#bev writes

Emmrich, Davrin, Assan, and Rook were making their way into the more solid areas of the swamp, dead grass and long abandoned crops breaking underneath their feet. It was only slightly more bearable compared to the other spots they’ve traveled through, like the dense tunnels of blight boils or lingering darkspawn hiding within dark waters. At least on the flatlands it was easy to spot anything that would want to kill them, but unfortunately that advantage was also given to the enemy. Assan did his best to keep an aerial lookout while the group trudged through, weapons drawn and eyes peering out for any trouble.

In the midst of the brown and tan dead grass laid a house. Small and quaint in its structure, or at least what remained of it. A good portion of the old wood had collapsed in on itself. Its roof caved far in back to the foundation. Some of the beams and siding stood strong as best they could, but it was a losing battle. Much of it was rotting away by this point, and anything that was still standing was slowly beginning to topple from the hefty vines of the blight inhabiting it. 

Emmrich released a shaky breath at the sight of it. Faint memories stirred in the back of his mind, ones that continued to grow fuzzier and fuzzier with the passing of time yet always struck his emotions the same. His feet were hesitant when they made their way closer to the scene, until finally they seized their movement completely as Davrin and Rook stepped inside to investigate. The crumbling beams created an unease deep in the pit of his stomach. It was the same unease when he entered any old house; the disturbance that drove him to subtly check the structure should any unfortunate befall, to note where all available exits are, to prefer being in places like the Necropolis with their thick stone architecture. Assan rubbed against his leg, attempting to provide some reassurance to the old man, until Davrin commanded the griffon over to help dig something. Emmrich, however, stayed put.

From under the rubble of wood and blight was a body. Far into its decompositions and completely unidentifiable, although it was likely the owner or a family member. The team was able to dig around the skull, bringing its boney face to the surface while the rest was unfortunately still buried deep below. Davrin and Rook talked about what to do. The Grey Warden encampment was miles away, too far to get anyone immediately, but to leave without any information to give back felt like a disservice. Davrin looked over at Emrmich, and the mage already felt his hands shake. 

“Emmrich! Could you come and do that corpse talking thing? We’d just need a name, or any information on what we could bring back to the wardens for them,”  

Emmrich sighed, looking around at the open land. He felt silly hesitating, but the moment he attempted to move the lingering memories and heartache in his mind shocked him from advancing. He swallowed, cursing himself for these circumstances. “Would it be possible to bring them out from the rubble? I typically need more space to complete the spell,”

There was some movement from the two, attempting to clear hazards around the corpse but in the end it was no use with such a small team. “Sorry, Emmrich,” Rook called. “You’ll have to come here,”

 When the words left Rook’s mouth, they could only look at Emmrich with saddened sympathy. They knew why Emmrich was so nervous. He showed his leader their gravestones. How the last remains of Emmrich’s family were stripped away from him in one single incident, only to be joined by the loneliness and fear that followed with it. Davrin seemed to catch on that something was wrong, and when he asked Rook for further information, they were only able to get out, “It’s-his parents, they-” before sighing. 

That proved to be enough for Davrin, who stood up and made his way through the rubble back towards Emmrich. From where the doorway used to be, Davrin held out his hand, eyes focused on Emmrich brimmed with the plea to trust him. If there was one thing he and Emmrich shared, it was their pledge to serve others and help as best they could. They were bound to their duties no matter how afraid they were of failing or getting hurt. Emmrich met Davrin’s dark eyes, swallowed again, and grabbed the elf’s forearm. Two walked back to the rubble, Emmrich making no comment on how tight he was holding on to Davrin. Some more humorous side to him felt like a princess being guided by her knight, but the smell of bubbling blight and rotting flesh eradicated any cheerful imagery. He came down to his knees in front of the corpse. A sense of smallness trapped his mind. His back was turned to the danger of the hanging wood lingering around him.           

A deep creak caused Emmrich to hesitate, impulsively ducking towards the ground with a gasp. Davrin’s hand rested on his shoulder, his shield brought out and prepared to cover them both. Behind them Rook stood tall with a spell already charging, and from above Assan surveyed to keep watch of the upper roofing. He was protected. Safe. For the first time he was able to breathe deeply while standing in the ruins of a home. 

After their work, the two reconvened in Emmrich’s room. Manfred, who spent an hour of the night hiding impressively well within a small kitchen cabinet during the attack, peeled away with Spite’s manifestation to wash his now soiled gloves, allowing the men some time alone to finally talk. Lucanis walked in and saw the bare back of Emmrich’s frame, the soft sloping of his narrow sides and the small rolls by his hips, right where the skin met with the edge of his well-fitted pants. It vanished when he slipped on a light button up, but the more Lucanis looked the more he could see the muscles work underneath it. Emmrich took a breath in before turning back to the other man. He had grown to know the feeling of Lucanis’ eyes on him, and he had learned to not be scared of it. The man was similar to a fussy cat, too proud to meow out loud that he wanted attention, but hoped that by staring hard enough he would get it all the same.

Whilst sitting on a bench surrounded by a fragmented air from the newly bloomed flowers, he read to himself Kravertin’s Living And Death Between Souls And Spirits, which explored theories and numerous personal excerpts regarding the potential developments mages and non-mages experience with spirits as companions. It was a rather thick literary piece that helped to spark off several like-minded works, this acting as the first step in the understanding, but it was a text that fascinated Emmrich. He had come to know several Mourn Watchers and outside travelers who took on spirits as allies, friends, and to some even the equivalent of family members. He smiled at the thought. To have an associate so attuned with the Fade, one who has seen countless destinations across the endless sea of time. It fascinated Emmrich with his whole chest.

In the midst of his quiet indulgence, he felt the smallest of tickles by the back of his head. It was slightly cold to the touch with a faint reverberation, almost like the buzzing of a bee. Emmrich smiled before sharply turning his head towards the source, knowing precisely what it was. 

A wisp of curiosity, one physically smaller than many of the other forces taking home in the gardens, was caught toying with the back of his hair. The little wonderment was fond of many people, but seemed to have developed a particular liking to Emmrich during his last few visits. Emmrich assumed it was due to his mental state whenever he wandered through the garden, one brimming with nonstop urges to plan out his endeavors to ensure no mistakes nor failures. Such rattlements of thoughts must have lured it. The wisp gave a few chirps and, unlike the others that tended to flee when their mischief was caught, settled itself near Emmrich’s shoulder. When Emmrich began to read some of the words aloud, the wisp chirpped some more and leaned in further as though to read the pages itself. It was impossible for the Mourn Watcher to not chuckle at the sight. It was a darling little thing.

Emmrich turned back to his book with a sigh. “I’m certain you would be a wonderful companion,” he mused aloud. “Assist in pushing me to learn further and see things in a new light. I don’t believe you would find the world outside this place much friendly to you, however. The Necropolis itself is so vast several wisps get themselves lost within its halls every day. Oh, and the outside would be hazardous. The uneasiness of the Veil and unkind mages running amok,” he lifted a finger to the wisp, letting its white tendrils grab on to him. “I would be devastated if I was in any way the one responsible for you getting hurt,”

The wisp began to chitter, seemingly observing Emmrich as it wrapped its ligaments around the presented finger. Its light blue coloring swelled and withdrew like it was breathing. A moment passed before the mage realized it was reflecting his own breaths. In the quiet second together, it was as though the spirit had come to life all on its own, steadied by the human in front of it. Then, with a sudden growth in white light, a small shock of raw magic occurred that caused both Emmrich to jump and the book to fall off his lap and onto the pavement. For a moment Emmrich clutched his chest, attempting to calm himself as the wisp trilled beside him. Having dealt with several more naughty spirits in the past, he was relieved to feel a sense of concern in it rather than mocking giggles. 

Emmrich reassured the wisp before grabbing the book, only to find that the page had landed on a peculiar chapter. It delved into the many different physical manifestations created to harbor spirits inside of. Emmrich was no stranger to this, often having to call aid and house them within skeletal remains, but those were usually temporary. An hour at maximum. What Kravertin described was far more permanent, a way for the spirit to not only be protected but to experience the realms of reality much closer to how living mortals do. It was hard work, a lot of commitment with time and focus, but the results were often satisfactory if done with patience.