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Couldn't take the comparison anymore. Once I saw it it could not be unseen. Quietly slipped Rook into wildwood skin. Good'a time as any to tweak him since I'm on a waiting list for art for him finally. He doesn't look as aged as I'd like but still older than Devlin by a wide margin so I can work with it in art and his refs. Scruff and Five o'clock shadows when SE?
Warm enough to soothe aching muscles without roasting him alive in the middle of a Limsan heatwave. No man wanted a frigid bath, but Rook wasn't trying to boil himself like a lobster either.
A glass of whiskey rested within arm's reach while the evening settled into a rare, welcome silence.
And then... the front door creaked open.
Hooves echoed against the floorboards.
Rook didn't bother opening his eyes.
"Evening, Bess."
The ewe answered with a contented bleat as she wandered through the house. A moment later came the familiar scrape of teeth against wood and the icebox opening, followed by a heavy thump that could only mean one thing.
Rook cracked an eye.
Bess had once again planted herself directly in front of the open icebox, perfectly content to let the cool air wash over her wool.
"Not what it's for."
She bleated.
"I mean it."
Another bleat.
"...fair enough."
He had no clue what she said but took it to mean, get up and move me if you care so much. Which he absolutely would not do. So the house settled again.
For perhaps three whole seconds.
The peace shattered as claws scrambled across the porch.
"Tobin..."
The greyhound came barreling through the doorway like he'd been fired from a ballista, knocking a chair sideways before launching himself into the bath without the slightest hesitation.
Water exploded over the sides of the tub.
Rook jerked up right with soaked hair hanging in his face while Tobin stood chest-deep in the water, tongue lolling proud as ever.
Rook stared at him, then sighed.
"...you done?"
Two familiar howls answered from somewhere outside.
Kael appeared first, followed closely by Neri. The bloodhounds sniffed curiously at the bath, glanced at one another, and after arriving at whatever conclusion bloodhounds arrived at, began climbing in as well.
There was considerably less elegance involved than you'd imagined.
By the time both had wedged themselves inside, there was barely enough room left for Rook to bend his knees.
"Llymlaen preserve me..." Halone had long since stopped crossing his lips, not that Llymlaen seemed any better at hearing his pleas.
Vox wandered in next, stopping politely beside the tub. She simply sat there, tail brushing happily across the floor as she watched the others.
Behind her came Zeus.
The great black wolf lowered himself onto the floor with a grunt, pale blue eyes watching the spectacle with what Rook chose to interpret as quiet judgment.
"There," Rook muttered. "See? Somebody around here has sense."
Vox looked at Zeus.
Then at the bath.
Then back at Zeus.
Apparently that was all the encouragement she needed.
She hopped in.
More water sloshed across the floor.
Rook slowly turned toward the direwolf.
"...don't."
Zeus blinked.
"Buddy."
He rose to all fours.
Heavy paws crossed the room one deliberate step at a time.
"C'mon..."
He reached the side of the tub.
"I swear to the gods, if you..."
For the briefest moment, Rook would've sworn the beast smiled.
Then Zeus climbed in, shoving the others over and half onto Rook himself.
The tub surrendered.
Five dogs piled against him in a mountain of damp fur. Vox leaned happily against his chest, Kael and Neri occupied what little legroom remained, Tobin had somehow wedged himself beneath one arm, and Zeus... Zeus simply existed, taking up the majority of the bath by virtue of being Zeus.
Rook tried reaching for the soap.
Couldn't.
He made an attempt at his whiskey.
Also couldn't.
With a long, defeated sigh, he leaned back as five contented creatures shared one very overcrowded bath with him.
"I'm buying you all a pool."
Though they couldn't have known what that meant, a chorus of yips rang out just the same.
He couldn't tell you why. He simply thinks they're beautiful.
There's a little flower shop down the road from his home where three elderly women have adopted him as their unofficial handyman.
He stops by now and then to repair a shelf, patch a leak, or carry the heavier deliveries, and they always send him home with a stem or two of his favorite flower.
Which Bess usually tries, and sometimes succeeds, at eating.
The first time they asked him to choose one, he pointed to the white tiger lilies without hesitation.
The shop fell silent.
Then came the giggles.
Whispered gossip.
Knowing smiles.
Rook left thoroughly confused.
What he doesn't know is that, in their region, white tiger lilies carry a well known meaning:
"I dare you to love me."
The old women have never had the heart to tell him.
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The scraggly greyhound looked up proudly, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as though he'd just accomplished something worth celebrating.
The visitor stared, blinked, then slowly lowered his gaze.
"...did your dog just piss on me?" he grit out through clinched teeth.
Rook glanced down from where he'd been leaning against the fence.
"He does that."
The man shook out his pant leg with growing frustration.
"And you... let him?"
Rook shrugged, "I've tried explaining manners to him. Bad Tobin."
The stranger let out a humorless laugh.
He was a narrow fellow. Expensively dressed, though not well enough to hide the sort of work he did. Rings on nearly every finger. Hair slicked back despite the coastal humidity. Eyes that never stopped measuring everything around them.
Including Rook.
"Yes, well, as I was saying. I represent a business concern," the man continued. "One that requires additional security. Quiet work. Good pay."
Rook listened without interrupting.
The job sounded exactly like he'd expected.
Escort duty. Guard work. The sort of contract respectable folk pretended not to know existed.
"We've heard you're reliable."
"I usually am."
"And discreet."
"When paid to be."
The man's smile returned.
"I believe we'll get along wonderfully."
Tobin wandered closer again, sniffing curiously at the stranger's trouser leg. The man's patience finally broke.
"Get away from me, you..."
His boot drew back, but he never finished his sentence.
Rook moved first.
One step.
His fist shot out, with practiced precision, before twisting into an uppercut.
The stranger's feet left the ground, and he landed flat on his back with a grunt.
Silence settled over the yard. Even Tobin paused, tilting his head in confusion.
Rook looked down at the man for a moment before extending a hand to the stunned man.
"Shit. You'll have to forgive me."
The stranger accepted it cautiously as Rook hauled him back onto his feet with surprising ease.
"Two decades of mercenary work has left me a touch... act first, question later."
He brushed a bit of dirt from the man's shoulder.
"I could've sworn you were about to kick my dog.", Rook added, a bit of humor lacing his all too upbeat tone.
His steel gray eyes met the man's.
"But you don't strike me as an ignorant man."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Rook's mouth, a slight chuckle accompanying his next words.
"So I must've been mistaken."
The visitor swallowed.
"...quite right."
He adjusted his shirt and coat with shaky hands.
"Of course I would never do anything untoward to your... dogs."
Behind Rook, Tobin sneezed.
Zeus, who had been watching silently from the hill overlooking the yard, rose to his feet.
The enormous black hound took a single step forward.
The man noticed.
"So..."
He cleared his throat.
"About the contract?"
Rook gave a small nod.
"I'll take it."
Relief washed across the stranger's face.
"Splendid! My courier will be waiting in Ul'dah tomorrow."
"I'll meet them at the eastern gate, midday."
Rook's expression never changed.
"Don't come here again."
The man blinked.
"...pardon?"
"My home isn't where I discuss business."
Rook reached down to scratch behind Tobin's ears.
"And my dogs don't much care for strangers."
The visitor looked once more toward Zeus.
The massive black hound hadn't moved.
He hadn't needed to.
"...u-understood."
The man hurried down the path without another word, and Rook watched until he disappeared beyond the bend.
Only then did he look down at Tobin.
"You know..."
The greyhound looked up with that perpetually vacant expression, tongue hanging off to one side.
Honestly even Devlin and Valori call him Rook these days. Anything else is someone making an effort to address him differently and he takes notice of things like that.
Rook had adored his mother while she was alive, but she passed when he was young. His father however was ever the absent one, and I think you can see a lot of how that shaped Rook as a father as well. I think sometimes he grieves the loss of the relationship he could have had with his father more than the man himself.
Rook is an aged man so he's not subtle with his affection so much as he is consistent in a way that some might miss. He's going to cook you a meal, casually set your boots out, sharpen or clean your weapons, replace something you've run out of.
He's capable of romantic gestures too but those are a bit more intentional. If I had to sum up how he cares in general though?
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Turns out signing back up for Tumblr proved beneficial after all and I found a new avenue to reach out for rp and look for a new fc. Thanks for the assist!
If you come across this, I'm not really consistent active on tumblr, having only just signed back up for it for the first time in ages.
I am however active in ffxiv and available for rp there as well as on discord. As of June have been actively seeking out new rp connections for Rook.
My former FC wrapped things up when our lead decided to away to Second Life and my two rp partners left for the summer taking their much earned season away from uni.
If you can stomach that I've used AI references in his carrd, I did try to find solid artists to hire but have had abysmal luck and too many scam attempts, check out Rook @ https://rookmercer.carrd.co and reach out here or in game on mateus (Rook Mercer) if you'd be interested in writing.
I've written a few posts on his blog here to showcase who he is as well as what my writing is like these days. I'd call it choppy but I make an effort to paragraph from time to time.
If I had to sum up Rook, or his stories, for anyone browsing though, I'd say...
...this is the guy who cooks for the crew, keeps six animals, quietly gives money to his son who hates him, sleeps with the same courtesan because neither of them wants false promises, steals from insurers instead of starving families, and says very little unless it matters.
Key things about him: Patient with animals. Worn-down father. Quietly regretful. Lives simply. Keeps routine. Doesn't defend himself against Devlin (his adult son) because he knows words won't matter.
Extremely competent. Trusted by the captains. Unexpectedly an excellent cook. Morally gray. Calm in combat. Will bend the rules if it means ordinary people eat.
Doesn't panic. Takes command without needing to. Acts first. Doesn't waste time mourning what can't be changed until later. Is the sort of man others instinctively follow.
He doesn't confuse physical intimacy with love. He doesn't use women, or men, cruelly. He pays because he respects their profession, not because he thinks they're beneath him. He's emotionally closed off because he's not yet found that thing that he believes should exist between two people in love, not because he's incapable of caring. He believes he's got "too much baggage" as well, and likes to keep things casual.
I will write: slice, adventure, mercenary jobs, combat, erotic scenes, mature, dark, intrigue and more or less everything in between. I ask that you / your character be at least 18+ due to adult themes regardless if the rp is platonic. I am open to a romance for him, but after the last attempt which was my first in a very long time, I'd prefer it be an excruciatingly slow development.
I will not write: harm to children (I hate that I have to say this but it's come up), meaningless erotic scenes, the same thing day in and day out (I like to mix the genres up now and then) and poly relationships. I'm 100% okay with and encourage platonic RP and connections as well.
If you have an active RP FC I think I'm about read to toss my hat in with another group so feel free to contact me about that as well. I'll pin this in case anyone comes across it in their search in the future and otherwise wish you all well.
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Rook arrived in Limsa Lominsa with his coin purse one job... alright, two jobs heavier.
When he reached the fork in the road that split toward home on one side and the Drowning Wench on the other, he hesitated.
Rael had watched over the pack for almost a month already.
What was one more night?
Truth be told, the old sailor would probably be glad to do it forever if he knew it meant the Rook was making even the slightest attempt at "finding happiness".
It was an unhurried walk, nearly a bell, before Rook's boots crossed the familiar tavern floor and carried him to an empty stool at the end of the bar.
He wouldn't take a table.
Wouldn't order a meal.
Both implied he intended to stay.
Flagging down the barkeep, he ordered a whiskey. He had barely finished the glass when a pair of slender arms slid across the polished countertop beside him.
His gaze followed them upward to a familiar, beautiful face before wandering back down the graceful curve of her back. She leaned against the bar with practiced confidence, a teasing smile tugging at her lips as she tilted her head from side to side.
"Hey, Rook."
"Talia."
The corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smile.
"Didn't think I'd see you again so soon. Just back from a job?"
Rather than answer, Rook set enough gil on the counter to cover the drink and a generous tip before rising to his feet.
He offered her a hand.
She accepted without hesitation.
Apparently his silence was answer enough.
She waved goodbye to a friend across the room before following him toward the lift.
Three minutes later the door to her room clicked shut behind them.
Whatever restraint either of them had maintained downstairs disappeared with it.
Weeks at sea had left him aching for something warmer than salt air and harder than a ship's cot. Talia met him halfway, familiar hands finding him as naturally as his found her. There was no awkwardness between them, only the easy confidence of two people who knew exactly what the other needed.
Laughter slipped between stolen kisses.
The exhaustion of travel finally caught up with him, and the pair stumbled to the floor together in an undignified heap.
For a heartbeat they simply looked at one another.
Then they laughed.
When the laughter faded, so too did the distance.
Talia caught his chin by the beard, giving it a teasing tug until he met her eyes.
"Stay out of your head while you're with me."
He huffed a quiet laugh.
"Bossy."
"Damn right."
She slipped from his lap only long enough to stand and disrobe fully.
Rook rose behind her, one hand settling at her waist before drawing her back against him. His voice dropped to its usual gravelly rumble as he leaned down and whispered against her ear.
"Hands on the wall."
She obeyed without argument.
The room filled with the steady rhythm of bodies colliding, interrupted only by ragged breaths and the occasional muffled gasp that escaped despite her best efforts to keep quiet.
Neither noticed how much noise they were making until Talia finally cried his name.
That sound echoed down the hallway.
Only then did the room fall still again.
They collapsed together against the wall, breathing hard.
For several long moments neither of them spoke.
Finally Talia obliterated the silence with a tired laugh.
"I think we're getting too old not to use the bed."
Rook snorted. "Maybe you are."
She swatted his shoulder.
He caught her hand before she could pull away.
This had become their arrangement after the last partner Rook had tried to build a future with disappeared without warning.
No explanation.
No farewell.
Just absence.
He knew how these things ended.
Sooner or later they met Devlin.
Sooner or later they saw an aging mercenary with too much baggage.
Sooner or later they left.
"You're thinking again."
Talia reached up, giving his cheek a playful pat until he looked back at her.
He scoffed, though there wasn't much conviction behind it.
She smiled knowingly.
They eventually washed up and ate a light meal Talia had ordered to the room.
After Rook dressed he reached for his coin pouch but she fervently pushed it back toward him.
"No."
"Talia..."
"I know you're still sending money to your son."
She folded his fingers back over the pouch.
"Keep it."
He frowned.
"You need the coin too."
She smiled sadly.
"Not this time. I'm... I'm afraid this was our last tryst."
That finally got his attention.
She leaned against the washstand, drying her hands.
"A wailer came through a while back."
Rook waited, his expression unreadable.
"He's asked me to come with him. Be his wife. Take care of his home."
"And?"
"I said I'd think about it."
He studied her for a long moment before giving a slow nod.
"Seems you've thought about it."
"I have."
There was no jealousy.
No anger.
Only quiet acceptance.
Rook stepped closer, pulling her in for a quick embrace before brushing a thumb across her cheek and stepping back.
"I'm happy for you, Tal."
The moisture gathering in her eyes threatened to spill over, but she smiled anyway.
"You know... if you'd ever asked..."
She trailed off.
He smiled sadly.
"I know."
...
He lingered only a moment longer before turning for the door.
"Take care of yourself, Rook."
"You too."
The room was quiet again by the time it closed behind him.
Outside, the night carried on as though nothing had changed.
Each was tethered to the mast, its weathered body threatening to snap with every monstrous wave that crashed over the deck.
Time slowed to a crawl.
The captain was trapped in the middle of a blink.
Rain hung suspended in perpetual purgatory as the ship rose to meet the sky.
Lightning forked across the heavens, casting the deck in stark white and illuminating the carnage waiting to happen.
The railing beneath Rook's grip creaked in protest as his sharp, steel eyes swept across the ship.
He drew in a slow breath.
Relishing the weight of his body.
The certainty of his stance.
The droplets that slipped in with the warm air burned his lungs, but he gave them nothing.
His eyes closed.
For one blissful moment...
There was only silence.
Then the ship came crashing down.
The hull slammed into the sea with bone rattling force, hurling the crew across the deck. Ribs bruised against rails. An arm snapped with a sickening crack. A sailor vanished over the side, swallowed whole by the black water before anyone could so much as shout his name.
No one moved to follow.
To chase him was to join him.
Rook caught himself against the wheel as it spun wildly out of control. He hauled it back to center, fighting the sea for every inch while the captain staggered to his feet beside him, muttering desperate prayers to Llymlaen between ragged breaths.
Once the wheel was steady, back in the proper hands, Rook wrapped a length of rope around his wrist and threw himself over the upper railing.
He landed hard on the lower deck, boots skidding across rain slick planks before coming alongside another hired sword whose sea legs had long since abandoned him.
He retied the man's safety line with practiced hands before hauling a loose sail back into place as another flash of lightning split the sky.
They could have called upon the merchants to help.
But asking untrained hands onto a deck like this was little different than throwing them into the sea themselves.
With the storm showing no sign of breaking, and dawn still bells away, Rook grit his teeth and moved on to the next task.
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