Little drabble about my second Rook, just a peek into her life a few weeks before she was kicked from the Watchers.
The deep chill of the stone halls was always a welcome greeting after a trip to the surface, especially after such an extended one. She breathed deep the smells of myrrh and stone, more comforting than the rain soaked cobble of the world above. Her footsteps echoed hollowly down the hall as she made for another set of stairs, the Memorial Gardens had moved again in her absence, though located just in time for the ceremonies to be performed.
She wasn’t going for rites and ceremonies, however, just to enjoy the peace the gloom brought. Another turn and she was passing through another hallway, empty besides the usual vases and storage. Though, something felt… off.
A heavy feeling rested on her shoulders, sinking deep into her bones until it settled in the pit of her stomach. The dead ahead of her were restless, each step forward made the feeling more pronounced. This pit was her least favorite part of being a Watcher, the more violent dead were more an annoyance. But this? That sinking misery that grew with every breath towards that door? Pure torture.
Oh, she could handle the miserable spirits, coaxing them back to their rest before they got themselves destroyed. But these felt like the beginning trappings of something more. The garden would have to wait.
A flick of her wrist and the door was opening before she even reached it. She could see someone flailing about as she crossed the door’s threshold. Ah, a junior watcher, or was it some noble here on tenure? Either way, they were in need of aid. Stumbling back from a body, jolting and lurching towards the poor boy.
“First rule of spirit calling,” her voice cut through the air like a knife, drawing the attention from the boy and the dead. “Never call with a tumultuous mind”
The boy stumbled towards her, but the undead he called was faster. She met it in the middle, strides still calm as the body reached her, rotted hands reaching for anything they could and started pulling.
She didn’t falter, bringing a hand up to rest against the sunken cheek. “Please, calm yourself, I’d hate for you to lose yourself for one angry boy”
The dead’s fingers dug further into her arms, “cruel, unfair, injustice.”
The voice was broken, coming out in a firm but soft whisper. She ran her thumb over the body’s cheek.
“And who is losing yourself helping? Please, my friend, return to your rest.” She brought her other hand up, resting on one of the arms squeezing her so hard she’d bruise later.
“Cannot fall, cannot rest”
“If I promise to tend to this injustice personally? Please, be at peace and return to the Fade.”
It was too late, it finally lunged at her, toothy jaw snapping at her throat. The boy that had started this whole ordeal shrieked and booked it for the exit. She snapped and froze his feet in place. “We do not tolerate such flagrant disregard of duty and responsibilities here, boy. You will stay and watch as I correct your failure.”
A sharp shove and a flash of magic had sent the body far enough away, she could comfortably draw her dagger and summon her orb. It bobbed above her fingers as the spirit pried itself from the body, twisting and warping until Despair floated before her. Ice was already crawling along the surrounding ground, moving rapidly and clawing at the skirt of her dress.
A step forward and Despair’s trappings sank their claws into her, the world was dark save the spirit. Lunging towards her, its claws were met with her dagger, clanking off with a horrid thud. It jolted back, arms flailing as it attempted to right itself. She gave it no leeway.
She shot forward, sending a few necrotic shots from her orb before finishing off the spirit with a swipe from her dagger. With a heavy sigh, she sheathed the blade as the world reappeared for her. “Such a waste.”
Fingers running through the fading remnants of despair, she knelt and rested her hand on the back of the dead’s skull. “To be torn from your rest so violently for the whims of a childish boy, you have my sympathies.”
Finally, she turned her attention back to the catalyst of this whole mess, a Tevinter boy of noble birth. She didn’t bother to hide her disdain and rolled her eyes, standing and moving towards the boy.
He jolted at the harshness of her voice as she approached, “W-well I—“
“A proper Watcher speaks clearly, each word a choice and each choice made with certainty” she came to a halt in front of him, “Lest our hesitation lead to malice.”
He stumbled forward at her snap, the ice she had used on him melting and finally releasing him. He fumbled to his feet, “I-I-I was trying to practice spirit c-calling and that happened! I swear I—“
”Back straight and speak clearly.” A glare from the woman made him jump to attention. “Whether you stand before me as a Watcher apprentice or a noble on tenure, the rules will forever be the same. And you attempted to summon the spirit out of what? Anger? Malice? Spite?”
His gaze shifted to his boot as he toed the ground.
“Speak boy. Clearly. I will not repeat myself again.”
“I-I wanted to prove I was worth being here! I needed to show my parents I’m worth all this effort—!”
She sighed again, eyes closing and shoulders going slack. One hand raising to silence the boy, the other coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Another deep sigh as her arms dropped to her front, fingers lacing together, eyes opening to stare daggers at the quivering boy. “You let a knock to your pride so easily sway your magic boy? The best way you can prove you are worth the effort, is not destroying what little good will you already have.”
He shifted slightly, finally meeting the woman’s gaze.
“Trying to rise above your station when you don’t have the means to face the consequences is how we got the Blight, yes? Silence your ego and learn at the pace given to you, a slower education is far better than destroying yourself through pride, boy.”
He nodded, eyes falling back to the floor as tears welled up in his eyes. “I just, wanted to—“
“Enough.” She snapped, fighting back another sigh. “I care very little for your emotional outbursts. Return to your dorm, immediately. I will be discussing your continued tenure here with your professor.”
She twisted on her heel and moved towards the door.
“Wait— wait, wait, please wait, I can’t—“ He wailed, stumbling towards the more senior necromancer, hands clamping onto her sleeve.”
“Lady elf, please, I can’t go home. If the know I failed, they’d disown me—“
She pulled her arm sharply from his grasp, “Your dorm. Return to it. I will not repeat myself.”
He opened his mouth, before shutting it quickly. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he trekked past her, quiet sobs escaping him as he disappeared down the hall.
She took a deep breath as the room she stood in finally went silent, she was almost able to find that bit of peace she’d been craving for weeks. But the shift in the air denied her that peace.
The faceless being faded into sight from the open doorway. “GREETINGS. THE SPIRITS WERE DISCONTENT, WE CAME TO SOOTHE”.
She turned to face them as they floated to within reach of her. “And now you have something further to investigate?”
“YOU SHOW CRUELTY TO A BEING THAT REQUIRES A GENTLE HAND.”
“He isn’t cut out to be a Watcher, Vorgoth”
“AND CRUELTY RESONATES STRONGER WITHIN A BROKEN WILL”
“Unfortunately, true.” Her hands came to rest on her hips as she looked past them. “He’d be better brewing potions or healing”
“WE WILL FIND HIM PURPOSE WITHIN NEVARRA”
“Thank you, Vorgoth” she folded her hands behind her, “join me for a walk? I purchased some paintings for you during my visit above ground, several Orlesian and Ferelden pieces.”
“MANY THANKS.” With a bow of their head, they started towards the door.
“It’s good to be home.” She quickened her pace, humming softly as she caught up with the ancient being.
