#daphenris

[lucaniseyebrowlicker]

10 First Lines Tag Game

Rules: Post the first line of your ten most recently published fanfics

was tagged by @nonagesimus (thanks!!) and am gonna tag: whoever is reading this and wants to do it because I have no idea who has done it so far 😂

marrow deep: a Rookanis pwp oneshot for Kinktober

The knot tightens at the back of Lucanis’s head, and Daphne says, “No Spite,” in a low, wicked voice, fingers bracing his chin, tilting his head down and to the side.

The Spirit and The Matter: postgame fic with added in-game flashback scenes, exploring Daphne and Lucanis’s relationship a year after the events of The Veilguard, and expanding on their romance.

When the pain rose too high, spilled over the threshold — impossible, he would have told you, a year ago; he’s been well conditioned to pain — the demon rose too.

all these bridges, now old stone: a Rook/Rook DA Kiss Week piece for the prompt Tavern, featuring @nonagesimus ‘s Ayden de Riva

“I’m leaving the Crows.”

Barely a whisper, Ayden de Riva’s voice sounds beneath Daphne’s ear at once with their heartbeat

winding circles, bring me back to you: a Rook/Fenris piece for DA Kiss Week, for the prompt Morning

The dawn comes grey and heavy. A cool, salted breeze carries the crackling scent of a coming storm in through the window where Daphne stands watching the market stalls as they squat — still and silent — in the streets below her.

Theme Nights: a Lighthouse as a queer bar au, featuring multiple Rook/Rook pairings and Polyamorous Drag Queen!Lucanis

Thumbing through her message history with Lucanis is a form of torture Daphne indulges in a little more frequently than she’d like to admit to.

Stepping Stones: a Rookanis Time Travel AU; Daphne is sent back in time by the Executors to relive the events of The Veilguard, and forbidden from rescuing Lucanis and Spite from the Ossuary.

Drab olive canvas, worn through in patches and caked with road-dust, greets her when she opens her eyes. She didn’t sleep well, was plagued by too many strange dreams.The Regret Prison, it seems, has learned new shapes to twist itself into when it comes to haunt her still.

Beasts of Our Own Making: a Rookanis Mafia AU, in which Lucanis recruits bookstore owner, Daphne, to help solve the murders of several Crows that seem to have a connection to the occult.

The elevator ride was so smooth, so silent, that had its occupants been anyone beside the two people currently riding it to the 16th floor, it was likely they would not have registered its movement at all.

if you were a sinner, i could make you believe: a Rook/Rook/Illario pwp fic featuring @hightowerqueen ‘s Bea de Riva

It comes as no surprise to Daphne, when she closes the door to the wine fridge and instead of turning to select a glass from the cabinet, she finds herself caged in against the counter by Beata de Riva.

bend to break: Davrookanis pwp fic

They’d agreed upon a certain rule.

But now — with more than a little wine swimming in her veins as she’s draped across one of the armchairs in the corner of the kitchen, legs hanging over one side, feet in Davrin’s lap while Lucanis watches them from under hooded lids — it’s difficult to remember what it is.

pay the piper: Rookanis pwp fic

Lucanis Dellamorte drags a whetstone down the length of his blade with a hissing scrape, and Daphne Ingellvar feels the sound of it as if it is hands moving over her own body

[lucaniseyebrowlicker]

SHIP MEME TAG GAME

Rules: make a moodboard to represent the vibe of your ship, but the pictures have to be text-based/memes/other things you wouldn't normally include if you were making a moodboard for them

was tagged by @hightowerqueen and @corvus-frugilegus so I’m using it as an excuse to do Two Ships! also I have no idea who’s done this and who hasn’t but we all have 800 ships so I’m just gonna go ahead and tag both of you back in case if you want an excuse to do another ship. And will also tag @classicleechaos and @orangeandclover !

Art featured in the Daphne/Fenris ship post is by @theesteppenwolf (thank you I’m still So In Love with it!)

Daphne Ingellvar/Lucanis Dellamorte

Daphne/Fenris

[lucaniseyebrowlicker]

WIP WThursday Oops

Was tagged by @nonagesimus and @corvus-frugilegus ! And I am tagging no one because I didn’t check this app and notice until almost 9pm Thursday 😅

I’m in a bit of a rut writing-wise right now, so here’s something I jotted down while ago for a Daphcanis breakup fic, where Daphne’s working a job clearing out holdover Venatori cells with Fenris:

[lucaniseyebrowlicker]

WIP Wednesday

Was tagged by @hightowerqueen and @no1lucanispegger ! Will tag @nonagesimus , @corvus-frugilegus , and @classicleechaos 💜

I have been in such a rut writing wise lately and don’t have anything very new to share this week so I went digging through some older stuff I haven’t touched in forever. So today we have some Divorce Era Daphne content to chew on.

When she feels spar-varnished wood under her hands, she leans over the railing until she can see the water below them, hear the gentle slosh of it and watch foam and salt water churn. She takes a deep breath. The bustle of wind-blown rope and billowing canvas, the din of sailors shouting farewells to the docks and instructions across the deck, rush in to fill the space in her head that had burned numb with panic moments before.

“Is this going to be a problem?” a voice calls from behind her, grumbling lowly.

Daphne stands, tilts her head to one side to crack her neck, then turns to face the speaker. She comes face to face with an elven man, taller than most elves she’s known, dressed in thick black leathers. His face is set in a hard-pressed frown, his tawny complexion broken by deep-etched lines, in intricate markings of cool white, nearly glowing in the noonday sun.

“What?” she asks, silently cursing Isabela for not revealing the identity of her contact ahead of time. Daphne recognizes him, from Varric’s descriptions, from Isabela’s own stories: Fenris. She would have liked to know ahead of time that it was someone who might have questions for her – for the woman who had been with his longtime friend at the hour of their death.

“Claustrophobia,” Fenris answers, standing apart from her, a wary eye passing over her.

She doesn’t answer, but squares her shoulders and stands to her full height. “Fenris, right?” she asks, and watches his eyes narrow. She’s not claustrophobic, but she doesn’t feel the need to explain that to him, to clarify that the panic that had sent her bolting from their shared room had been a different beast entirely.

It’s been three months since she left Treviso, but before today she’s never been more than a day’s journey away from an Eluvian, never been more than a sunset away from changing her mind. But she’s about to put two weeks’ worth of ocean between herself and the road back, with no way for the letters she’s grown used to receiving every week to find her. No way to shuck off the weight off her decision, should the desire strike her.

[lucaniseyebrowlicker]

WIP Wednesday

was tagged by both @saltyowlets and @nonagesimus! I will not be tagging anyone because Wednesday is nearly over and I am getting this post out by the skin of my teeth myself lol

In an unfortunate (fortunate) and unexpected turn of events, I have found myself positively entrenched in an AU (or maybe it's canon now, we'll see, I have no control!) in which Daphne goes buckwild in the South with beloved characters from earlier games during the time postgame in which I imagine she and Lucanis have broken up because of The Crows of It All. And now all my WIPs are about her and Fenris and it's working in a way I did not expect, so I am going a little nuts about it!

Anyway here's some of that:

“Tell me about him?” Fenris asks, and the question catches her off guard. “Do I have to?” she responds, flat. But she knows she will. There’s nothing else to do, not now that they’ve snuffed out the Venatori presence in town. They’ll rest here a few days before moving on to the fortress a day’s hike southeast.

“No, you don’t.” Fenris says, and he stands, and starts removing the belt his daggers are strapped to, unsheathing them and laying them on the credenza where his gauntlets and braces are already lined up. He shrugs off his shearling vest, and Daphne watches the easy way his shoulders roll, before he turns and drapes the vest along the back of the chair he’d just been sitting in.

That old feeling prickles up the back of her throat. Pine tar and sawdust. An ancient snarl of things unsaid that seems as much a part of her as bone and breath some days. 

“We weren’t good at talking to each other,” she says. “It’s why I left.”

Fenris pauses, fingers stilling at the laces of his pauldrons, and she rises from the bed, crosses to him. When she reaches out, he drops his hands from the ties and lets her undo them herself, lift them off his shoulders.

“Our time in the Veilguard, his work with the Crows, it weighed on us,” she continues, and Fenris takes the pauldrons from her, sets them carefully aside. When he turns back, he lifts an arm and she steps in close, ducking under the limb to loosen the strap of his breastplate. She runs the smooth leather and the cold metal of the rivets and buckle under her thumb, before stepping out to let him turn and offer her his other side.

“I was afraid,” she says, repeating the gesture, then guiding him with a hand at his waist to turn and face her head-on. His face is still, stony, though he watches her with rapt attention as she reaches for the strap at his right shoulder. “Of losing him. I had no family, in the Mourn Watch, and the Veilguard had splintered. I was lost. So I said nothing, kept things from him.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” Fenris says, and she’s moved so close that the air between them vibrates with the timbre of his voice. 

She quirks her lips, then says, “It’s easier, here. I am not a Watcher, not Rook, not the First Talon’s partner. I am,” she stops. Because the word she was about to say is one she has longed for all her life, and yet it stills on her tongue.

“You are Daphne,” Fenris finishes. And her name, said here, said now, by a friend, with no one else around to think of any of the other things she has been called, is a sound sweet as morning dew.

She nods, moves to work the buckle at Fenris’s left shoulder. He puts a hand at her hip, steadying her, fingers barely grazing the leather of her leggings.

“He is kind,” she says, the continuation a desperate bid against the way her heart has started hammering at her chest, rabbit-quick. “In a way his work does not often allow him to indulge.”

The breastplate is ready to remove, but it would require their parting, and Daphne’s pulse is fluttering wild in her throat, she’s struggling to keep her breathing even, but she cannot bring her self to step back. She stays close.

His fingers are still at her hip when he says, “It would appear you have a type.”

She shifts her attention from the armor still hanging from his body, turns her head to look him in the eye, amusement at his own remark glimmering there, crouching in the corners of his mouth. 

“And what makes you think you have sufficient evidence to back that claim?” she asks, and it’s a little more breathless than she’d been hoping.

“Am I supposed to pretend I have not noticed?” Fenris asks. He takes a step back of his own, and finally sheds his armor.

“No. That rather defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”

[lucaniseyebrowlicker]

gimme all them juicy first real date details for daphenris because i need more of those two

OOOH OK! I don’t know if Daphenris have a true First Date.

They meet after Daphne leaves Treviso, and is staying with Taash and the Lords and Isabela decides she’s been moping and sulking enough and she needs to go do something, and besides an old friend needs help clearing the island of Alamar of the outposts built there by the Venatori who fled Tevinter after the fall of the Evanuris. And who better to help with that than Rook, who dealt the death blow to The Venatori as an institution. And the attraction builds while they’re traveling there, with nothing to do onboard the ship Isabela packed them onto but spar, split a bottle of wine, and play Wicked Grace.

But they don’t do anything about it until after the island’s been cleared. It’s empty, save for the two of them, and they have a few days before Isabela’s people pick them back up for the return trip. So it’s less a date, and more them finally having the freedom to act on what they’ve been feeling for several weeks now.

Daphne finally has the freedom to be indulge in her emotions, far away from the Mourn Watch and the pressure of being Rook in a world that’s rebuilding and looking for hope from the names they’ve heard in the tales. And Fenris always admired how free and bold the Fog Warriors were with their emotions when he lived with them. And Fenris understands what it is to have to try to live alongside the stories they tell about you, what it’s like to have to reclaim pieces of yourself in the face of those legends.

So the tension of that — they’ve admitted their attraction to each other, they’re both determined to grab onto bits of peace wherever they can find it, they’re both through with pretending they don’t feel the things they feel — snaps, as soon as the job is done. And they sort of just spend a few days tangled up in each other while they wait for the ship back. And then a few weeks more, on the sail back to Rivain.