The infamous “Slow. Deep.” Scene. You all know what I’m talking about.
Like the second Emmrich realizes that yes, the daring adventuring hottie IS into him, a switch flips. And yes, it’s a horny one, and he wants to impress them but it’s also like. He gets really vulnerable with Rook? Tells them all these poetic things about his connection to the dead and what it means to him? A vulnerable/horny one-two combo?
And THEN he’s like “yeah so. I’d be into this if you’re into this,” after he’s just shown Rook one of the most beautiful and inspiring things they’ve ever EXPERIENCED??? Like. Come ONNNN. How was I gonna romance anyone else after that???
Emmrich was somewhat surprised to find that he was still able to cry as a lich.
After years of observing the lich lords, wise and solemn and seemingly removed from the concerns of mortals, he had assumed he might feel similar. Perhaps a great enlightenment would come over him, and he would find a sense of calm and peace, emotions settling into a still lake within.
Instead, he found his experience with lichdom to be quite the opposite. Without the distractions of a flesh and blood body, he was nothing but emotion. He felt everything so keenly.
What broke him that day wasn’t some great moment of pain and tragedy. It was Rook, reaching up to stroke his cheekbone. There was no hesitation, not a hint of fear or disgust. They touched his skull with all the love and tenderness they had ever shown him when he was made of flesh. They called him ‘sweetheart.’
Emmrich was completely undone.
A noise lurched out of him that he didn’t immediately recognize as a sob.
Rook was frowning, concerned, worried. Their hands had moved from his face to his arms, pulling him towards the couch and murmuring confused words of comfort that Emmrich simply couldn’t process at the moment. There was only emotion, only the rush of relief and love and guilt and fear and oh, Rook still loves him. Even as he is now, Rook loves him. They promised they would, but he had still braced himself, because how could he ask them to stay? How could he expect them to want him now? But they do, they do, they love him. He collapsed against Rook onto the couch, his bandaged hands gripping at their shirt to anchor them in place.
He kept pulling in great breaths that turned into heaving sobs and hiccups, which was perhaps the strangest part of this emotional outburst. He didn’t have lungs! There was nothing inside his ribcage at all. And yet, his body seemed determined to go through the traditional motions of crying. He might have called it ‘muscle memory,’ but without any muscles, that term did not feel appropriate.
He was vaguely aware that this reaction was overblown and was probably alarming to Rook, but he found himself quite unable to stop, or even rein the intensity of his outburst back in. As a mortal, he could have taken deep breaths to calm himself, pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off tears, gulped down a lump in his throat. He didn’t know how to make himself stop now, and was helpless to do anything but cling to Rook until the storm had run its course over him.
It was a strange feeling too, as the emotions began to ebb. There were few of the usual side effects of a crying fit. No headache, no nasal congestion, no red and puffy eyes. There was only a sense of exhaustion, and a fogginess in his mind. He leaned into Rook and let himself drift as he calmed, watching the slowing tears drip down into his lap.
But they weren’t tears at all, were they? Not normal mortal tears, at any rate. They seemed slightly more viscous, a bit slow to drip out of his eyes and down his face. But most notably, there was a very faint, brief glow as he watched them fall, vanishing immediately as they soaked into his trousers.
“Rook, my love,” Emmrich croaked quietly, “please fetch me that vial on the table. I must collect a sample.”
“A sample? Of what?” Rook asked, leaning just far enough to grab the vial without taking away their arm that was still curled around Emmrich protectively. And then they burst out laughing when he held the vial beneath his still leaking eye sockets.
“These aren’t simple saltwater tears,” Emmrich insisted primly. “I would be remiss to let the opportunity to study them pass me by.”
“Now I know you’re feeling better,” Rook said with a fond chuckle, and pressed a kiss to his jaw.
Emmrich managed to not lapse into another fit of sobbing. It was a start.
This picture from the Dragon Age The Veilguard story board is cracking me up because this is exactly how I imagine my Rook looked when Emmrich told her about his aspirations of lichdom
let's be clear, Emmrich is FULLY aware that rook's flirting with him. it's not that he doesn't understand or realize it, it's that he doesn't think rook's actually into him. that they're expressing a genuine interest. it's all in good fun, trading flattery and compliments back and forth, but he doesn't expect it to truly go anywhere.
this right here?
this is the first time he realizes they could be serious. the first time i think he lets himself entertain the idea that maybe they aren't just being charming. maybe they aren't just flattering him. maybe there's a chance they could actually want something more, and with him.
the man isn't oblivious. he knows rook is flirting, or at least flattering him. it just takes a minute for the sincerity to sink in.
Thought I make a master post with all my Emmrook sketches so far for all the lovely new followers, but turns out I can only include 30 images and I have way more than that :’D
edit: I got flagged so I removed all explicit content, so… those can be checked on Patreon🤍
Rook: So going outdoors is still… fun, for a lich?
Emmrich: Nature remains cloaked in all its glory. Though the elements pose less of a worry.
Harding: Exactly! You're a skeleton under your magic. Why are you even bringing different clothes?
Emmrich: My dear Harding, a gentleman should always look presentable.
Harding: (Exasperated noise) To who? The squirrels?
Emmrich: That should be "to whom."
Harding: I am going to stab you with an arrow.
Emmrich: I really have looked forward to you showing me more of your home, Harding.
Harding: Me, too. Oh! Are you going to be a lich in the woods?
Emmrich: If it's not an inconvenience. Can we still have a campfire?
Harding: We have to have a campfire. And spooky stories.
Emmrich: Wonderful! I'll copy some passages from my diaries.
Check out the tag for more useless facts: #useless davg fact of the day!
How much I like to think about dark and gloomy things lying under his sweetness.
(And those things don’t make him worse, these make him more complex, alive and interesting).
I’ve never, actually, paid real attention to the thought that Johanna’s skull didn’t come out of nowhere. It was connected to the rest of her body, you know.
Sooo, who came back to the Blackthorne Manor for corpse? Who dissected it? Who prepared and polished the skull?
We all know the answer, don’t we)
I adore Emmrich the way he is, but I’m losing my breath when I remember what is he capable of.
And I don’t put any of Rooks here on purpose. If you agree with my point of view, you are welcome to imagine any of yours here, beyond the frames). If not - thanks for watching anyway^^
If I was Emmrich Volkarin and I had spent thirty-five years of my life watching everyone around me get married and have babies I would be a little crazy too. If I was a fifty-two year old serial monogamist with a heart full of longing, I too would get a little weird about it when a Young Adventurer started showing interest in me. If I was fifty-two, a former orphan who'd spent a lonely childhood dreaming of family and had given up hope of ever having a wedding or meeting my children, only for someone beautiful and brave to start staring at me with big wet cow eyes and tell me I looked GOOD? I might do something a little insane like introduce them to my dead parents. And then if they for some weird reason found the whole Dead Parent thing charming I would absolutely neck on them in a cemetery. And yeah that's probably a lot of people's definition of moving too fast but ANYTHING looks like moving too fast if you've been standing still for thirty-five years. In conclusion, Emmrich Volkarin is guilty of horny crimes but they were justified and no jury would ever convict him.
So @flowersforthemachines already discovered that Bellara can do a little happy dance after she hits an enemy. Well, did you know that Harding sometimes, not always, cheers after successfully using her abilities to move a resonant stone?
Thinking of a scenario where Rook, after finally passing out after Weisshaupt, gets woken up by someone poking them. They blink, and find inches from their face, a skull with gleaming emerald eyes.
After a bit of panicked commotion, (perhaps the MW Rook would be, 'Oh hey buddy, what's up? You know you can't do that to sleeping people, right?'), they realize something is wrong /get dragged to Emmrich's room.
That's where they find the Professor curled up in a ball beside his bed, pale and clammy, his breath coming in sharp gasps. And that's when they realize he's having a panic attack, no doubt caused by the near death experience at Weisshaupt.
So, they do what they can to help him. Talking to him. Reasurring him. Helping him breathe. Distracting him with inane small talk. Praising him for his bravery during what was probably one of the most terrifying times of his life.
Eventually, they ask to touch him, and he numbly nods and they pull his hand to touch their chest, to feel their heartbeat, while they mirror the action with their hand on his chest.
And slowly, the panic ebbs away, and Emmrich allows them to help him get back to bed. They reassure him yet again that they'll remain nearby, and he eventually he slips back into dreamless slumber.
He wakes up hours later, refreshed, but with a strange sensation that something happened that night, something that was unpleasant? Perhaps a nightmare?
That's when he finds Rook sitting at the foot of his bed, passed out. And one of the blankets Manfred has stitched is covering them.
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