This is purely a Dragon Age blog + a lot of thoughts about my OC Veryl Ingllevar:)
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I write for the MournWatch!Rook x Emmrich ship and for Veryl x Jericho (Rook/Rook).
Check out the Bluebird Moon Collection master post for all of the latest on Vericho
You can find all of my works on my fic master post, there's a little something for everyone to enjoy :)
More about Veryl:
Posts • A basic Introduction • Aesthetic •Rook Character sheet • Veryl Characterization cheat sheet • Rook Questionnaire • Rook Character Development • Veryl as a Companion • Veryl's Sliders pt1 & pt2 • Mourn Watch Oath
Artist L to R: @CatCatButter, @SeaGlassMelody, @GaySpacePiratesss, SeaGlassMelody again 😘, @Gwinaesfer, @dragonagehyperfixationwoo, @tinyshoopuf, @blackwall-my-tiny-husband, and @sorcerousadventurer
I try to stay regularly involved in the DA community; I love reblogging other people's works and supporting any way I can. Tags, asks, games, I'm down just @ me and I'll do my best to respond.
Anywho, it's crazy out there, I hope you enjoy this peaceful space :)
Biblically accurate Veryl by Blackwall-my-tiny-husband
There are two steps to this madness. Color the words that most resonate with your Rook. Count where you collected most words, and then search for the corresponding Evanuris codex and add it to the post! Add a pic of your lovely Rook as well (if you want). Have fun and please spread the tag, of course! ♥️
I'm glad this tag is going around again, I missed it the first time and this sat in my drafts for forever. Thank you for the tags @zennihilation @sandcastlekings @kogarashi-art @sorcerousadventurer
Don't know how I feel about her being so similar to Solas :/
Falon’din (17)
black waters, myrrh, dark soil, hushed sounds, white, dark side of the moon, rebellion, vanity, the fade, journeys, shadows and reflections, illusions and deep knowledge, arcane, the dark arts, immortality by looking at the abyss, owl calls through the darkness, mania, desire to be admired, the Undertaker's hands, Nightshades, easily corrupted, deep emotions, ambition and competition, onyx
Fen’harel (17)
the wolf moon, pride and vulnerability, wisdom and mania, sharp teeth, furs and leathers, rebels and isolationists, planet Pluto, the great change, uproot, unearth, fixations and deep knowledge, paradoxical subjectivity, hypocrisy, eyes that see it all, silent judgement, adaptability, revenge, blind purpose, grey morality, unfulfilled purpose, ether and dreams, mournful howls, thwarted purpose, thwarted heart, Loki archetype, well laid plans that fail, sharp tongue, sharp minds
Ghilan'nain (15)
devotion, mystery, fearless, experimental, direction and motivation, medical knowledge, objective morals, orchids and hallas, love for animals, deeper understanding, emotional and sensitive, delicate, persuaded by loved ones, blurred lines, hyper focus, cruelty, ruthless, childish, shrewdness, flesh, blood and bones, creator, perfector, blood garnets and trembling sinews
Andruil (14)
the hunter's moon, fur, iron, anger, spilled blood, dense woods, swamps and dark lakes, the beating of hooves, autumn rains, moose racks, thick moss, the thrill of the hunt, courage, determination, sensual desires, will to possess, purpose, strength and clarity, bluntness, blind to nuance, restless, victory through blunt force, physical prowess and flexed muscles, strained bows, blood-red
June (11)
creation and invention, bronze and quartz, puzzles and labyrinths, lyrium, leather and wood, smoldering embers, anvils, geometric shapes, innovation, mastery, desire for progress, technology, high tech, logic, hard work, diligence, bolts and oil, welding sparkles, practical outfits, protective gear, sharp blades, mechanic whirring, sharp logic, discovery, technical drawings, teamwork
Mythal (11)
maiden-mother-crone, diplomacy, motherly instincts, supportive, extinguishing fires, deeper meanings, idealism, resilience, survival, fine leathers and fine silks, silver filigree, raven feathers, driftwood, the iris flower, overwhelming yet restrained power, the dark moon, ultramarine fire, double meanings - double desires, hope, the Hawthorne, undeterred belief in oneself, veiled yearning for power
Dirthamen (9)
ravens and bears, hunger for knowledge, whispers, mercury, thick fog through pine forests, North, mountains, blacks and purples, books and libraries, deep blue ink, matters and facts, initiation through knowledge, masters and disciples, order and discipline, loyalty, delve deep, power through knowledge, know-it-all, teacher, curiosity
Elgar’nan (9)
the black sun - the blood moon, Patriarch archetype, possessive protection, authoritarian, hunger for power, relentless yet sometimes passive, subjective, strategic, leader, restrained emotions, tradition, heavy leathers and heavy golds, envy and desire, retribution, a fiery temper, conditional generosity, ancient ideals, consuming fire, thorny roses, wings of gold, birds of prey, domination, manipulation and temptation, obsessive, abundance
Sylaise (5)
harvest moon, flowers and herbs, warm bread and home, everlasting fires, tales around the hearth, healer and protector, hiraeth, the call of the home, beauty and warmth, respite and refuge, potions and balms, intoxicating scents, flower crowns and white gowns, sensuality, fertility, a large family, deep devotion to a partner, hidden devastating power, high goals, underestimated yet beloved, glory and creation, dreams come true, pink gold and apple flowers, sun rays filtered through leaves
I've gotten to the point in character creation where I'm taking personality quizzes like Veryl would. So far she's an ESFP-T and Enneagram 8.
brb I'm about to go find out what Disney princess she is
Edit: it was Mulan. It was always going to be Mulan.
Also she doesn’t have a birthday but gives off strong Gemini vibes maybe?
Written with @sandcastlekings 💖
Sabi, her clinic and it's overly helpful spirits belong to @seaglassmelody
This fic comes after Held. You can read the rest of the Bluebird Moon fic collection here.
Available on AO3 | 4.3k | M (for language)
"Okay, okay, I gotcha." Veryl caught Jericho as he fell back, the onslaught had been extensive. She watched as the last attacker tucked tail and ran, she hated to let them go but their final offense left her no choice. Jericho leaned heavily into her and already looked like he was fading out. Whatever spell that bastard had thrown in at the last second was draining him fast. It was dirty and cheap, but she couldn't argue it's effectiveness when it rendered both of them incapable of pursuit.
He clutched at her arm, trying to keep his balance as he swayed on his feet. Blood trickled from his forehead from the large man that had slammed into him, aiming for his face with a knife. She had her own lacerations, but the way his skin paled had her ignoring the ache in her ribs.
Veryl grunted as he collapsed even further against her, "Fuck, alright, so what we're not gonna do is pass out, you hear me, Jer?"
Jericho opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a weak "mmhm." He managed a small nod of understanding instead.
She gave another look around the warehouse yard, the prickle of something in the air. It still wasn't safe, but with Jericho out of commission, they couldn't stay here. Both the hideout and the Mug were too far out of the way, her safe house was on the other side of town. That left one possible option.
Vigilance was going to give her an ear full.
"Yes, I know, I promise I won't break anything." Veryl pleaded with the spirit to let her pass. She'd managed to pick the lock without the pin breaking more than twice, all while holding Jericho upright. As much as being draped across her back while she hunched over to get close to the lock, could be considered upright.
Sabriel's clinic was a torturous walk from the warehouse district. They'd had to stop a few times so Jericho could rest and try to regain what little strength he could. Half way through he started clutching at his shoulder and Veryl feared what they'd find under his clothes. The spell seemed to be working overtime to keep him in the weakest possible state, and it would ensure he'd stay that way.
He was sweating profusely and some unsuspecting store owner was not going to appreciate the stomach contents they'd had to leave in their wake.
Veryl had banged on the door only for the spirit to appear and inform her that Sabriel was away at the moment, that she would return in a few days time. Veryl surmised it was time for her monthly trip out of the city to gather herbs.
Vigilance still had yet to budge despite her promise. It probably had something to do with the fact that she had broken a flower pot the last time she was here, which resulted in a very involved mess. Perhaps that made her a bit of a liar.
Jericho attempted to speak to the spirit, his words coming out as more of a muttered groan than anything intelligible. Veryl was pretty sure she caught the words "please", "won't let her break" and "lie down" somewhere in the jumbled mess.
Though it didn't seemed pleased, Vigilance finally stood aside and allowed them into the space. She really had to hand it to Sabriel, she knew how to pick her guard dogs. If it wasn't for the fact that Veryl was here often enough to be familiar, this entire endeavor would have been futile. Never had she been so thankful for her penchant for injury and mishap.
She did her best to haul Jer into the small room and onto a cot, his feet dragging across the pristine floors and tracking in mud from the outside world. She barely got him across the bed before her breath grew so labored it hurt. It had to be all the time she spent reading at home and drinking late into the night.
Pain under control for a moment, she righted Jericho on the cot and took stock of her patient. The blood on his forehead had lessened but still required attention. He looked clammy and his eyes were unfocused as he blinked up at her between long periods of them being shut. Maker, it had been a while since she'd taken care of anything other than physical injuries. It was time to pull out the old Mortalitasi Mage protection handbook and get to work.
Determined, she rooted through the cupboards, looking for supplies. It wasn't difficult, organized and neat as Sabriel was, everything was labeled and easy to read. It was almost a comfort to see Nevarran script after so long. There was something about the punchiness of her home language that made her a little wistful to be staring at medical products in a clinic. She sighed.
It was best not to ruminate. She grabbed what she needed and closed the cupboards behind her.
Returning to the cot, she dropped the supplies on the small bedside table and gingerly perched on the side of the bed.
"Jer?" She rubbed Jericho's chest, trying to get his attention. The thick robes he wore would hide injuries well, it was probably best they be removed. "Can you look at me?"
His head lolled to the side on the pillow, his eyes barely opening to acknowledge her. But he had heard her, so she took it as a decent, if not just okay, sign. She explained that she'd need his help removing his outer robes and together they worked to extricate him from them.
Veryl had encountered soup with more obedient noodles than this man and his appendages.
Meanwhile, Compassion had joined Vigilance as it stood watch over the scene that unfolded in the little private clinic. Compassion tried to offer helpful advice, but Veryl had little patience for unwinding their lyrical words. Vigilance kept up obvious commentary for the whole room. Perhaps it was because of all her years of working close to spirits that demystified their existence, but Veryl almost felt a little bad being annoyed with them. Almost.
She managed to escape a few black eyes, but they had finally wrested Jericho free of his clothing save his shirt and dignity. Vigilance had murmured it's approval when the loss of Jericho's robes revealed a dislocated shoulder, a large bruise blossoming over the muscle that could be seen even through his pale tunic. It wouldn't do to try and mend it in this state, she would need him fully conscious. She settled on a sling made out of scrap fabrics before letting him lie back.
"You've gotta pretty deep cut, on your forehead." Veryl pointed to her own to provide a location for him though she knew his glassy eyes barely registered it. "I need to clean it and get it bandaged."
She reached for the cleaning solution and the small bits of cotton.
"Take care," Compassion's voice was lilting though a warning tempered it's tone. "This one has injuries unseen, memories that play over his skin."
It no doubt achieved it's intended effect when Veryl paused and turned to look at it.
"What does that mean?" She tried to parse the words herself, but she was more concerned by the injuries part, like she might have missed something.
"This one is too aware and connects current actions to past impulses. Give him time." Vigilance tried to clarify and Veryl's eyebrows drew together as she looked from the spirits to the nearly unconscious man. She knew Jericho had been through more than he let on, but what was it that made them insist she go slow?
She knew better than to question spirits, they saw far more than she could, even if they were terrible at communicating it. Even though there was nothing more than a flutter to his lashes now, Veryl approached his face slowly, and sure enough, there was the barest flinch as she touched down. It kept the frown of concentration plastered to her face, for reasons she didn't care for.
She worked as quickly as she could as the small flame of candles became her only source of light. The deep gash was soon clean, mended, and patched to the best of her ability. Jericho had fallen into a deep sleep, after flinching a handful of times when her hands came too close to his face. The grimace in his features held a history just like Compassion had warned.
Sitting back, she examined her work, hoping she did Sabriel proud. Maybe it wouldn't even scar.
Veryl stood from the bed and stretched, working out the ache in her muscles from sitting for so long in one attitude. She dusted at her hands and ran probing fingers across her ribs, wincing when she made contact with the deeply rooted bruising she felt there.
Awareness of awareness sank into her bones in the way a spirit's acute focus did, Veryl turned to find Vigilance watching her the way only Vigilance could. She dropped her hand and turned away, intent on hiding herself behind the curtain on the far side of the room. She never really did learn how to keep secrets from spirits. Somehow, they always knew.
Jericho woke slowly, dimly aware of a throbbing pain in his shoulder. Feeling stiff, not sure of how long he'd been sleeping, he desperately wanted to turn over, but found a makeshift sling impeding his movement. He exhaled, the memory coming back to him.
He'd been hurt in the fight, and then to add insult to injury, someone had hit him with something that drained him of mana before getting away. Quin wouldn't let him hear the end of that one once he found out.
Veryl had somehow brought him here, but then the memory became hazy. He vaguely remembered her patching him up, and he reached up to touch at the bandage now carefully applied to his forehead.
He had flinched at her touch. Even as weak and out of it as he had been, he was still all too aware of the threat of hands coming near his face. An old reflex he couldn't shake. Deep down, he knew she was only trying to help, that her goal had been to heal, not harm. That knowledge, and his weakened state, were all that had kept him from pulling away from her completely.
He would need to apologize. He'd made her job harder, added to the stress she was sure to be feeling. She shouldn't have had to deal with all of this, especially with him being a less than ideal patient. She deserved an explanation, but he wasn't sure it was a subject he was up to reliving at the moment. Wincing, he realized he'd still need her help with his shoulder.
He looked around, eyes hunting for her. The small room was cluttered with medicinal plants and other helpful tools. There was movement from behind the curtain on the other side of the room as Veryl pulled it aside from her spot on another cot. She didn't seem to notice that he was awake yet, and she was tenderly rubbing at her side, a pained expression painting her features.
Softly, he broke the silence. "Ver, are you hurt?" The worry he suddenly felt was poorly disguised.
Veryl turned quickly to respond to him, her hand dropping to her lap and the pained expression tucked away. "Morning, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?" She rose from her own cot to make her way to him.
"I'm awake and my brain seems to be working again, which is nice." He winced as he rose, his shoulder once again throbbing painfully. "But I asked about you." He shot her a knowing glance.
"Just some bruising, nothing to worry about," She brushed off his concern, stepping into his space and forcing him to sit back down on the bed. "I didn't say you could get up, you're not ready to be moving yet." Her eyebrow raised in challenge.
Jericho narrowed his eyes as he eased back into bed. She could have her way, for now, but he'd be revisiting whatever injury it was she was trying to hide.
"Do you mind if I check my handiwork?" She gestured to a mirroring spot on her own face. Vigilance moved for the first time in a little while, making it's presence known to both of them. He watched Veryl's eyes cut a quick look at it before returning her attention back to him.
Nodding, Jericho braced himself, knowing her touch was imminent. He couldn't help how tense he was, and knew he was still likely to flinch. But he was determined not to pull away, to let her help.
He didn't know if it was all Mourn Watch or just her own experience, but she seemed proficient in medical practices. He watched her face tense in concentration as her hands approached slowly and removed what felt like a large bandage from his face.
"Well, it looks like you'll live to see another day. Despite their best efforts," she hummed.
Jericho watched her carefully, tense, eyes on her every move. He just managed to breathe through it, and trust her to do what she needed to do.
"All I'm gonna do is just check it and make sure nothing is going to come undone, and then I'll redress it, okay?" Tender touches and cold fingers worked along his skin. "It might be uncomfortable for a little bit, but just bear with it if you can. All I have are elfroot and butterfly stitches."
She gave him a brief glance and small smile of reassurance as she started to work in earnest.
After a few moments, Jericho started to relax, and he let his eyes drift closed as she worked. "Thank you, Ver. Sorry I haven't been the most cooperative patient." His apology was genuine, tinged with worry.
Her laugh was lighthearted, "I had this- uh" she cleared her throat, "friend, back home. You are sunshine and rainbows compared to that whiner. He once had me convinced he'd need to have his foot amputated for what turned out to be an ingrown toenail." He heard her laughter die and she cleared her throat more forcefully. "Okay, almost, good as new." Jericho chuckled at her story, more at ease now, with her distraction.
He felt her move away as she turned to start disposing of used supplies. When he opened his eyes he was surprised to find Vigilance hovering over her shoulder, pressing close. Compassion now lingered in the periphery.
Veryl turned back to him, any humor that she'd tried to comfort him with had turned serious. "So yesterday, when that big guy slammed into you? Not only did he try to slice your face open, he also knocked your shoulder out of place."
Jericho winced, the memory nothing more than a vague blur, but the lingering pain in his shoulder apparent. He looked at the sling holding his arm to his side. "That explains a lot actually." With a grimace at thought of what it was going to take to fix it, he sighed. "I was really hoping it was just a bruise."
"Neither of us have been that lucky, have we?" Veryl scoffed. "So, we can wait for Sabriel to get back to her clinic in a few days time- though, I don't recommend letting it sit that long. Or I can relocate it for you."
He took a deep breath and looked up at Veryl. "Just… get it over with." He found himself bracing again, but this time, for the pain he knew he was about to experience. He told himself it would be worth it though.
Veryl stood next to him and reached for his arm, placing a firm grip on the bend of his elbow and wrist, "alright, the pain is about to get a lot worse, but it'll be over quick."
Her words introduced the searing pull to his socket and collarbone, worse than the dull ache he'd been growing used to. Knowledge guided her hands as she moved his arm away from his body.
Looking away from what was happening to his arm, Jericho hissed through clenched teeth. "Venhedis. That fucking hurts." His breathing turned heavy as he tried to withstand the pain.
"There is relief to be found where pain is sustained," Compassion whispered helpfully. Veryl shot it a look over her shoulder and huffed, going back to concentrating on correcting the joint. In just a few moments she got it into a position he hated, though she seemed pleased with it. Without much of a warning, she pressed up and back, Jericho let a startled "fuck" escape, and she was sliding the bone home into it's proper placement.
The room collectively breathed a sigh of relief. Vigilance's form visibly shuddered and moved away, Compassion hinted at a smile, and Veryl rolled her shoulders while he gave a gentle test of mobility.
"We'll need to keep you tied up for a bit and run through some therapies before you use it again, but hopefully that feels better?" There was a hope in her tone he wasn't used to hearing from her and her hand pressed softly against his bicep, like she was testing it.
Jericho smiled warmly at her. "It does feel better, thank you, Ver. How did you learn to do that anyway?" He spoke with genuine curiosity, impressed with her knowledge.
"Basic Mourn Watch training covers anatomy extensively." Veryl grinned at him, moving to collect stray bits and pieces of supplies. "And I've had to reset my own joints on occasion."
Jericho cringed in sympathy, but his smile quickly returned as he hesitantly tested his shoulder's movement again. "Well, you did a great job. I'm glad you were there." His eyes held hers with a steady gaze.
Pausing, she blinked, her hand dropping to her hip to tap her fingers. She contemplated the wall for a moment, pursing her lips and squinting her eyes. Settling on something, she looked back to him, "I'm glad it wasn't worse."
The silence lingered for a little while. Veryl puttered around the room, explaining that she needed to correct the things she'd misplaced so Sabriel would still treat her in the future. Occasionally, she'd show him an item and some Nevarran script and see if he could guess what it was. Some sort of test of his cognitive ability? He couldn't read the language but he knew what several of the supplies were.
"… I'd be more worried if you suddenly knew how to read Nevarran." She chuckled as she perched on the side of his bed. In an unexpected motion, her hand came up to test the bandage on his head and he flinched away. Eyes cutting to her with an alarmed expression, "Shit. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. The bandage- it- there was- it was coming up on the edge, I was going to fix it."
She held her hands up to let him know she meant no harm.
He sighed, willing himself to relax. She had done nothing but help him. The least he could do was not make her job harder. "Sorry…" he cringed. "Bad habit. I'll try not to do it again." His voice was barely more than a whisper, hiding a shame he didn't want to talk about. "You can fix it. I'll just… close my eyes."
"No," she sighed and moved a little closer. "Compassion warned me, I should have been more cautious. I just- you handled the relocation so well, I thought…" A light touch met his forehead, readjusting the place where the bandage had gone wayward.
"Compassion warned you?" He opened his eyes slightly to look around for the spirit. "What did they tell you? I should…" Trailing off, he closed his eyes and sighed again.
"They were extremely vague as usual, nothing specific" she reassured him. There was a gentle touch on his shoulder and she moved back to the foot of the bed, alleviating the pressure of being watched closely. "Just that some memories might dictate your reaction, even unconsciously. I'm sorry."
"It's okay… I know it's not a normal reaction. It's just… reflex. At this point. I'll get over it." Something in his voice said that he didn't really believe his own words.
She nodded, "well, I'll try to remember that the next time I have to fix your face."
He returned her nod with one of his own and then tried to find some resolve for his own reproach. He hadn't forgotten the way Veryl had held her side, or the look of pain on her face she had quickly hidden from him. His brow creased with renewed worry.
"Ver… I know you're hurt. You don't have to hide it. Let me help." Watching for her reaction, he slowly stood to move toward her, hand outstretched. "It's the least I can do. After everything."
All cordiality fled her features and her lips firmed into a line. Her eyes ducked and he found himself staring at her, no expectation of return. Vigilance flickered into existence just over her shoulder.
"Dreamer, perseverance, patience, and persistence will provide the foundation for trust. Weakness will not always win out." The comment was meant for him, but he saw the way it rankled Veryl's nerves.
"I'm sitting right here you know." She huffed at the spirit and rubbed a hand across her face.
Watching her carefully with a concerned gaze, he kept his offered hand outstretched, but didn't move any closer. "It's okay, Veryl. I won't do anything to hurt you. Please let me help." Quickly channeling his now restored mana, he let a fine layer of frost appear over his hand. "Are you in pain?"
She gave a defeated sigh, mumbling something about being beaten about the head and shoulders with kindness. "Have you ever seen a cracked rib before?" She asked as she started to lift the edge of her shirt, hesitating while she judged his reaction.
"This kind of thing happens in the Shadows all the time." With a reassuring smile he stepped just a bit closer. "I'm no healer, but I can help with pain," he motioned to his icy hand, "and other simple things like bandaging or minor cuts and bruises."
She gave him an inquisitive look, but lifted her shirt to reveal a gigantic mottled bruise that painted most of her side. "I'll let you know the next time I get a paper cut." There was the slightest defensive bite to her tone. "Whenever you're ready, doc."
Cautiously, he approached, skimming his cold hand over the bruised skin. "How's that?" He asked softly.
There was a small groaning sound that she tried to swallow against, but he saw the relief cross her features. He watched her breathing become a touch more labored, coming out her nose in steady puffs. "Yeah, uh, it's fine. You're not half bad at that."
Concentrating, he nodded. "Let me know if you want me to ease off or move or anything. You're doing great."
"Can I…?" She moved a hand down to hover over his, a silent request to move him where she needed him most.
"Go ahead. Whatever works best for you." He stilled his hand, allowing for her to take it. Veryl's hand clasped his, and moved it higher, pressing firmly against a patch of skin that was obviously raised. She hissed at the contact and gave into a wince. A small whimper escaped, and she sniffed.
"Dreamer-"
"I swear to Andraste's holy dick that if you say anything about the way I'm feeling, Sabi won't be able to find you when she gets back." Veryl threatened the spirit through gritted teeth. It promptly shuddered and moved away. "Ah, shit. I didn't- " He watched her deflate, the bravado leaving her demeanor as she leaned more heavily into his touch, seeking relief.
"It's okay, Ver. Vigilance understands." He looked up to meet her eyes. "Just focus on me. I'll hold the spell as long as you need me to."
"That's good, cause I don't think Andraste even has a dick." She sighed and her eyes finally met his, he saw the unshed tears glistening in the depths. "Thank you, Bluebird."
"Anytime, Ver." The smile he offered was a comforting one. He held fast to his promise and she held on to his hand, they moved together as she needed. Their skin barely touched the entire time and as soon as she decided they were done, she was lowering her shirt and throwing up whatever barrier she used to keep people out.
He watched her adjust the linen tunic, her long fingers bruised and battered.
"Ver, your hands…" How many injuries was she hiding? He sighed to himself, knowing that she probably wouldn't want to accept further help, no matter how badly she might need it.
She held them out and flexed them but otherwise made no reaction. The skin looked tight and swollen, nearly as bruised as her torso had been.
"Yeah, I forgot to wrap them before we went out." She bent them again. "I'll be paying for that for a few days."
She stood and retrieved some items from the counter. Returning to her spot next to him, she started to unspool a thin roll of fabric.
"Since I'm being nice, I'll let you help," she said. "Two hands are better than one."
Surprised that she had, in her way, asked for his help, he nodded, and gave her a small, comforting smile.
After spreading an ointment across her hands she started the wrap and then handed it to him to move it around her wrist. Passing the fabric back and forth, they worked to bandage her fingers and hands as she walked him through how to do it best.
They made quite the pair, sitting there in that small infirmary. His arm in a sling, her hands mangled and beaten. Together, they worked to mend each other's visible wounds, while somewhere, the invisible ones slowly— ever so slowly— started to heal.
Juan was sitting on the sofa, sketching out some notes and humming along to some song coming over their earbuds. It was a nice quiet routine that they had fallen into in a lull of hours before work.
Jericho had been in the bedroom at his desk, trying to write and sorting through emails when one caught his attention. He stood quickly and practically ran into the living room, where he slid to a stop in front of Juan and grinned at them, wide-eyed. "Guess what?" There was a nervous, but excited, bounce to his step.
Juan looked up a bit surprised as they pulled their ear pods out. "Uh… Chance is giving you shift lead?"
"No," he chuckled as he sat next to Juan and pulled something up on his phone. "Remember when I said I didn't really have enough nerve to put my poetry out there? Well, after you read some of it, and actually liked it, I… took a chance. Submitted a few to some publishers… and…" He handed Juan the phone with the email on the screen.
They looked closely at the e-mail before looking up and grinning. Juan hopped up to their feet to throw their arms around his neck. "I'm so proud of you! So it's gonna be in a real book?"
Wrapping Juan in a tight hug, he beamed at them. "It is! Or they are, a few of them." Jericho was nearly babbling. "Sorry, I'm a little overwhelmed."
"A few?! Oh, that's amazing! We have to celebrate. Fuck, we have to work tonight. After, okay? We'll go for drinks."
"I'd love that." He smiled warmly at them, his eyes just a bit watery. "Can't wait."
They grinned and hugged him tightly again. "This is so cool! I'm so thrilled! A big time poet…"
"I don't know about that…" Jericho blushed a bit. "But it is nice… I didn't expect… It means a lot, especially that you're so excited about it."
"You worked hard on it, and it's beautiful."
"Beautiful?" He repeated quietly, under his breath. "Thank you." Blushing in full force now, he leaned into kiss them.
They kissed him and rested against his jaw. "It was beautiful. I keep a photo of it in my phone."
"You do?" Pulling back to look at them in surprise, he smiled softly, suddenly feeling a little choked up. "That's really sweet Juan."
"So I have a copy of it with your handwriting with me," they said with a nod.
Jericho swiftly reached up to swipe away the stray tears that had appeared on his face and kissed them again. "I love you."
They smiled and held him. "I love you too."
Jericho's eyebrows flew up, and his face broke into a full smile as he held them tighter, bending slightly to bury his face between their neck and shoulder. A somewhat muffled, contented sigh escaped his lungs.
Juan kept their arms around him, leaning into the warmth and comfort of it. "Sorry… I probably could have timed that better."
"No, please don't apologize," he sniffed. "That was perfect… I'm just surprised, very, pleasantly surprised."
"I'm just so happy for you, and I love seeing you be this happy."
Gazing at them softly, he took their face in both of his hands and pulled them in for a lingering kiss.
"So," they breathed against him. "How do you want to celebrate?"
"I thought we were going out for drinks tonight…? Or did you have something a little more immediate in mind?" Jericho smirked.
"Nothing in particular, I just wasn't sure if you wanted something special."
"I don't need anything special," He smiled warmly and caressed Juan's cheek. "You already made today amazing."
They leaned into his hand. "I didn't do anything."
"Juan…" Jericho chuckled. "Why do you think I'm so happy?"
"You're getting recognized for your exemplary hard work and talent?"
He laughed, "Well, yes… that too." Then his voice fell to a near whisper. "But you told me how you feel. And that means more to me than getting published."
"It was.. It felt," they started then hesitated, a bit embarrassed. "Hm. It seemed right then."
"You don't have to be embarrassed." He pressed a kiss to their forehead. "Does it still seem right…?"
"Yeah… I'm not used to it but, yeah. I guess it does."
"Good." He leaned into to kiss them. "Then I'm happy, and we can celebrate however you'd like. I think we have two things to celebrate now, after all." Jericho grinned.
If you didn’t know, Veryl Ingellvar came from a whim of the Grand Necropolis. An experiment from a sentient construct, with wells of ancient and magical power. It’s capable of a lot of things, things beyond imagination. So if it wanted to create life, why couldn’t it?
Now, I’m not saying that Veryl is a Power Puff Girl, but what if the Necropolis, after thousands of years of watching humans, picked and pulled the qualities it wanted and poured them into a vessel?
A little bit of strength. Some humor. Happiness. Sadness. Resilience. A hunger for knowledge. An aptitude for learning. A reverence for life.
And then it sent that little experiment out into the world.
But what if, Veryl being who she is, was too human? Deeply emotional and flawed. Messy and imperfect. What if those traits that had been chosen with such care, were exploited and corrupted? What if the thing that made her so successful as an experiment, was the thing that made her slip from its grasp?
So it had to reel her back in, because she’d strayed too far from its reach. What if she’d become so much stronger than it anticipated?
What if the Grand Necropolis’ Monster needed to be destroyed?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Jericho discovers a fear of Veryl's and helps her through it as they slowly learn to trust each other. - Co-written with @hedwigoprah as part of our Bluebird Moon series. 2,942 words.
Veryl propped her head on her hand, peering down from spot on the bed to his little make shift cot on the floor. She had apologized profusely about the mess that was her safe house, but he hadn't made a big deal out of it. Even so, the way he laid flat on his back on the floor made her uncomfortable. She only had the one pillow, and he'd insisted…
In no world would this be sustainable.
"Do you think this will be enough? I don't really feel like going on a walk about tonight." Veryl mused quietly, pulled at a loose thread on the straw stuffed mattress.
One of Jericho's eyes popped open to look at her, "we can hope. It's certainly safer if you do decide you need to stretch your legs."
In trying to circumvent more incidences of sleepwalking they'd settled on an uncomfortable solution. It had been two days since Veryl had slept, it was noticeable. Jericho was about the same though he had stolen a few moments at the hideout (he still refused to tell her the location) with plenty of people around.
Veryl gave him a shrug and flopped back on the bed. She didn't like what it meant if their hypothesis proved true. That they needed to be close together to sleep, or whatever mystical force that kept drawing them together would do just that. That she had made it through the dark streets of Dock Town without contracting some sort of incurable disease via her bare feet, had been nothing short of a miracle.
She had just barely begun to taste freedom and now she was magically shackled to a man that resented her for something she couldn't control. So she knew several of his deepest darkest secrets. She also knew who killed someone they shouldn't have and how close certain monarchies were to being over thrown. Secrets were her business. Though, he didn't need to know that.
She settled back trying to make more comfort where there was very little.
"Jericho?" Her voice broke through the soft patter of rain fall.
A put upon sigh, "Yes, Veryl?"
"Do you think stars have feelings?"
A long beat, "I'm going to sleep now."
She hummed, it was a nice thought. She thought it might be easier to be a star, with or without feelings. Something other than whatever this existence was shaping up to be.
Very little sound filtered through the small window above her bed, for which she was grateful, but she did enjoy the light tap tap tap of the ever persistent rainfall she'd become used to. It didn't rain terribly often in Nevarra. And when it did she was usually too far underground for it to matter. The weather was of little consequence to those that lived with the dead in their crypts.
Veryl tucked into her mostly flat pillow and her thread bare blanket and focused on the slow noise that the rain provided. Gently sinking into what she hoped would be a kind sleep where she could dream of being a star with feelings, far, far away.
---
The sudden riotous clap of thunder shook the whole building, waking Jericho from his sleep with a start. He groaned and rubbed at his eyes with his palms. Apparently his luck had taken a turn for the worst, and there was no long any such thing as an easy night of sleep. If it wasn't demons rooting around in his head, or strange entities forcing him to help someone in their sleep, it was the shitty Minrathous weather.
His hands moved back into his hair where he gave a hard scrub, trying to work out the frustration through his finger tips. It proved a futile endeavor.
With a deep sigh, he sat up, needing a reprieve from his position on the floor, however brief. Not an ideal way to sleep, but if it kept Veryl from breaking into his place while sleepwalking - if it let him, both of them, actually get some rest - well, then it might be worth it.
A flash of lightning lit the room, another large rumble not far behind. The small moment of illumination revealed Veryl, wide awake and cowering beneath her blanket, before they were plunged into darkness once again.
Unfortunately, the storm only seemed to be gaining intensity as another flash lit them again. Veryl seemed to be trembling, but trying to remain beneath his notice.
She was afraid. And he couldn't just leave her like that. Neither of them were getting any sleep while the storm raged anyway. He rose from his spot on the floor and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to startle her further.
"Veryl, are you okay?" His voice was tired, but his worry came through. She didn't answer, just stared at him with wide eyes.
He tried again, attempting to make his words as soothing as possible. "You're not used to this are you?" She shook her head at him as he continued. "I'm guessing you can't hear this kind of thing deep in the Necropolis." A nod of confirmation this time.
He extended his hand toward her, offering what comfort he could, but she didn't take it. She seemed to be curling into herself, trying to hide every flinch and cringe as the thunder rolled. "It's okay to be afraid, Veryl. But it's going to be alright. I promise. It will pass." He kept his hand held out to her, just in case. She only eyed him warily.
Another bright flash and loud crack accompanied the most violent clap of thunder yet, once again shaking the whole building. Veryl couldn't hide her reaction this time, nearly jumping out of her skin. In a quick movement, she finally reached out to take his offered hand and pulled him further into the bed with her, burying her face against his chest as she trembled. Stunned, but unable to deny her the comfort she was seeking, he wrapped his arms around her and held her firmly against him.
---
Not many things could catch her by surprise, but thunder always had. Veryl was a trained expert in her own anxiety. It was a necessity to know the tells when her heart started to thud and her stomach would hollow out. It was easy to prepare for when she could anticipate it. And while she remained unflappable by most standards, nothing could stop her in her tracks quite like the heaviness of the roll of an overwhelmingly loud rumble of thunder.
Even before she had been pulled off the streets, she had always run for the lowest point, trying to get away from the barest hint of noise if anything happened to roll through. As she got older the habit had persisted, though she tried to keep it decidedly lowkey. Even her old friends didn't know about the way it affected her.
Any anxiety she felt was kept under a lock and key. If one can't mentally inhabit the body, it is better to exist outside of it. The mantra had followed her here it seemed, the silky voice that expelled the words haunting her even now. Having someone bare witness to her lack of control over such a juvenile hang-up, it might as well be a humiliation ritual.
"Ah- Dammit." She mumbled against his shirt, the short tremors in her hands getting a lot worse. Andraste's fucking tits, it just had to be him, didn't it.
Not only was he witness to the worst moments in her life, recounted for them both in excruciating and inaccurate detail, but now he was the one person she was beholden to for some ridiculous otherworldly reason they couldn't fathom. Not only that, but she knew he resented her for learning about his past and things he hid from everyone. And here she was clutching his shirt like some kind of helpless waif in search of his specific support.
She had to focus to work her joints open and remove her hand from where it buried into the fabric, and try to work herself free from his hold. He must think her absolutely pathetic. This on top of everything else, there was no way to hide all of these vulnerabilities she'd kept like dark vices.
"Sorry, didn't mean to-" she patted him awkwardly, cringing when another loud rumbled resounded overhead. She couldn't bear to meet his eyes and see the pity there, it would make her feel small. Dependent.
The rain against the window had picked up speed, and the little trickle in the ceiling had decided to reappear after she'd worked so hard to patch it up the last time a storm had rolled through. This one felt like it was sitting on top of them, here to torment her specifically at exactly the right time. Apparently the world and the Fade conspired together if they conspired at all.
She closed her eyes against the next wave, covering her ears to block out the sound. Every time lightning struck her heart picked up pace in anticipation, but no relief ever came.
Warmth encased her hands, holding her still as she tried to fold inward, increasing the distance between her and the sound. Surprised, she looked up and into serene blue eyes.
---
"It's alright, Veryl. You're safe." There was no judgment in his words, only comfort. He rubbed small circles on the back of her hands where he held them. "I understand." Jericho wasn't afraid of storms himself, but he did know what it felt like to be paralyzed by fear he couldn't control. He might not be Veryl's favorite person, and he couldn't blame her for that, but he wanted to help, if she'd let him. He watched her focus on his lips to read his words, a small frown forming in the corners of her mouth.
He sighed. "Look, I don't think either of us are getting any sleep until this storm passes. And I'm certainly not getting any on that floor, so I don't mind staying up with you, if you want the company." He shrugged, figuring at the least, she might take the offer for some conversation, something to distract her from the sounds of the chaos outside. "Or we can just sit here quietly, if you prefer."
Another shaking rumble sounded, causing Veryl to flinch again. "Hey, hey look at me. It's okay. Just… try to breathe." He calmly breathed in and out with her a few times until she got it under control. "There you go. Good, just keep doing that. Every time there's a flash. Okay?" Breathing exercises were one of the only things he'd found helpful during a panic attack. He could only hope it helped her through this as well.
Veryl followed along easily enough, both of them focusing on keeping her breathing pattern steady until the storm seemed to move off. When the thunder seemed far enough away and her anxiety eased, he moved his hands and hers fell away. With no answer to his previous offer, he moved to take up his place on the floor again. A hand on his arm stopped him.
"If the floor is very uncomfortable, maybe- maybe you should sleep here. With me. I'll also be here." Her awkward smile seemed apologetic, distant thunder emphasized her remark.
Jericho's eyebrows shot up, disappearing beneath his bangs. He looked between her and the floor, contemplating. "Umm… yeah… I guess. Yeah…. are you sure?" The response was awkward and unsure. He knew it would be more comfortable, that they might both finally be able to get some rest, and that she needed the comfort, but the situation still felt strange.
"Yeah, I mean," she shrugged. "yeah, it can't hurt right? A closer proximity?" She moved to lay down leaving space for him on the small single bed.
With a nod, he moved to lay next to her and, unsure of what would make her the most comfortable in this situation, opted to lay on his side, back to her, giving her as much space as he could. It had been a while since he'd shared a bed with anyone, only ever having done so with Elek, and this was a very different situation from that one. He wanted to make absolutely sure that Veryl knew he wasn't there for anything other than sleep.
A few moments passed in awkward silence, Jericho kept his eyes closed tight, trying his best not to focus on how close they were. One wrong shift and he felt like everything might go up in smoke. He wasn't sure if he didn't prefer the floor after all.
"Jericho?" That same quiet voice from earlier, a little closer to his ear.
This time he tried to stifle the sigh, "Yes, Ver?" He muttered the Tevene she wouldn't understand under his breath so she wouldn't ask. If he was forced to answer another asinine question about whether or not the Dock Town cats were sad they had to sit in the rain—
"What if it's always like this?"
The question seemed to echo in the silence. Jericho's eyes flew open and he slowly turned to face her. His brows knitted together with concern. "I… I don't know. I hadn't considered…" His head was suddenly spinning, and he was all too aware of how close her face was to his on the sad little pillow.
"I just—" She started and then stopped, the hand under her cheek clenched and unclenched. "We have no idea what's causing this. What if it never stops pulling us to each other? What if it never lets us separate?" The frown from before made another appearance as her words sunk in.
Jericho exhaled sharply. "Venhedis… Veryl…" What was he even supposed to say to that? How could he even think about…? "Dammit. I don't know. I want to figure this out. Fix it. So we can go on with our lives. And if we can't… " He paused for a moment, thinking about what that would mean for them. "You really hate me, don't you?" He didn't know what made him ask. Just that the thought of being stuck with him indefinitely must be difficult for her.
"Maker—" He could see her eyes widen in the dark, the lighter one reflecting back what little light there was. "No, Jericho, I don't hate you. Gracious, you're the only reason I'm alive right now." Her fingers tapped out a rhythm before she continued, the silence having grown. "I have a very long list of people I hate, you don't make the cut."
Sighing, he lifted a hand to rub at his tired eyes. "Right… it just seems like you would be better off if I wasn't around. That's all." He knew it wasn't the right thing to say, that his words were coming out harsher, more accusing, than intended.
"Well, shit." The indelicate word escaped his bedmate on a laugh. "I'm the one who broke into your house and forced you to sleep next to me. Between home invasion and the demons in my head, I think you have every right to be the one that's better off." It was sarcastic and droll, the way she said it, just a hint of defensiveness in her tone. Like she couldn't quite believe that he thought she had the right to resent him.
That got a small chuckle out of Jericho. "Fine. Fair enough."
Just as he finished his thought, a sharp flash and resounding boom of thunder shook them once more, and Veryl practically threw herself into his arms. Another storm was starting to roll through. Taken aback, he laid there unmoving for a moment, before finally wrapping his arms around her, pulling her toward him. "Hey… it's okay. Just remember your breathing."
He was unable to keep count with the sheer number of swear words, several in her native language he couldn't understand.
"Damn it!" She finally settled on one, and counted her breaths the way he instructed. "It's never gonna end." He didn't like the way the hopelessness overtook her words, as though she meant both the storm overhead and this unprecedented trial they'd been forced by fate to face together.
He spoke softly as he gently rubbed her back. "The storm will pass, Ver. I promise." He couldn't make any such promises for their own situation however, and was sure that she must have noticed its omission from his assurance. "As for the rest… we'll just have to take it one day at a time."
Only nodding in response, Veryl curled further into him and clung tightly. He couldn't have let her go if he wanted to. Settled into his embrace, breathing steadily, she started to drift off as the storm faded into the distance. Left in the quiet, Jericho thought he might finally get some sleep as well.
Jericho woke the next morning, groggy and confused. Veryl had disappeared at some point, somehow quietly enough to not wake him. She probably wanted some space after everything that had happened the night before, he could understand that. But this was her space. Why would she just leave him alone here?
His confusion aside, there was no denying that their theory had proven true. Sleeping next to each other seemed to be a solution to their problem. He hadn't had nightmares, and he could only assume she hadn't either, as he didn't get pulled into them, or woken by her tossing and turning or screaming. And the storm had passed, just as he'd promised her. However, the two of them seemed to be more tangled than ever.
