#post-game

Started by @hedwigoprah <3

Pernicious | August 11 Adjective • Causing much harm in a subtle way. • Causing death or injury; deadly.

A bit of post game silliness. 😁This one is @davrinsleftpectoral and @blackwall-my-tiny-husband 's fault lol. From the talk of how scary Solas!Amara is with the NPRook mod and this back and forth:

Dorian managed to keep a straight face as they exited the Circle’s council chamber which, given the circumstances, was an incredible show of restraint and maturity.

Amara had her lips pressed tightly together, her grip on his arm light as an afterthought as she clearly replayed the meeting in her head. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she muttered, sounding genuinely distressed.

Dorian hummed, smiling slightly. “And deny me the spectacle of watching you verbally eviscerate those backwards blowhards from the South? What a tragedy that would have been!” Pausing, he turned to look directly at her, putting on the best Imperial Archon deadpan look he could conjure. “Though I will admit some minor discomfort over one part of your otherwise delightful tirade.”

Amara sighed. “The part about Archmage Verrin’s dissertation. It was a low blow, I shouldn't have -”

Dorian shook his head. “Oh, not that. His data was hideously flawed and you were right to say so.” Dorian patted her hand, sliding back into the charmingly avuncular attitude he normally adopted around Amara. “No, my dear - I couldn't help but notice, when you are channeling righteous anger your expression is a perfect match for your Father's best ‘allow me to smugly condescend to you, the brainless masses ’ glower. Most pernicious, really, to unleash that countenance on a man unawares.”

Amara nearly tripped over her feet, mouth agape, before narrowing her eyes and glaring at him, her anxious rehashing of losing her temper during the meeting clearly cast aside in the face of this fresh horror.

Dorian grinned. “Yes - that’s the face! Transports me right back to Skyhold. Utterly uncanny.”

“Uncanny? That I look like my Father?” she asked dryly.

“No, that you look like your Mother and sometimes your Father just appears - like an obnoxious apparition.”

Dorian watched as amusement and annoyance fought for dominance on her face, knowing perfectly well that both masked the delight Amara had when anyone commented on her connection with the parents she had spent so long without. 

She managed to surprise him by turning thoughtful, smiling sweetly. “Well, in light of this revelation I might have to reschedule our dinner plans. Clearly I need to spend the evening with a mirror, training my face to avoid smug condescension lest I cause you further distress,” she said.

Dorian laughed. “Nonsense! I will tolerate it in exchange for seeing what dining establishment here in Cumberland met your husband’s exacting standards. Besides, who else are you going to debrief with about how poorly Archmage Gilara is hiding her affair with her new assistant?”

Amara grinned. “I was shocked they still had their robes on by the end of the meeting. Very well, if you are sure seeing the Dread Wolf’s expressions cross my face won’t put you off your food -”

“Never,” Dorian said, silently congratulating himself on successfully distracting his friend as she led them into the city.

(No pressure/saying hi tags to @kogarashi-art @seaglassmelody @davrinsleftpectoral @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @jukkaricity @serialsforbellara @kogarashi-art @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai @selennes @mythals-whore @booksncatsworld @maagisterpavus @lycheecatee @handsignals @hedwigoprah @sunny374940 @sorcerousadventurer @sandcastlekings @jenn2d2 @romancingtropes @necromanticsoul @pixiedurango @woundedsoul12 @flowersforthemachines )

-Bronzie

Well, that took me way too long to get to, but I needed a breather as far as writing went today. Thanks for the prompt, @bronzeagelove!

I'll admit, it's 85° F (29° C) out today, so while I may be wishing for cooler weather it's not happening anytime soon. But the winter writing prompts by @jenn2d2 don't have to be winter-exclusive, right? And I'm sure it's cooler weather somewhere out there.

So here we go. #13: Warm and Cozy, 798 words, set after the end of the game.

“Have I m-m-mentioned,” Saadrah mumbled through chattering teeth as Lucanis opened the door to the room he’d rented, “that I hate Venat-t-tori?” A wave of warmth rolled over her from the room beyond, and her shaking legs nearly collapsed underneath her at just how good it felt. Only Lucanis slipping quickly under her arm to support her kept her as upright as his shorter stature could manage.

“Blood-freezing spells will do that to you,” he murmured with a grunt. His eyes flared purple briefly, Spite lending his strength, and the two of them helped Saadrah stagger into the warmth of the room.

No, suite, Saadrah noticed. Lucanis had rented them a suite.

Started by @woundedsoul12 Hosted by @officialnostradamus

This is where the worlds collide, forever/The stars should point you home but who knows where you are? -Worlds Collide - Marianas Trench

The pool was mirror still. A glassy expanse of stars, as if the Rivaini sky had descended to lay upon the sand and admire itself. Rook felt dizzy as she contemplated stepping into that infinity. Disturbing it. Bringing the anxious awful likely literal manifestations of her fears into this place. She would rather walk the raw Fade than step into the water. Demons had never managed to drown her in the Fade.

Spite stepped in front of her, eyes narrow. “Fear. Old echoes of being hunted. Shadows in your eyes and water in your lungs. Need to learn. You promised.”

“Spite,” Lucanis said sharply from somewhere behind her. “Give her a moment.”

Rook tore her eyes away from her demon, scanning the star speckled darkness for the others it seemed inevitable would manifest. She felt cold, in spite of the lingering heat still radiating from the sand. Stripped in a way that had nothing to do with the discarded pile of clothing somewhere behind them. Not here and far too present, drowning in the memory of drowning. But whatever Spite was doing seemed to be working. The darkness remained quiet and undisturbed. 

“Fear,” Spite muttered. “Anxiety. Despair and Pain. They circle, they do not dare approach. I will tear them apart if they come closer.”

Lucanis stepped in front of her, calm as the surface of the pool. “Do you still want to do this, Rook?” he asked quietly.

He meant swimming, which no - no she absolutely did not. But she did want the life they were planning together. Which meant Treviso and a city of canals and eyes that would be looking for potential weaknesses in the First Talon's partner and if she couldn't learn to be comfortable around the water here - in a quiet natural pool full of stars that Taash and the other Lords had recommended for learning to swim, with a literal demon acting as a guard against his brethren and the man she loved at her side - then she would never be comfortable in her new home.

“Nightmare,” Spite hissed. “Panic. Memory. Dare them to try.”

Closing her eyes, Rook reached for Lucanis, nodding, her voice caught in her throat. Lucanis understood, taking her hand and slowly guiding her into the water. The first touch was jarringly chill, toes breaking the surface, sending a shiver up her limbs and no doubt disrupting the perfect field of false stars. But Lucanis’ hand in hers was warm and steady and this wasn't the craziest thing they had attempted together, not by a long shot. Rook pushed back at her panic and the rocks beneath her feet and slid fully into the water and into Lucanis’ waiting arms. She - they - would see this through.

“Trust.” Spite said, grudging. “Hope. Love. They can stay. For now.”

#14 winter sports - with Saadrah and Lucanis please. ☺️

Thanks for the prompt, @serialsforbellara! It's a writing day, and that means a warmup! I don't have any "winter sports" AUs for these two, so hopefully a game of parkour-tag in the snow counts, because that's what I wrote. ;)

This is set sometime after the end of the game. Lucanis and Saadrah are in some southern city or other during the winter for a Crow contract that Lucanis has taken on personally, and this time he's decided to bring her along with him.

And hey, this could double as an early @rookanis-week piece (doesn't directly fit any of the prompts other than "free day," and I've got stuff planned for all the days anyway, so consider this a bonus).

799 words of Rookanis fun below the divider.

Lucanis’s foot slid against a nearly-invisible patch of ice on the sloped shingles, and he grunted as he lost his balance and hit the lip of the roof with his chest. Gloved hands braced against the eaves. His boot braced on the lintel of a window. Somewhere ahead and slightly above him, he heard Saadrah’s bright laugh.

A knot of warmth bloomed in his chest at the sound, like it always did.

Rook. Makes fun. Spite hissed over his shoulder, in his ear, the back of his head. And yet you smile.

A/N: Everyone is free to enjoy this story in their own way. However, for a better experience, I recommend listening to "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron or "Memory 3" while you're reading. Here are the links to the songs:

The night we met

Memorie 3

A blinding white light enveloped them as a shelter. Slowly, their figures transformed drastically, regaining their original essence from before the events. Though with slight modifications: Lord Blumiere retained the white robes characteristic of his counterpart; Lady Timpani sported a butterfly ribbon and a shorter haircut.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed, whether they were in some kind of limbo, or if they had already joined Grambi.

The soft murmur of the wind was what finally woke them.

Timpani opened her eyes, shielding them from the relentless sunlight with one hand. Extending it, she blinked in disbelief, turning it and pulling it toward her several times, trying to determine if it had always been a part of her.

Then, she reacted and turned to the body lying beside her and shook it a few times, calling him by his name.

Lord's eyelids slowly opened, his pupils behind his monocle adjusting clearly to the new day's enlightenment.

They stood abruptly and took each other's hands. Blumiere stroked her right cheek, unable to tear his gaze from his loved one's ineffable eyes. Tippi, or rather Timpani, observed her beloved with a sad smile at his features she had long forgotten; now, Blumiere bore more scars than she was able to remember and a painful, harder gaze, cooled by the time they had spent separated.

They both sighed in unison, a mixture of nostalgia and disbelief in their gestures.

Blumiere took her in his arms. They admired the sweet panorama that surrounded them. Until Tippi seemed to shrink even further in his embrace and buried her face in Blumiere's chest, inhaling his scent of both distant promises and broken memories.

“Take me back to the night we met,” she whispered so softly that only he heard her. 

She snuggled closer to his chest, clinging to his embrace with all of her strength. He didn't realize the lump in her throat or the anxiety that jailed her respiration.

He was still lost in her arms, unable to believe that they had finally made it. That despite life's cruel injustices and turns, they had found each other again; hanging on to that love, though a bit battered, still intact and as vibrant as ever, as if they had never been apart.

The former count succumbed to the overwhelming weight of love. Surrendering, he rested his head on hers. Their bosoms heaved with ragged breath. He decided to focus on the two of them, on nothing else. Truly, nothing else mattered anymore.

Silently, they both shed tears, with bitterness, sadness, and relief. Their chests contracted and expanded with difficulty. A couple of uncontrollable sobs were stifled by the air in their lungs.

Finally, they couldn't resist any longer and fell to their knees, one facing the other. They pressed their foreheads together, closing their eyes tightly, afraid to open them and have that fragile moment vanish, as it had before. But it didn't; their faces trembled with repressed emotions that now erupted.

Their pulses synchronized. Seconds, minutes, hours ceased to exist for them. They only needed… an instant.

He kissed her head repeatedly, then moved down to her face, erasing all traces of her fleeting loneliness and the sadness that had consumed her. Soft giggles escaped her lips beneath her gentle breath. He had missed that melody so much, her notes so perfect for him.

“Perhaps… I can take you there,” he murmured, turning his rough body, longing with all his might to look the woman of his dreams directly in the eyes. “Just… close your eyes and listen to the sound of the wind.”

She obeyed. Her slow breaths regularized, and she inhaled the beautiful redolence of freedom, that unique sentiment that had accompanied their love since eternity.

They looked up at the sky. White clouds, a blue sky. Suddenly, a piano melody, accompanied by the dazzling ticking of a clock, resonated in their ears. The atmosphere remained feverish, magical, and silent, but the melody echoed deep within their minds.

"I love you," they confessed in complete stillness, their lips still closed, but the words flowed naturally from their hearts; born from the love they had worked so hard to preserve.

Gradually, she leaned on his shoulder. Words were unnecessary. Neither of them knew for certain if they would still be alive the next day.

All they would do was savor the silence, the stillness, the company, that renewed glow in their hearts… a pure and real peace.

In the embodiment of the present, the past, and their future.

Together.