and temperate." Obviously, or nobody'd be so enthusiastic about venturing into it. She glances down the length of the beach before looking back to the young woman beside her.
"Actually, water and I don't really tend to get along. I wouldn't say we're on speaking terms. But, uh, you go on and have fun. I'm all-in on, y'know... counting sand."
[ greyestwarden ] -> GOOD MORNING πππ€ͺπ€ͺππ WAKE UP AND SMELL THE GAINS EVERYBODY πͺπͺπͺππππ―π― RISE N GRINDβΌοΈβΌοΈπ₯π₯ππππ
[ greyestwarden ] -> WHOSE boyfriend is screwing with your supply chains??
[ greyestwarden ] -> i can knock - i mean talk some sense into him. just say the word
" Fair enough I suppose. Though, something tells me you didn't stay out of the loop for too long... "
If Rook was put on a mission to hunt down the elvhen god of lies, Eolas couldn't imagine them NOT breaking some sort of protocol to get the information they needed... It's certainly what she would do in that situation, though, chasing down gods was the absolute last thing on her metaphorical checklist.
" Hang on. You said gods. Plural. Which gods ? "
She was having a hard enough time wrapping her head around the concept of Fen'harel walking around and that was old news by now. Solas or whatever the fuck his name was came up in conversation at least once when Alistair came back from the Inquisition. But Rook said Gods... Which meant more names from the teachings of her youth were about to come into conversation.
" Mythal'enaste... Maybe we both need to sit, da'len. Perhaps somewhere away from here. Call me paranoid, but I don't think I want that odd man who brought us here knowing anything more than he already does. "
"If the First Warden had anything to say about it, I definitely still would be," Rook snorts, but thank the Maker that Antoine and Evka are both rational and crazy enough to go above his head on this one. "The Wardens had no idea what they were fighting against and if he'd had his way, they still wouldn't. Weisshaupt could've been so much worse." Which, honestly, they don't even want to think about.
At least now they're working together. Rook and the remaining Wardens, however few of them remain. Whether that means they actually stand a chance remains to be seen. It's hard to feel optimistic, no matter how hard Rook tries, when their opponents are...
...Right. They should probably clarify that one. "Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain." A brief pause. "Solasβ I mean, Fen'Harel isβ he's... not actually part of the problem. Or, he is, sort of, but that's a different problem than the one we're handling right now. Kinda? He started it, so it's connected, but..." they trail off. Maker, it really is complicated now that they think of it. The Commander has the right idea.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right," they agree tiredly. At least Rook has gotten really good at summing up The Problem in a timely manner, as of late. They only have to recap everything about ten times a day, after all. "Let me buy you a coffee and we'll find somewhere a little more secure to talk. Just know it's... it's going to be really, really hard to believe."
a series of open starters for Rook this month, all set in sunset's end!
step 1: open read more
step 2: peruse starters
step 3: respond to whichever one appeals to your character (just let me know which one you're responding to in your reblog!)
i. or lie a coward in my grave
When the first chair flies overhead, Rook starts to think that maybe this is one of those serious bar fights that she shouldn't have gotten involved with now that she's missing her knives.
To her credit, she's been pretty good about avoiding them. Hasn't even started any, which is no small feat when you've got a very punchable face ( or so she's heard from other Wardens ) and a tendency to run your mouth. But her perfect record is definitely getting thrown out the window; Rook jumps backwards as a table is toppled over and then slides to crouch behind it right as someone else also ducks for cover behind the same table. She glances sideways at them, and they don't immediately seem like they're out to punch her, so she smiles and shouts over the eruption of angry yelling from across the saloon.
"Hey. Come here often?"
ii. a mad raging sea is a-callin' to me
They've been avoiding the coasts like the plague for well over a month now and it's starting to feel a little silly, given how much everybody hypes it up out there. Oooh, the water's so clear and wooow, you should see the crystal sands, big deal! They've been to Rivain. They know what sand looks like. But nobody can shut up about it - geez, maybe they really are missing out? Stupid to let a thing like fear stop you from checking out something really fucking awesome, Rook's always thought.
So here they are. They're kind of regretting it now, watching how quick the water can sneak up on you out here. They'd ventured out a little further into the tides, a wave had crested well above their thighs, and they'd scrambled back with the desperate fervor of a dying man. They stand back ten or twenty feet from the sea meets the shore now, arms folded tightly across their chest. There's other stuff to do out here, they're sure, but it's always right there in their peripheral vision: The Nefarious Ocean.
"Huh?" They startle when someone brushes against their arm, trying to sidle past them - they hadn't realized they were entirely blocking the end of one of the small boardwalks leading onto the beach. "Oh. Sorry. My bad. No, you go ahead, I'm good back here. Super busy, actually. Just... I'm... counting grains of sand."
iii. through rain and wind and weather ( challenge )
Rook's no scholar, no academic expert on animal bones or even live animals or, really, much of anything at all. But she does know one thing: she fucking loves dragons, and those big old skeletons lying out half-buried in the sand sure look like dragons to her. It's the sort of sight that makes you glad you've got the time here to stop and gawk at the scenery rather than running from blight boil to blight boil or throwing yourself in front of a pissed-off Venatori orβ no, who is she kidding. She'd trade anything to get back home to the blight and the bastards.
But yeah, at least there's dragon skeletons here.
She glances skyward, squinting at the sun, hand shielding her face partially from the winds that whip up the sand and sting her cheeks with it. She should probably head back soon, skies looking like they are ( if there's one thing she does know, it's storms ) but then out of the corner of her eye she spots another figure trudging across the desert and, come on, she just found a giant dead dragon, that's the sort of discovery that can't be experienced alone. She scrambles up a sand dune on all fours before getting to her feet and waving an arm over her head.
"Hey! Hey, come over here and check this out!"
iv. Mr Gaster I Don't Feel So Good ( closed, for @anotherhiim )
They're a 'try anything once' kind of gal, which means that when they run into a stall at the market selling cactus fruit from out in the desert at an absolutely ridiculous price, they naturally buy one ( two, actually, just in case it's really good ).
...They're not exactly sure if the weirdly wet skeleton that walks past a few minutes later is a side effect of said fruit or not. In the event that it is not, Rook holds out half of the second fruit to it ( the first one really was that good, so yes, they'd already started in on it ).
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second of all - trust him , he's thinking the exact same thing .
in fact , nod is entirely consumed in how in the world he's going to access his ' housing ' when he actually gets there - where ' there ' is . he's seen the doors in this place , suited entirely for stompers - is he just supposed to jump onto the little door knob and pathetically jump on it until it gives ? or even worse , ask for help ?
no , no . let's not jump to the worst case scenario .
he's so lost in thought regarding his predicament that he hardly notices the individual from older - casting him peculiar glances while whittling away at - whatever the hell that thing is .
" . . do i want a what ? " it's comes out a little more indignant than he intended it to . he hadn't meant to come off as so disgusted by the suggestion , but he was putting himself in a sour mood by focusing so heavily on how in the world he was going to access his dorming arrangements . his apology is conveyed only through a slightly kinder tone when he continues , " i mean - not really . look , i appreciate the offer , but i can get around just fine on my own . i'd rather have a bird than - what is that , a rock ? how am i going to make a rock listen to where i want to go ? "
"A golem?" What part of that was unclear. They hold out the little palm-sized golem they're working on, which... okay, it's not actually much of a golem. It's a little rock with two eyeholes chipped into it. They don't even know where to begin when it comes to giving this thing limbs, let alone life, but that's a problem for future Rook. "You know, the big walking rock things?" Though walking is really a secondary feature. Mostly they're for punching things, throwing things, smashing things... you get the picture. They glance down to the stone in their palm. "Maybe this one's not a very good example."
But to be fair they don't exactly know where they would find a better example. Even back home they only ever saw golems once or twice. They shrug, unbothered when he turns down the offer, regardless. It's going to be hard enough to make one golem, let alone two golems. Otherwise, yeah, Rook totally would be handing out golems willy-nilly. Everybody could use a golem.
"Oh, a bird? That's a great idea," their voice drops to a mumble when they ask themselves why didn't I think of that? "Makes way more sense than a golem. But, uh, when it's finished, there's - so they use this thing called a control rod, I guess, and... you know what? I don't actually know all the details. I'm new to this whole golem-building thing." And the whole golem thing in general but you can't just walk around admitting that. "But it'd follow orders, that's kind of the whole point."
