This post by @toyuets4 came across my dash featuring these poses by @libepiece and I just had to snatch them up for Indya's next level. Thank you both for the inspiration and creativity!
(Aka, just one part of Rook's first Horrible, Very Bad, No-Good Weekend. (he's had two of those.))
I posted a small portion of this yesterday, but I'm just so obsessed with this scene, and I figured it's time I shared a slightly more complete version of it so you guys have a little bit more context. There's actually a lot more because a whole 'nother very intense conversation happened after this one, but that's for anther time. Enjoy getting stabbed in the heart several times in quick succession!
pov: Rook
wordcount: 1.7k
character(s): The Liars [Rook (D&D), Sigmar (NPC)]
canon status: canon session rewrite
trigger warnings: mentions of death, suicidal behavior, and self-harm; implied self-sacrifice. (yk, usual Rook stuff.)
summary: Rook wakes up after collapsing in the middle of a tavern. His mentor, Sigmar, interrogates him about the circumstances leading to his collapse.
Note: I can only take credit for some of this, since the dialogue is as close to a direct transcript of the dnd session as I could manage. You can thank my amazing DM for all of Sigmar's gut punches here.
[read part two on tumblr] [read the whole thing on ao3]
Rook comes to consciousness slowly, his mind fuzzy from sleep. He slowly opens his eyes, blinking them several times before he registers a wood-beamed ceiling. Where is he? He raises his head ever-so-slightly, looking around. The room comes into focus, semi-familiar. This is his room at the tavern. He has no memory of going to bed. The last thing he remembers is entering the tavern after the fight, and then…
Footsteps draw his attention away from that mystery. “Rook, you’re awake!” Sigmar rushes over to Rook’s bedside, relief clearly visible on his face. “You were out for twelve hours.” Seeing the question forming on Rook’s face he adds, “You fainted last night. It was… concerning to say the least.”
Rook slowly sits up as Sigmar continues talking. “What happened to you? I knew things were rough for you after we talked on the way here but the way you looked last night… you’re lucky to be alive.”
“I wasn’t.” The words are off his tongue and out of his mouth before Rook can process what he’s saying. “I wasn’t, yesterday.”
Sigmar peers closer at Rook, concern mounting on his face. “You weren’t what, Rook.”
Again, he speaks without thinking. “Alive. I wasn’t alive yesterday.”
The color drains from Sigmar’s face. “What do you mean? What do you mean you weren’t alive yesterday?”
Rook is taken aback by the forcefulness in Sigmar’s voice. Why does he sound so worried? Slowly, parsing out the words to keep from stumbling over them, he says, “Wolf sent an assassin after me. She succeeded.”
Sigmar’s brow furrows and his voice get louder. “Why didn’t you tell me?” When Rook doesn’t respond he adds, “Who saved you?”
“Aki. At least, I think it was him. I woke up and he was next to me.”
A flash of surprise crosses Sigmar’s face before vanishing, obscured by a new wave of concern. “What caused this? You looked terrible last night.” There’s a thread of something that sounds vaguely like fear in Sigmar’s voice as he says it, which catches Rook by surprise.
Rook takes a long moment to think. He can’t tell Sigmar the truth, at least not the whole truth. He’d tell the rest of the party immediately, and they’d all be in danger again. Rook settles on a partial truth.
“I haven’t been sleeping.” He thinks hard, trying to remember the details. “I don’t think I’ve slept more than a couple of hours in the past two weeks.”
Sigmar’s jaw drops. “With that little sleep, you’re lucky to be alive.” He looks at Rook closely, inspecting his face. Rook shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. “What has been keeping you from sleeping?”
Again Rook pauses, taking a moment to consider his answer. “I don’t know. I can’t fall asleep and when I do I wake up again shortly after.”
Sigmar narrows his eyes. “I’ve told you: you and I are the same. We’re both liars. So don’t lie to me.”
An answer pops into Rook’s head and he puts conviction behind it, laying on false hesitation as if he’s revealing a big secret. “It’s Captain Wolf. Ever since I ran into her again, I haven’t been able to sleep. I keep having nightmares. About her.”
Sigmar stares at Rook for a long moment before seeming to accept the answer. A sense of relief floods Rook’s body. His secret is safe, for now.
“Why are you doing this?” Sigmar asks, breaking the silence.
Rook blinks at him, uncomprehending. “Doing what? Coming to Torsek?”
Sigmar nods. “You’ve been pushing yourself to your limits, throwing your life on the line over and over again. Why? You’re endangering yourself, you’ve even died,” Rook could have sworn he heard Sigmar’s voice waver on that word. “But you keep doing it. What could possibly be worth that?”
An answer leaps to Rook’s lips. “Because they need me.” It comes out quietly, but seems deafening in the empty room.
Sigmar leans back slightly, eyes widening in surprise. He looks Rook up and down, as if he’s reevaluating him.
Without thinking, Rook adds, “You’re one of them.”
Sigmar, who has opened his mouth to speak, closes it again. He regards Rook for a long time. Eventually he says, “Your motivations may be more noble than mine, but at heart we act for the same reasons. I know you have not felt the care of a parent the same way I did…” He trails off momentarily, then continues, “But you are desperate for love all the same. I do everything in hopes of someday committing an act that will make the world love me. You, you act in hopes that the Vanguard will love you.” He looks Rook directly in the eyes, face serious. “You’re a fool.”
Rook says nothing, unable to summon up any kind of response to that statement. Sigmar continues, “The Vanguard does nothing but show you love, try to help you. They attempt to show you their love over, and over again. But you refuse to accept it.”
The words hit Rook like a slap, and he opens his mouth to retort, but Sigmar pushes ahead. “Instead of accepting their love, you throw yourself recklessly into danger, putting your life on the line again and again. You’re killing yourself, Rook.”
Rook’s eyes blaze with anger. He isn’t killing himself at all. He doesn’t want to die, far from it. He fights viciously for his life in every battle. He snaps back, “I’m not killing myself.”
Sigmar’s reply is swift and painful, like a bullet from his gun. “You might as well be.”
Rook finds himself speechless. What the hell is Sigmar talking about? He crosses his arms and turns away, refusing to meet the other man’s gaze.
A long silence stretches between them. Sigmar finally breaks it by saying, “I’ll help you. I just need to know that you’re telling me the truth.” His voice is surprisingly gentle, much softer than the whip-like tone from a moment earlier.
Rook looks up at him. “I am telling the truth.”
Sigmar frowns. “Rook, I told you, don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not!”
“You are. I know your tells.”
Arms still firmly crossed, Rook keeps his gaze fixed on the floor. He won’t – can’t – tell Sigmar the truth.
Sigmar seems to realize that Rook plans to stay silent, and sighs. “I can start listing off my theories. My ideas as to what’s keeping you from sleeping.”
Rook says nothing, still looking at the floor. His eyes follow the grain of the wood as it meanders through the planks.
“Did Maka do this to you?”
Before he can stop himself, Rook’s head whips upwards, mouth falling open in shock. “What? No!”
Sigmar merely nods, and Rook is hit with a sudden feeling that he may have just played right into Sigmar’s trap. Rook turns away again, trying to find the same grain on the same plank he had been before Sigmar had spoken.
“I’ve felt the same symptoms as you are now, but lesser, once before. Do you still bear Furicifer’s curse?”
A chill runs down Rook’s spine. He forces his voice to stay steady and calm as he says “Furicifer was banished. He’s gone.”
Sigmar is silent for a long moment, and Rook’s heart begins to race. Surely Sigmar will believe that. It’s not far off from the truth.
When Sigmar speaks, it almost knocks the air from Rook’s lungs. “I told you not to lie to me.” His voice is deadly serious, simmering with anger. As he begins to speak again, it grows in intensity, though still quiet. “What in the gods’ names were you thinking? We need to get rid of him.”
Rook interrupts him, voice firm. “I can’t. If I lose this curse, Furicifer is free to return to the material plane.”
Sigmar shakes his head. “We’ll find a better demonologist. Someone stronger than this Dr. Zayeed.”
Without thinking, Rook blurts out, “You promised you’d help me!”
Sigmar immediately falls silent, looking at him. His face is a mixture of sadness, concern, and something else that Rook can’t quite read. He stares at Rook until Rook grows uncomfortable, looking away. “I have two options here. I can enable you, help you continue to hide this from the rest of the party. Or I can tell them. Let them try and talk some sense into you.”
“I can’t.”
“What are you talking about? Of course you can. Tell the party and-”
“I can’t.” Rook’s voice shakes, but his tone is determined.
“Why not?” Sigmar snaps back.
“It was them or me.” The words are out too fast, and Rook regrets them the minute they’re out. But he looks up, meeting Sigmar’s gaze. He says again, softer, but more steady, “It was them or me.”
A long silence passes, and Rook eventually looks away. He stares at the ground for a long, long time, before he sees something enter his field of vision. Sigmar’s hand, holding one of the pills he’d made. Rook looks up at him, surprised. “Take it.” Slowly, Rook reaches out and grabs the pill.
He swallows it quickly, downing it before the taste can manifest on his tongue. Energy floods his body. Though he feels miles better than the day before, he hadn’t realized how much exhaustion still lingered in his body.
Sigmar grabs a pouch, presumably holding the other pills in it, and holds it out to him. Rook reaches for it, but Sigmar pulls it back. “I’ll help you on one condition.” Rook stares at him, but says nothing. “If your condition worsens again, I’m telling the party. And if you’re in your right mind, you’ll be telling them too.”
Rook’s shoulder slump in defeat. He needs the medicine desperately. He looks down at the floor again as he says, barely louder than a whisper, “Fine.”
Sigmar places the pouch in his hand and turns towards the door. “The rest of the party will want to see you.”
As he reaches the door, hand on the knob, Rook speaks. “Thank you.” The words are quiet, but genuine, tinged by the weight of Rook’s desperation. Sigmar’s hand hesitates on the doorknob, but he doesn’t reply or turn back before he opens the door. As he walks off down the hall, Rook can hear him calling out to the party, “Rook’s awake.”
oh my god I have made a terrible mistake, I just watched series 1 of Sherlock for the first tie, and holy SHIT I am already in so deep, just 3 episodes and already these 2 idiot men have a strangle hold on my whole entire soul. If there's one thing I definitely didn't need it was another obsession, but too late now! I will be obsessed forever. I can tell. why have I done this. Help.
i was supposed to sleep but accidentally started thinking about kyomasa handholding. and the evolution of physical touch in their relationship. and kyouya slowly but surely becoming more physically affectionate with masamune over the course of their relationship.
where at first it was mainly just masamune grabbing kyouya's hand without much reciprocating, eventually kyouya would hold his hands tightly in his. it's a silent way for him to say 'i love you'
especially because i hc kyouya as very touch averse, whereas masamune's love language is physical touch
I'm always taken aback by how much romance there is between holmes and watson in the original stories tbh. like we all know it's pretty gay but...c'mon
