Two or three aliens who have evolved radial symmetry (and therefore have no "front") gather around a human. They take turns tapping it on the shoulder to get its attention one after the other. They have fun watching the human spin around to face each of them after every new tap, immediately followed by the next, and the next. The human could just hold still, or walk away, but it's very frustrating, and the compelling urge to tell someone to stop can't be done while their back is to them. And thus, the game continues.
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This is very likely just a coincidence, but something interesting that came to mind.
The Japanese word for shadow is “kage” which is spelled very closely to Cage. (Though pronounced differently). And Johnny’s special attacks on previous games are called “shadow” attacks
Kenshi in MK1 specifically mentions the the yakuza work “in shadows”
In a way Kenshi has traded his old yakuza shadow (the repressive one that kept him hidden) for Johnnys (a more protective, supportive one)
Thinking about solar eclipses in Greek mythos and I like the interpretation of Apollo having a Wardrobe malfunction and Diane/Artemis having tp scurry over with a change of clothes, shielding her brother from mortal eyes as he changes.
Of course, those that want to peek upon Apollo's Holy Beauty are struck through the eyes by Artemis' arrow. She does NOT tolerate nosy parkers, as her history shows.
I think it would be so funny if Angel just like, didn’t exist before David.
Now, they absolutely did, and obviously Caelum didn’t just create them into existence.
However!
Imagine: no digital childhood photos, they ‘deleted’ all their photos of Micheal (the ex), and weirdly have no photos of their old cat, they never speak of siblings, don’t speak to their parents, no social media presence until like a few months before they met David.
It’s not suspicious in the slightest, because all of these things are normal to some extent. They’re explainable. But there’s just something about it - A twinge of abnormality about them.
Maybe if a stranger looked at them for the slightest bit too long they could notice. Maybe everyone who knows them has just gotten used to it. There’s just a strange presence to them, a displacement. Something ethereal, something other - like they were a guardian angel sent down just for David. Their friends joke about it, they ask, and every time the answer is vague or Angel goes on a tangent away from the question. It’s fine. No one pays too much attention. That’s just how they act.
But.
If you focused for too long, thought about it for more than a fleeting moment, it’s almost like they didn’t exist.
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I think I'm very late, I haven't played this game in a MINUTE but I love it so so much and it gave me an excuse to backflip off a lyrical prompt. I could have made it angstier but I didn't because I'm a SAP. I was having too much fun with it, and if. IF, I turn this into a chapter. Or a fic. Or a oneshot, what have you, these lyrics will spur me for more tension/conflict. But more Solas as a Companion AU under the cut.
Such a strange situation
(Oh) A bloodless confrontation
A peaceful war for two
And the casualties are me and you
- I Don't Wanna Move On by TopHouse
Rook shut their eyes tightly, screwing them closed with the same force they shoved away the horrible possibility of an entire Thedas as lost and dangerous as the Arlathan. Full of darkspawn and ancient trees that had no business growing, Fade Touched animals and panicked new mages, demons rampaging through villages never faced by such threats before. They willed it all away, and when they opened their eyes the streets of Treviso were unchanged. "You didn't."
*****
"…No." Solas watched the dog disappear with a massive tuna in its mouth, the swearing fishmonger chasing after it and brandishing a sandal. "Not all of it."
"The gods were an accident. I know that. I know what you were trying to do. As much as I appreciate the sentiment, your grand plan to kill us all in horrible ways for the elves that no longer exist, you were being a short sighted dick."
Solas said nothing, his gaze far away.
Rook touched his sleeve, a brush of their fingertips as they pushed forward towards a stall decorated by bundles of dried spices. "Come on. Let's just get dinner sorted, or we'll both be in trouble."
Solas did barter. It was vaguely startling, and more than a little impressive.
The merchant had claimed he only had two sacks of bread flour left, and that his mill was going out of business because he'd been bought out. His wife was very pregnant, on the cusp of giving birth to their second son, and he couldn't bear to return home for only pennies for his hungry children, and very strong willed wife. Rook had listened intently, a little doubtful, but willing to pay the sum of both flours regardless. It was on the list, and it couldn't hurt to believe him.
Solas however, had folded his arms. "There are other cities, Rook. I've seen flour less expensive in the larders of Rivaini royalty."
The merchant leaned an elbow on his stall, stroking his beard. "But of worse quality, I'm sure. Mildewed by the salty air. Not in Antiva, ser. My cousin ground this flour herself. Besides, it is a fair price for both. But since you are in a hurry, ah? I'll take off three silver. You seem like reasonable people."
Solas snorted. "Come, Rook." He turned to leave. Rook almost followed by instinct alone, there was such disdainful command in his voice, before they tapped their heels on the cobblestones with an incredulous grin— stalling to a halt, just as the vendor sputtered.
"Wait, wait wait. Alright. My wife can make do better with meager earnings than none at all. Twenty five silver."
Solas paused, flicking an ear. He did not turn around. "Eighteen."
The merchant visibly swallowed a grin. "Now you rob me! No, twenty two, and that is as low as I go. You disgrace me, messere. But it will do."
"Twenty, and you have yourself a deal."
The merchant scoffed, but when Solas shrugged a shoulder, he hemmed and hawed and reached for the little packages of brown paper. "Phuh! Por hacedor, twenty then! I will have to close down!"
Rook laughed and passed the man the handful of coins from their sark, the long tails swinging. "Isn't he just heartless?"
"I am appalled. Really." The merchant turned up his nose and stuffed the money into his coat. "Will that be all?"
"Yes, thank you. Have a good evening."
"Hmph! And you as well. Don't bother coming back, I will be gone! Out on the streets!"
Rook smothered another low laugh and tapped the counter. "We will be returning customers, I assure you. Congratulations to you and your wife."
He softened a little at that, dark eyes sparkling. "Thank you very much."
They slipped off into the crowd again, and Rook tucked the thick parcels of bread flour into their basket next to the bundles of herbs and little glass jars of spice. "And I suppose the markets of Ancient Arlathan were just as ruthless, then? Hard to picture a rebel commander threading his way through for fruits and veggies."
"Less produce, more enchantments to bend the mind and weapons of spiritual attunement. You have heard the expression 'to cost an arm and a leg'?"
Rook looked at him with wide, startled eyes. Solas almost smiled. He did that a lot. A subtle crinkling of his undereyes, where the pale skin folded like parchment. Rook groaned. "You're the worst."
"You are too gullible."
"Hardy har har. Alright, Trickster God. Where to next?"
"You tell me."
"Churros, I think."
Solas inclined his head to them. Rook followed their nose to the stall filled with cinnamon and sugar, and greeted the elven woman and her eldest son who fried the dough under a bright purple awning.
"Welcome back, Rook!" The young man greeted, wiping his hands on his apron as his mother dusted sugar over the brightly wrapped tubes of pastry, her back to them.
"Ciro! Good evening, my friend. How are you?"
"I'm very well, thank you." He flashed Rook a blinding grin. "Better, since my mother's shop has not been burned to the ground."
Solas watched Rook's gaze flicker to the cobbles. "Oh, I'm glad, really."
"Hey, don't look so bashful! Our business and our homes stand because of you. This one's on the house."
Rook did not speak often of the dragon attacks on Minrathous and Treviso. Solas had not been present, and they never presented him with details. In fact, when it was brought to light, most of the Veilguard grew distant, and regarded him with a hatred well justified. It was an unfortunate quirk of timing, the mage's journey to the South. Perhaps things would have turned out differently for Detective Gallus and her home if he had been there. As it was, she had not yet returned.
"How is Master Dellamorte? Safe, I trust?" Ciro frowned, splaying his hands on the countertop.
"Yes!" Rook said quickly. "Yes, he's well." They started to smile. "Sent me on errands, you know?"
"It's a shame he could not be here. My mother says he used to have a weakness for these things." Ciro grinned and called over his shoulder. "¡Mamá! Grajo esta aquí. ¿Cuánto deberíamos descontar a su amigo?"
"Eh?" His mother turned on her heel, long dark hair tied up in a midnight blue scarf as she dusted off her hands and leaned down to her son to hear him better, but not before catching sight of Rook standing there. "Ah! ¡Bienvenidos, bienvenidos! Me alegra verte."
"Hello, madame. I trust your evening's going well. I'm pleased to see you're safe, I've missed your business these past few weeks. Lucanis puts me onto the best vendors." Rook smiled as Ciro translated.
His mother laughed and waved a hand dismissively, cheeks flushed. "No, no, para, me sentiré orgulloso. Por ti." She handed Rook a neatly wrapped churro.
"She says she'll grow proud." Ciro snorted. "Not that that's so bad. That's for you. Anything for your quiet friend?"
Solas opened his mouth to dismiss the offer, but Rook was already nodding. "Yes please. And three more. I promised some friends to bring back the good stuff." The Veil Jumper beamed. "And somehow they're always still hot, as long as I don't go far."
"Don't tell anyone, but there's a little enchantment on the wrappers." Ciro winked, turning away to follow his mother as they busied themselves fishing dough and cinnamon from the fry basin.
It wasn't long before Rook had a bundle of hot churros in the crook of their elbow. They thanked Ciro and his mother profusely and began to walk back the way they'd come, Solas drifting along behind them. Rook, still facing ahead, held out one of the steaming, sweet smelling pastries.
Solas hesitated, before wrapping his fingers around the delicate paper and taking it curiously. "Why?"
"You slept for a long time, yes? You have never had a churro."
"Well—"
"Varric told me you like sweets, on occasion. Orlesian frilly cakes, for one thing."
Solas made a noise, something between a sniff of disapproval and a sigh. Rook laughed. "Don't worry, I don't think it ruins your tough and intimidating exterior. They make me homesick." Rook adjusted their armful of groceries and began to gnaw on their own pastry, sighing contentedly as they traveled quietly through the lantern glow of the market street. "And these are just… awesome."
Solas held onto the churro. He'd think about it.
"You ever been to Antiva before now?"
"Briefly."
"Yes?" Rook glanced back at him, blue eyes sparkling with interest.
"Have you?" He redirected smoothly.
Rook snorted. "Not before this. I'd never been anywhere until Varric. Well. Orlais, then the Arlathan. And now… everywhere."
"You are priveleged indeed, to have walked so far."
"I know! I wouldn't trade it for anything. Thedas is…" Rook sighed. "Vast. Beautiful."
"In many ways," Solas acknowledged, pleating the edge of the violet paper in his hands.
"I've met so many wonderful people."
"I know the feeling."
"Isn't it… magical?" Rook snorted at their own turn of phrase, true laughter on their lips. "I sound like a sappy little brochure, but I can't help it. I mean, from all corners of the continent! Experts! A firebreathing dragon hunter, an incredible scout, a Warden!"
Solas snorted.
"Oh, quiet you."
"For someone who has seen the beauty and horrors of the elvhen homeland, you are easily impressed."
"Well. Farbeit for me to let one corner of the world dull all the others." Rook's effusiveness died away, and they didn't look at him. Solas' heart ached. What he had done, what he almost went through with, would have changed it all forever.
Some nights he still wished he had succeeded. But when the Evanuris had forced their way through his ritual in his distraction… they were lucky to have relocated the dagger. Else things would have been much, much worse. It would have been simpler, had he not been weak. Hadn't hesitated, let his plan falter.
If not for Varric.
Some nights, he wondered if he was a fool after all. A coward. The weight of duty had been too much, and now all of Thedas, all of his old friends, would suffer in an entirely new way for his failure.
Solas worked his jaw, the warmth of the churro seeping into his palms as he tried not to lose focus on the path beneath his feet. It didn't take long, making their way back to the Diamond, and Rook's ascension to the balcony and its topiaries was heralded by the weight sloughing off their shoulders as the three fledglings, (the smallest boy was dozing on Ezmerie's shoulder, while she dealt cards between herself and her older companion), shook themselves with a riotous cheer.
"Alright alright, here you go," Rook laughed, passing them each a churro. "As promised."
"You're the best, Rook!" The smaller elven boy cried, taking his with both hands. Ezmerie rolled her eyes, laughing as she snatched her pastry from the taller boy who had taken both from Rook.
"I don't think so, cabrón."
The boy snickered, flicking his bangs out of his eyes as he tore into his own pastry, speaking with his mouth full. "Thanks, grajo."
"Can I ask what that means? Ciro called me that today." Rook sank down beside them with a groan, resting their back against the balcony rail. Solas waited off to one side, unsure where to settle. It did not seem appropriate to intrude.
"Well, you're not a Crow," the boy explained, wiping crumbs of sugar from his mouth with his thumb. "But you're a grajo!"
"A what?" Rook asked again, incredulous and smiling.
"A jackdaw," Ezmerie huffed, exasperated. "A rook."
"Oh! Oh, I like that! Does that mean I get a feather cape?"
"No!" The trio protested, dissolving into giggles over their dessert.
"But I'm in the club, right?"
"It is not a club," Ezmerie growled.
Rook chuckled and nodded sagely. "I know, I'm sorry. Just ruffling you."
"Like feathers," the smaller boy giggled to himself. His elder companion scoffed and cuffed him halfheartedly across the back of the head. "Matteo!"
"No no, Matteo gets it," Rook insisted, beaming as they shut their eyes.
"Ay, don't rest here!" Ezmerie barked. "Easy way to get poisoned if you're alone. Or worse."
Rook peeled open one eye. "I'm not alone. I've got three Crows watching my back."
Matteo beamed, and the older boy snorted, "And who is that?"
Rook lolled their head wearily to look at Solas. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Matteo furrowed his brow. "…Is he very important?"
"Yes, unfortunately." Rook smiled a little at Solas, who regarded them, nonplussed.
"Does he ever smile?" Ezmerie scoffed.
"No. He's no fun at all."
"He did skip the zipline," the elder boy remarked.
"Yeah!" Matteo said, sounding affronted as the furrow in his brows only deepened. "You're not really supposed to skip the zipline."
At that, Solas' lips quirked and he sank down to sit crosslegged across from Rook and the children. "If I fell, I fear I'd be too embarrassed to show my face in your city again."
Ezmerie grinned wickedly, and Matteo started to smile again. "Is it true then? Mages can't grow their biceps?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Matteo, look at him!" The elder boy scoffed, gesturing with an open palm at Solas' broad shoulders. "Who told you that?"
"Chance."
"Ugh! You know Chance is a boastful liar and he is jealous of all mages." Ezmerie wrinkled her nose.
Rook laughed aloud. Solas smiled and tore off a small piece of his churro, blowing on it before eating cautiously. He continued to eat quietly as Matteo began to pepper him with questions.
"You're not Dalish, are you? But you have really long ears. Sorry, that's not rude is it? I don't mean to be rude. You just look so… different. Like, striking. Like a painting! And you're really tall, for an elf. Is that unusual?"
Solas inclined his head to the boy, chewing thoughtfully. He swallowed. "I am not Dalish."
"He does kind of look… marble-y," the older boy agreed, tipping his head to one side. "Very handsome. Not an easy mark, he guards his flank when he walks."
"Ooh! And he favors his left hand, you could see it from the way he holds the churro. It's stronger. I wonder… But he's not carrying a staff," Ezmerie mused.
"What's your name, mister?" Matteo asked.
"I am called Solas."
"How long have you been travelling with Rook?" The older boy queried.
"About… two months now."
Rook nodded, letting their eyes fall closed.
"Do you like it? Are you a hero, like they are?" Matteo asked.
"…No. I am not a hero."
"You sound like such a child. This is not a fairytale," Ezmerie scoffed.
Matteo sagged a little, scowling. "I know that! But Rook chased off that dragon and that's what everyone's been whispering about—"
"I'm just a Veil Jumper, Matteo," Rook hummed, smothering a yawn. "I have a lot of help, and I was happy to do it."
"Yes but—"
"What do you do then? Mercenary work?" The older boy interrupted, studying Solas curiously.
Solas raised an eyebrow, and waited a beat before answering. "Perhaps. In the past, something similar."
"I knew it." Satisfied, he sat back on his haunches and polished off his churro.
Rook snorted.
Ezmerie was watching the mage keenly, unconvinced. "You seem to know an awful lot about it, Rook… You two together or something?"
Rook blinked their eyes open rapidly to regard the girl with open horror. Ezmerie grinned. "What?"
"You did not just say that."
"Say what?"
Solas scoffed. "Rook and I are colleagues at best."
"'At best,'" Rook mocked in a comically deep voice, rolling their eyes skyward. "Connard."
"Rook. I spent time enough in Orlais to know what that means."
"Good! Maker preserve me." Rook shuddered. "Ezzie, just because two people travel together—"
"I know. And you've totally got it bad for the First Talon's grandson."
"Ezmerie!"
"What? No way, really?" Matteo beamed, sitting up.
"No! I mean— no!" Rook, affronted, smacked the girl's arm with their churro paper.
"That's what Teia said!"
"Well Teia shouldn't make weird hypotheses!" Rook defended, cheeks aflame. "I will speak to her about it!"
"Sure you will." Ezmerie, eyes twinkling, turned back to her churro.
"Why are you talking to Teia? Or do you just have too much free time in the Diamond?"
Ezmerie shrugged. Rook scoffed lightly, rubbing the bridge of their nose as they clambered to their feet with a groan. "Alright, I've had enough of you."
"Aww," Matteo mourned as his older companion protested, drumming his fingertips on his knees: "No, don't go! Who will lose this card game?"
"Yes, you're very clever." Rook hid a smile and resettled their basket on their arm with a stretch. "Shall I tell the First Talon's grandson that you all say hello?"
"Yes, please," Matteo said, beaming.
Ezzie shrugged again. "Not my House."
"You can still say something! It's not like House Dellamorte is overflowing, exactly," the older boy scoffed.
Rook leveled him with a cool glance, even as Ezmerie smacked the back of his head with an open palm. "Pendejo."
"Yes, thank you," Rook sighed, striding away. "Goodnight, all. Stay out of trouble."
"No," Ezmerie refused as the older boy grumbled and rubbed the back of his head gingerly.
Matteo gave a cheerful little wave. "Buenas noches, Rook! It was nice to meet you, Solas."
"And you." Solas bowed his head slightly as he got to his feet to follow Rook back to the eluvian.
"Kids," Rook dismissed ununeasily, once they were out of earshot, trying to laugh as they rubbed the back of their neck.
Solas chuckled.
"Oh, Andraste save us- was that a laugh?" Rook grinned at him. "I had not imagined you would enjoy the company of children."
The echo of his earlier observation stirred something in his chest, and he did not look at them as he pushed his way through the eluvian, into the embrace of the Crossroads.
****
Anyhow, good evening I love you guys! Thank you @woundedsoul12 for this game and the awesome prompts! Hoping to get back into the swing of Thursdays sometime soon!
Tagging beloveds, in case you are interested. As always, no pressure!
