TheCraftyBaroness's Pinned Posts for your reading pleasure:
Dragon Age Veilguard Mini-Fics:
The Lighthouse Makes Their Eyes Glow - a short idea I had after seeing the very fantastic art by @vonspe
The Lighthouse Makes Their Eyes Glow
Oh my goodness!! I SAW THIS and had to write!!!
The Lighthouse does something to magic—enhances it
Lighthouse Pranks - Part 1
Magic lingers in the Lighthouse, making the Veilguard’s mages glow when their emotions run high. At first, it’s startling—then it becomes an opportunity. Spite and Manfred have discovered the thrill of the perfect ambush, and no one is safe.
Lighthouse Pranks - Part 1
A continuation of the idea here where being in the Lighthouse causes the mages eyes to glow when experiencing str
Lighthouse Pranks - Part 2
Spite and Manfred refine their craft, taking their pranks to new heights—literally. But their targets are not so easily fooled. Emmrich is delighted, Neve solves the case before it even begins, and somehow, the wisps may be having the most fun of all.
Lighthouse Pranks - Part 2
For Part 1, please go here to read:
Lighthouse Pranks - Part 1
A continuation of the idea here where being in th
Lighthouse Pranks - Part 3
Spite and Manfred take their pranks to new extremes, lurking in the shadows of Harding’s garden and finding an unexpected new hiding place in Sabriel’s (Rook) quarters, leaving chaos—and threat of prank revenge—in their wake.
Lighthouse Pranks - Part 3
Harding’s quarters are a green sanctuary, overflowing with life. Potted plants sit on every shelf, creeping vines
Lighthouse Pranks - Part 4
Spite and Manfred get the drop on Davrin and Assan. (Posted but I need to reorganize my links as I didn't realize it would be limited to 10 in a post 😅)
Emmrich and my Rook (Sabriel Mercar):
So Very Loved - Where Rook sees a glimpse into what Emmrich's childhood may have been like after his parents died and wants to make sure he knows he is very loved.
Small Emmrich scene with my Rook. I wrote this because I made myself sad thinking of Emmrich's childhood after losing his parents and how he
Rook is Loved As Well - Where Emmrich returns to the Lighthouse and finds Rook worn out and asleep at the table in the Library.
This time, Emmrich saw a worn-out and sleeping Rook. A small writing thought I had with some tender thoughts and falling asleep beside one a
Buying a Ring for Emmrich - Rook wants to buy a ring to gift Emmrich. Taash's help is enlisted and they travel to Rivain to find one.
Short write up of when my Rook - Sabriel Mercar buys the ring for Emmrich with Taash.
Happier scene this time! Also, I really enjoyed havin
No Time Left - A Ring for Emmrich - It's the night before Tearstone, Sabriel (Rook) worries that she might not have another chance to give Emmrich the ring she got him.
Finally wrote out this scene of when my Rook — Sabriel Mercar, was going to give Emmrich the ring she had bought for him. She had meant to d
Want to know more about my Rook - Sabriel Mercar?
The second part in a series of posts based on the questions asked here:
I don’t know why, but it never occurred to me that I could actually
A small series of posts thinking about the questions asked here:
I don’t know why, but it never occurred to me that I could actually make o
Treated myself to some very fancy nails (I have never gotten something like this before!) and the nail artist loved the idea of basing it off of Emmrich and Manfred!
@draco-illius-noctis 's amazing Emmrook story is almost complete 🥹 and I cannot emphasize enough how freaking HAPPY reading "Strictly Literary" had made me 🤣 (easily my favorite "Davrin" I've read in any DragonAge fiction.)
Strictly Literary - draco_illius_noctis - [Archive of Our Own]
Please go enjoy it if you haven't already ❤️ ❤️ and give draco some love!
Hello hello! I wanted to find a use for these chibi bases I got and I really loved seeing everybody's OC outfit moodboards this week so I was inspired :)
Cyri Mercar belongs to @mythals-whore
Nahia Laidir belongs to @grimrevolution
Sabriel Mercar (Big Sabi <3) belongs to @thecraftybaroness
Turvi Laidir belongs to @davrinsleftpectoral
Amara Ingellvar belongs to @chaosherald
Ashallen Aldwir belongs to @postcardsfromheapside
Zalan de Riva belongs to @blackwall-my-tiny-husband
Selora de Riva belongs to @basedonconjecture
Cora Amell belongs to @rookamell
Veryl Ingellvar belongs to @hedwigoprah
Sihu Thorne belongs to @thedissonantverses
I based most of the outfits off the OC wardrobe posts (linked to each name!) except Veryl and Sihu who I kinda took a stab at designing for so I hope they look right!
Everyone has such great taste and snazzy OCs <3
Chibi bases from Neko Rina Art (linked to Instagram)
I've been tagged by the lovely @seaglassmelody, thank you!
Favorite Color: I'm a big fan of most shades of green, but a deep forest green is the most soothing color to me.
Last Song You Played: Afraid of the Quiet by Lydia the Bard because it's very fun to sing and her vocal range is a very comfortable one for my voice.
Currently Reading: Vox Machina - Stories Untold which is a collection of short stories of 10 different characters from the Vox Machina campaign. It's fun, there is a lot of variety and writing styles.
Currently Watching: Dimension 20 shows are my comfort shows and are often in the background while I tidy or work on crafting.
Currently Craving: Watermelon. It's one of my favorites as the weather gets so terribly hot!
Coffee or Tea: Definitely tea. Coffee is fun but I'm very sensitive to caffeine, a little bit can go a long way for me so green tea or a Dr. Pepper is enough to wake me up for most of a day. 😆 I love a tea mixed with something like a lemonade or other juice too.
RULES: Post pictures of your character's wardrobe and put your OC in the center. It can be other people wearing the clothing, it's just a moodboard.
I've been tagged by the lovely @spinfins to do the OC wardrobe post. Here's my Sabriel Mercar in what I like to imagine she wears when she has cozy days with Emmrich and doesn't have to worry about saving anyone. She can wander their gardens, sketch, and feel pretty.
I've currently got in the works several chapters of my fic - the Sentinel and the Professor as well as still in the brainstorming process for more scenes in the Lighthouse shenanigans mini series fic I have going about Manfred and Spite pranking the rest of the Veilguard. (Totally open to ideas!!).
The WIP snippet I'm sharing is from (The Sentinel and the Professor) the start of an upcoming chapter that gives us a look into Emmrich's childhood, be warned it starts with the deaths of his parents 😭
The Grand Necropolis was never truly silent.
Even as a young boy, Emmrich had known that. Some of the other initiates had feared the long halls and vaulted chambers. They whispered about spirits and curses, about what moved in the dark when the last of the torches guttered out. Things that crawled from the Fade or summoned by unscrupulous necromancers.
But Emmrich… he listened. Many spirits spoke with kindness. Others danced and flit around, no words, but feelings. Many, many feelings.
He had been ten when the building collapsed in the market square—an accident, they said, a miscast spell from the upper city that cracked the foundation and sent stone raining down like judgment. He remembered the sound. The weight. The dark. He remembered the sound of his father's voice shouting in warning, his mother’s arms wrapped tight around him, her body curled over his like a shield.
Then—nothing. No warmth. No breath.
Only silence.
The Mourn Watch found him two days later, buried beneath rubble and grief, clutching his mother’s hand and staring blankly at a world that no longer made sense.
Thank you to @davrinsleftpectoral and @seaglassmelody for tagging me!
Here is my entry for this week's word "Susurration" and Davrin week.
A little Sabriel and Emmrich driving poor Davrin to distraction with their flirting. 😆
The rustle of leaves in the Arlathan woods wraps around them like a breath half-held—leaves murmuring in a thousand shifting tones, branches creaking with old secrets, the forest alive and dancing.
The group walks in a loose formation, the canopy above casting dappled shadows across mossy roots and winding paths. The air is cool, the light soft, and the silence between them is companionable—until Emmrich, without looking up from the notes he’s scribbling in the margin of his travel journal, speaks. His eyes almost sparkling as he takes in the beauty.
“It speaks in whispers,” he says, voice low and reverent. “The forest. A susurration of memory.”
Sabriel, walking beside him, nods in agreement. “One of my favorite words.”
Emmrich turns toward her, an adoring look on his face. “Fitting.”
She tilts her head. “Why’s that?”
“It suits you, my dear.” he replies. “Quiet, layered, often overlooked by those who don’t know to listen. Those who do rarely forget the sound.”
Sabriel gives him a look—half amused, half undone. “You always say the most ridiculous things in the most convincing way.”
“I aim to disarm,” he says leaning a little closer. “You are alarmingly well-defended, darling. Besides, it's only fair. You frequently choose the most unexpected moments for compliments.”
From up ahead, Davrin groans—long, theatrical, and utterly done.
“Oh, for crying out loud! Are we flirting with vocabulary now?”
Sabriel stifles a laugh behind her hand. “It’s academic.”
“It’s a crime,” Davrin mutters. “You two sound like a pair of love-struck archivists who just discovered similes.”
“I think that’s the goal,” Bellara offers brightly, earning a scowl from Davrin.
Sabriel leans closer to Emmrich, murmuring, “Do you think if we start discussing root morphology, he’ll bolt into the trees?”
Emmrich’s mouth twitches. “He’d trip over symbolism on the way out.”
Davrin spins to glare at them, hands in the air. “You are whispering about me now, I knew it.”
The forest continues its susurration, ancient and indifferent and beneath its hush, the sound of shared laughter trails between the trees.
This is the fan fic continuation of the comic I made of Manfred finding a baby in the Necropolis.
(I don't know if Thedas has a baby formula equivalent but let's just pretend they do!)
Emmrich had just finished making notations on his students' research papers when he heard what sounded like a baby crying in the distance outside of his apartment in the Necropolis.
He shook his head at the the preposterous thought. He glanced up at the portrait of him and Tessora on their wedding day and smiled. He always missed her while she was off at sea, but knew she was due to be back in a few days time. Emmrich still sometimes couldn't believe that he had found such love.
He heard the crying sound again as he made his way to the kitchen to make some tea. Where was Manfred? The sound seemed closer now. Emmrich stepped outside just as Manfred was hurrying up to him. He was carrying something wrapped in brown in his bony arms.
"Manfred! What have you got there?"
"Dunno!"
Before he could, once again, import the proper manner of speaking, Emmrich looked down at the bundle and gasped.
"Oh my word, look at you." He whispered, voice soft and full of wonder. A baby with cherub cheeks and blue eyes peered up at him. "Where did you come from?" He asked as he took the child from Manfred.
"Found in box." Said Manfred, pointing in the direction he had come from.
"Found? Oh dear."
Emmrich took the baby inside and set it down to inspect for any injuries. The baby boy seemed slightly underweight but otherwise looked healthy. He wrapped him back up in the blanket.
"Manfred? Show me where you found him."
After finding nothing of note inside the box, Emmrich took the baby to Myrna and Vorgoth.
"A child? Abandoned in the tombs? We must contact one of the orphanages in the city. It may take a few days to place the child." Mryna said. She noticed how Emmrich unconsciously clutched the baby closer. "Unless you think the baby should remain with us?"
"ANOTHER VOLKARIN" boomed Vorgoth.
Emmrich gazed down at his little face and realized the baby had fallen asleep in his arms. The mention of an orphanage brought Tess to mind. Granted the ones here in Nevarra City were much better than the one she grew up in.
Could they adopt this child? He had always thought about becoming a father but he knew Tessora had reservations. They had briefly discussed the possibility of children after they got engaged but nothing was ever set in stone.
"I will look after him while you contact the orphanages. I cannot make such a decision without Tessora though."
"Very well."
Emmrich left them and immediately set out to procure the needed supplies to care for an infant, Manfred in tow. He knew of one Mourn Watcher couple that had a child in the last year and made his way to their quarters to see if they could assist with anything.
"Professor Volkarin! What a surprise!" The woman tried to compose herself at finding her former teacher and much respected Senior Necromancer on her doorstep. And with a baby at that.
"Watcher Reinmenkortz, I apologize for calling unannounced. Might I enquire if you have any baby items that your own little one has outgrown? I will happily compensate you for anything you are willing to part with."
"I might have a few things. Please come in. I had heard you were recently married, Professor, but I didn't know you'd welcomed a baby as well! Congratulations!"
Emmrich couldn't help but smile. "Well, this one was found abandoned in the tombs. Manfred here found him. I'm going to be taking care of him until we can settle on what to do with him."
"Abandoned? The poor dear. I'm sure you and your wife will take excellent care of him, Professor." She excused herself to gather some things for him.
Emmrich looked down at his charge and saw that he was still asleep. What is your story, little one? Watcher Reinmenkortz returned with a box of things for him.
"Manfred, if you please! Thank you, again."
Once back at home, the baby woke up and required feeding and changing. Emmrich had never actually changed a diaper before but he was a quick study. He spent the rest of the evening reading to him until he fell asleep again. Emmrich put him in a makeshift crib he made from a box and settled into his own bed and he found himself once again missing Tessora.
Three days had past and he, Manfred, and the baby had developed a routine of sorts. Manfred was so curious about him and eager to help.
"Baby!" He now shouted every time he saw him.
Emmrich had taken the baby on walks about the gardens, introducing him to his parents even. They visited Myrna and Vorgoth as well.
"You have taken quite a shine to him, Professor." Myrna said.
"I admit I have."
"How will Rook react?" She asked.
"Im not sure, truthfully. But she's due back today so we shall know soon enough."
~~~~
Emmrich was more nervous than he was when he proposed to Tess. The baby was napping in their room and he was trying to write a report on spirit activity in the Necropolis, but all he could think of was what her reaction was going to be. An hour later he gave up entirely on the report and made some tea instead. Emmrich heard the turn of a key in the door and Tessora walked in smelling like sea air and sunshine.
"Darling, you're home!" He said making his way to her.
"I missed you, Emmrich. " Tess replied, wrapping her arms around his neck and greeting him with her lips on his.
He couldn't help but wrap his own around her, deepening the kiss. He missed her too.
She had just started to thread her fingers into his hair when the cry of a baby in the next room stopped her in her tracks.
Tessora looked at him with wide eyes. "What was that?"
"Darling, I…"
The baby let out another cry and she went to the door of their room and opened it, pausing in the doorway. "Emmrich? Why is there a baby in our room??"
"Well, you see, Manfred found him." He started to explain.
"Found him?"
"In the tombs, " He continued. "He appears to have been abandoned."
Tessora's attention snapped to his face the moment he said the word.
"Abandoned?" She said much softer.
"Yes." Emmrich moved past her to pick up the baby. "I've been taking care of him for the past few days while we wait for someone from one of the orphanages in the city comes to collect him."
He had come to know enough of her face that he knew she was tensing her jaw at the mention of the orphanage. He knew she wouldn't be keen.
"I promise you that our orphanages are nothing like the one you grew up in, dearest."
Her eyes followed him as he took the baby into the kitchen to make him a bottle. Manfred walked in and clapped when he saw Tessora.
"Tess!!! Baby!!"
"Manfred, could you hold him while I make up a bottle, please?"
~~~~~~
Whatever homecoming Tessora was expecting nothing could have prepared her for this. She was a bundle of emotions. It was plain to see that Emmrich was already attached to this child.
They had discussed children when they got engaged but while she had never said no exactly, she also didn't say yes. Tess had no reservation that Emmrich would make, and already is, a wonderful father. She sees it with Manfred. She's seen it with Taash, Bellara, and Jacobus. She sees it in the domestic scene before her.
The problem was her. What did she know about being a mother? Absolutely nothing. Her own mother didn't want her. The woman who ran the orphanage certainly didn't act like a mother, at least Tess didn't think that was what mothers were supposed to be like.
She watched Manfred hold the baby while Emmrich moved about the kitchen with efficiency. "Baby!" Manfred shouted proudly.
Tess couldn't help but smile. "Was there a note or anything found with him?" She asked.
"Nothing at all. We searched the area immediately and found no trace of who left him. No reports of an abduction either. He was simply…left." Emmrich took the baby and sat down at the table to give him his bottle.
"Where did you get all these baby things?"
"Oh, I know a former student who recently had a baby and she was very helpful in getting me started."
Watching Emmrich with this baby was making her feel things that she didn't know what to do with. She didn't know she'd find him just as attractive with a baby as she does when he's casting spells or teaching a class.
"You said the orphanage was coming to get him? When exactly?"
"I believe someone should be here tomorrow. So he will only be our guest for one more night it seems." Tessora could hear the sadness in his voice. Yeah, he was definitely attached.
"Oh." Somehow that revelation made her sad.
"Darling, I…"
"You want us to keep him. To raise him as our child, don't you?"
Emmrich looked at her and then back down at the baby. "The thought has crossed my mind…several times. I know you have said that you didn't want to be a mother and I respect your wishes."
"Emmrich, it's because I'm afraid." She confessed. "I've always been afraid that whatever caused my mother to take one look at me and throw me away, made it's way into me. I never felt that, what do they call it, maternal instinct. So I just assumed that since my mother didn't feel it, that I didn't either."
"But Darling, you don't know if your mother was forced to leave you or if something happened to her. She may not have wanted to give you up."
"I know but these feelings have always been there. Then I met Taash and just started feeling protective of them. Same thing with Bellara and with Jacobus. Then I fell in love with a necromancer and started feeling protective of his skeleton son. Isabela told me it was because I was feeling maternal. I told her she was crazy but turns out maybe she was right?"
"Tessora, when Taash calls us the "mom and dad of the group" they aren't fully joking, you know. They have come to look to you as a mother figure." He reached over to squeeze her hand.
"I am no replacement for Shathann." Tess countered.
"No, but you have been mothering Taash more than you realize. And Manfred here."
Manfred clapped upon hearing his name. "Tess!!" He said enthusiastically. "Baby!"
"I see you are not the only one already attached." Tess couldn't help but chuckle as Manfred started a game of peekaboo with the baby.
"Manfred has taken quite an interest in him. Only natural for a spirit of curiosity."
Tess was starting to feel overwhelmed and anxious. "I know I just got home, but I need to think. I'm going to go for a walk." She kissed Emmrich on her way out and touched the baby's hair. He really was an adorable baby and he looked perfectly content in Emmrich's arms. Tessora knew that feeling.
She left their apartment and made her way to the memorial gardens. She was sitting on one of the benches near Emmrich's parents when she noticed Vorgoth making his way up the path towards her. Tess didn't usual see him in the garden and the last time she did, he was scolding her and Emmrich for doing something they probably shouldn't have been doing in the gardens.
"YOU HAVE RETURNED."
"Just got back today actually." She explained.
"YET YOU SEEM TROUBLED." How Vorgoth managed to convey concern with such a deep booming voice and no face, she wasn't sure.
"I, um, didn't expect to come home to such a surprise. I like the gardens so I came here to think."
"YOU SPEAK OF THE CHILD. IT WOULD THRIVE UNDER THE GUIDANCE OF THE VOLKARINS."
It took Tessora a moment to realize that he was including her when he spoke of "The Volkarins". They had been married only a short time and she was still getting used to it.
"You really think so?" She asked genuinely.
"THE PROFESSOR IS ONE OF OUR BEST AND YOU LED THE FIGHT AGAINST GODS AND WON. ANY YOU TAKE UNDER YOUR WING WOULD BE MADE BETTER FOR IT."
Tess stared at the shadowy spirit for several unblinking seconds. "Vorgoth that is one of the nicest compliments I've ever heard. I could hug you."
"PLEASE RESTRAIN YOURSELF."
Tessora burst out laughing. "Thank you for making me feel better and giving me food for thought."
"THERE IS ANOTHER HAUNTING IN THE NECROPOLIS I MUST SEE TO. GOOD DAY, ROOK."
Before returning home, Tess, stopped by the graves of Emmrich's parents to say hello. She wonders if Emmrich knows that she talks to them when he isn't with her. Tess ran her fingers over the names engraved on the headstones. "I suppose a few more Volkarins in the world isn't a bad thing?"
Emmrich had dinner laid out for them when she got back to their apartment. Or rather the Necropolis chefs had delivered it. Neither of them were good cooks, as Lucanis will never let them forget.
"Dearest, I really am sorry to have blindsided you with this. I did not have a way of reaching you at sea. It was not my intent - "
Tessora held up her hand. "Emmrich, it's okay. I know you didn't do this on purpose. We should see if Archon Pavus can make us sending crystals like he and the Inquisitor have. Honestly, I would have told you to take care of the baby while you waited for the orphanage anyway."
Manfred was keeping the baby entertained while they ate. Tessora kept looking over at them and couldn't keep herself from smiling. That warm feeling she always gets around Emmrich and her found family was intensifying.
"Dorian is keeping their creation rather close to his chest. Let us talk of your latest adventure though. How fared your voyage?" Emmrich asked with interest.
She spent the rest of dinner telling him about her latest job for the Lords and he filled her in on his classes and the gossip around the Necropolis. The baby was content in Emmrich's arms and seemed to listen to him just as intently as she was. Tessora hadn't asked to hold him herself and Emmrich hadn't asked her either. Things were getting clearer in her mind but Tess was still a little afraid. She loved Domneth's kids and never had any issues beind around them, so why was this different? She ignored her inner voice, that always sounded like Isabela, saying "You know why."
__
Tess woke up just as the baby started to fuss. She glanced over at Emmrich who was fast asleep. She got out of bed and went over to the makeshift crib. Tessora reached down and picked him up taking him into their sitting room. He was a light and squirmy thing.
She changed him and wrapped him a blanket. Tessora sat down with him in Emmrich's favorite chair and he stared up at her with his brilliant blue eyes.
"I was abandoned too, you know." She spoke softly. "I grew up in a horrible place. Wondering why my mother left me there. Why she didn't want me. After a while, I stopped thinking about her and just hoped a new family would come and adopt me. They never came though."
The baby reached up a hand to her face and she tilted her chin down so he could touch it. She felt a tear roll down her cheek.
"I know that the orphanages here are different…better. But will you also grow up waiting for a family that might not come? I found a family with Emmrich and Manfred, maybe you can too, little one? Emmrich already is a wonderful father, but I don't know if I'd be a good mother. I had no good example. But…I'd make sure you had the things I didn't. You wouldn't have to fight for more food. You'd have clothes that are clean and fit you. You wouldn't have to sleep on a dirty floor."
He cooed and she couldn't help but melt at his sweet face. "And you'd learn how to sail a ship." She whispered conspiratorially. He yawned and she bundled him a little tighter in the blanket and quietly starting singing a shanty.
~~~~
Emmrich woke up to find his wife missing and the baby not in his crib. He immediately got up to search for them but was not prepared for the sight that greeted him in the sitting room: Tessora holding the baby in her arms and singing softly to him.
It made his heart swell to see it. He recognized the tune she was singing, it was the same one she sang for him when he had woken in the middle of the night seized by his dreadful fear while they still lived at the Lighthouse. They had only just started to explore their feelings at that point. She had heard him shouting and burst into his room, holding him until his shaking subsided and sat with him in front the fireplace with his head in her lap, softly stroking his hair. Then she sang to him. Soft and low, but beautiful. It calmed him so much that he thought perhaps she did have magic in her. But it was just Tessora.
She looked up as he entered the room and gave a crooked smile. The baby was asleep in her arms. "Darling, you should have woken me." He said quietly.
"You looked so peaceful. Besides I do know how to change a nappy." He must have looked surprised because she added, "Domneth has 5 kids. No one sets foot in their house without pitching in. His wife, Illia, showed me how."
Emmrich moved to kneel in front of her. "You know, Tess, for someone who thinks they aren't maternal, you certainly look like a natural right now."
Even in the low light, he could tell a blush was forming.
"When I was a kid, I waited and waited for a family to come take me away. To be wanted…to belong. No one ever came. We could keep him from all that. Be his family, I mean. Maybe?"
"What are you saying, darling?"
"We should adopt him." She said softly.
Emmrich couldn't help the tears that were forming in his eyes as he looked at her and the baby. "Darling, are you sure?"
She glanced down at the sleeping bundle in her arms. "Yeah, I am. Are you ready for a new kind of adventure, Professor?"
"Dearest, with you by my side, I am always ready."
Gotta ask. Sabriel - did you name her after the Garth Nix book???
Oooh, thanks for the ask!
Absolutely it is! I read the books as a teen and absolutely fell in love with the world and the Abhorsen family. Sabriel became my go to name for most things, and has since evolved in meaning for me over the decades. 😆
I hadn't heard this word before but fell in love with it right away trying to decide how to use it. A sweet moment written here where Sabriel basks in the warmth that Emmrich has brought to her life.
It begins with sunlight—soft, golden, drifting through the thinning canopy like warmth remembered. Sabriel isn’t sure how long she’s been watching him. Her charcoal has long since stilled in her hand, the sketch on her lap abandoned in favor of something far more compelling.
Emmrich stands a little ways off, deep in conversation with Neve and Bellara over some old Tevinter text they'd unearthed that morning. His voice carries gently, each word precise without sounding sharp, patient without losing momentum. He listens as much as he speaks, often tilting his head just slightly when someone else talks—genuinely interested, always generous with his attention.
Lucanis lingers nearby, arms crossed, skepticism written all over his face, while Spite pretends not to listen at all. But Emmrich—Maker bless him—draws them both in without force. He never commands. He invites. One calm suggestion, one well-placed observation, and the next thing she knows, Lucanis and Spite are trading insights instead of barbs.
Emmrich simply smiles. That subtle, private smile she’s come to know so well—the kind that speaks more of quiet pride than personal credit.
She watches the way his hands move as he speaks: careful, articulate, dusted faintly with ink. The way a strand of his carefully brushed hair has curled just slightly at the edges in the afternoon warmth. His shoulders bear the weight of too many sleepless nights and too much knowledge, yet still manage to carry something gentle in the way he holds himself.
Sabriel exhales slowly, heart catching in her throat.
He is, in every sense of the word, beautiful. Not just in the curve of his mouth or the line of his jaw, though she has traced both with her fingers more times than she can count. He is beautiful in the way he steadies people without asking for anything in return. In the way he chooses softness again and again, not out of weakness, but out of strength forged through grief and healing. He is kindness without naivety. Strength without ego. A scholar with dirt under his nails and the sort of heart that never stops offering space for others.
She hadn’t known what to call it at first. That rare kind of comfort. That heat that settles deep in the bones.
But now, watching him speak quietly with Bellara while Lucanis finally offers Spite a nod of reluctant approval, Sabriel understands.
It’s apricity.
The warmth of the sun in winter.
He is that warmth—for her. After so many years of cold. After so many battles fought alone, so many smiles worn like armor, he is the rare heat that doesn’t burn or demand. He simply exists. Present, constant, quietly radiant.
Emmrich turns slightly, catching her gaze. He offers her a small, knowing look—one brow raised in gentle amusement, as if he knows she's been watching this whole time.
She doesn’t look away.
In that shared glance, the noise of the camp fades. The weight she so often forgets she’s carrying lifts. She basks in the warmth, in the apricity that has come into her life.
I feel like Taash would get Manfred a lizard for his lil family of friends he’s building.
One of those massive chonky babies you find on the Rivain beach or the Hossberg wetlands 😁
Emmrich would take to his bed 🤣
You Monster. 💜
Manfred was excited. That wasn’t unusual, Manfred got excited about a lot of things. How could he not when there were so many new things to explore and experience in the world?
But right now he was so excited he was literally hopping up and down.
“Wow,” said Taash, looking pleased with themself. “Hold your kneecaps, Fred. It’s not that incredible.”
“BIG!” Manfred exclaimed, clutching his phalanges together.
“Yeah, it’s big,” Taash let the enormous sack slide from her shoulder with a grunt, like she was delivering presents at Wintersend. “But I think you’ll like it. I saw it and thought of you.”
“Me!”
Taash shrugged, “Yeah, sure. You’re always helping everybody out. Lace too. Thought you deserved something nice.”
With a teakettle hiss of excitement, Manfred dropped to his kneecaps and reached for the closed mouth of the sack.
The bag was a thick, leather affair, made for hauling weapons and other heavy supplies. Even pooled on the ground it was huge, and little trails of mud and slime leaked out of the seams.
Taash stood with folded arms, looking very pleased with themself, as Manfred’s clever finger bones picked apart the knot, and opened the sack.
The skeleton looked inside, and gasped, which sounded more like a wheeze. He let the bag fall open to reveal an enormous, brown, slug like lizard.
“Do you like it?” Taash asked, scuffing a boot along the floor.
Manfred’s jawbone moved up and down for a few moments, at a loss for words, before he finally hissed out, “Chonky.”
Taash laughed and scratched the back of their head. “Yeah, they come that way. It’s gonna get a lot bigger though. That one’s only a baby.”
Manfred’s emerald goggles swiveled up to the dragonslayer. They were rotated at an acute angle that indicated high emotion.
“Baby?”
Taash shuffled their feet. “Yeah, but don’t worry. It’s pretty hardy. It doesn’t need it’s tama anymore.”
Manfred looked back down at the lizard.
“Chonky baby!” he exclaimed.
The creature raised it’s muddy yellow eyes at him and hissed in reply.
Gently Manfred lowered his head to rest on the thing’s enormous slimy back.
“Chonky baby,” he cooed in rapture, gently stroking along it’s skin.
They were interrupted by a clatter on the stairs.
“Taash, I’ve been meaning to speak with you. Do you know where…” Emmrich stopped, mid stride down the spiral staircase.
The necromancer looked at Taash, and then at his skeleton ward, draped over the sludgy, fat lizard, stroking it like it was a golden retriever, and hissing sweet nothings to it.
The multitude of scrolls he’d been holding fell in a cascade from his arms.
Emmrich turned sharply to the left, pulled one of the books on the bookcase by the fireplace, strode into his bedroom, and shut the secret door firmly behind him.
No pressure tags to @daughterofthesunlands, @valar-did-me-wrong, @xximmortalkissxx, @numenoria, @inkdusth, @fantasyquests, @wowstrawberrycow, @queenmeriadoc, @self-destructinganimal, @underthemexicansun, and anyone who wishes to play!
Thanks for the tags @numenoria, @wowstrawberrycow, @adarssuggestionbox & @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88!
The horrors persist, but...
so do the little treats we choose to give ourselves. Whether as a reward, as comfort, or simply to add a little spark of joy to our day... In those moments, we choose to offer that little kindness to ourselves. And that is a beautiful thing 💝
Tagging with zero pressure as always: @lady-of-imladris, @vellichormybeloved, @fireheartedpup, @thebestbobaflavour, and anyone else who would like to join!
so do the sound of trees rustling in the wind and dandelion seeds floating through the air on a sunny day. There's always something beautiful to behold when you care to look.
Tagging: @wilvarin-chan, @cute-ellyna, @waterdeep-weavemoss, @motleymercurialmarionette. No pressure. :)
so do I. In a world torn asunder by strife and division, I choose love and acceptance. We will outlive, we will outlast, we will see a the dawn of this seemingly endless night.
Thanks for the tag @wolfsong-the-bloody-beast I will never skip a chance to be dramatic, lol
Little love and no pressure tags for @thedissonantverses @hightowerqueen @mythals-whore @pixiedurango @himluv and anyone else who wants to join in, I want to see what you guys come up with! 💖
Oooh, I haven't done one of these before! Thank you @seaglassmelody for tagging me! (Sorry I don't often tag others, I feel like I'm pretty late to the games so don't want to tag people too many times if they've already been tapped 😅. So if you see this and want to do it and haven't been tagged yet, consider it me tagging you to join in!)
I gave a little bit more than the last line for a little more context (because I feel like it's turning out really good so far!!)
The Spirit of Regret.
It had fed on elven gods for centuries. And now it knew her name.
“You are not worthy,” it said, in the voices of the dead. “You could have saved them. But you waited. You failed, and now you belong to me.”
Wind screamed through the Fade. Not air—but emotion. Shame, guilt, love turned to pain. Each gust came with a face.
Sabriel staggered forward anyway.
A glimpse into Sabriel's childhood with the Mercar family. (It's sad, you've been warned! But this is why Emmrich, wonderful man that he is, means so much to her.)
The Mercar Household – A Lesson in Silence
The drawing room of House Mercar glows with candlelight and status. Music hums faintly from a lyrium-stringed harp in the corner, played more for atmosphere than enjoyment. A server—elven, older, and from one of the visiting houses—pours wine into tall crystal flutes as nobles shift in their high-backed chairs, draped in silks, discussing the state of the empire with the kind of certainty only power affords.
Sabriel stands still beside the hearth, perfectly positioned. She is ten years old, too young for politics, too old for true innocence. Her hands are clasped at the small of her back—calloused from the training yard, knuckles pink from this morning’s drills. Her hair has been brushed smooth and bound with a thin silver cord that matches her simple formal dress.
She is not family, but she is expected to be seen. Her presence intended to remind the other children to behave by example. Show how to impress visitors with her restraint. The other children eye her from the table. She doesn't play with them, and they may not give her orders like the servants. She is something else.
Lady Mercar notices the glance a guest sends Sabriel’s way and tilts her head ever so slightly—an invitation.
“She’s our ward,” the Lady says lightly, as though describing a particularly clever hound. “A reminder to the others that excellence has no excuse.”
A tall, wiry man in a red-trimmed robe smiles into his wine. “Sharp posture for one so young. A promising candidate for the academy, in a few years.”
“We’ve considered it,” the Lady replies, one brow arching just so. “She takes to discipline. Quite useful. Though I don't know where the Legatus finds these. We had one before but they had a terrible temper. We had to send them away. This one suits us much better.”
Sabriel says nothing. She stares straight ahead and tries very hard to hear any other conversation happening other than this one. Her spine straightens by a fraction when she feels the Legatus’s eyes on her from the head of the second table. She doesn’t shift her gaze.
“Useful,” someone echoes back at the Lady Mercar’s table, and there is laughter again—low and knowing.
Talk drifts, inevitably, to trade and war and policy. Someone mentions the Soporati, another the waning influence of southern Tevinter provinces but eventually, the conversation lands where it always does when wine is flowing and no elven Magister is present.
The old wars. Tevinter’s place in the world and where others fit into that ideal.
“They built their empires on magic and myth,” a magistrate scoffs, swirling his glass. “We outlasted the elven civilization by building ours on discipline.”
“And blood,” another adds, toasting. “And history. History written by those strong enough to claim it.”
The words strike something deep and quiet inside Sabriel, but she doesn’t blink. She hates that guest most of all. She keeps her eyes on the far wall—on the embossed crest of House Mercar above the fireplace. A pair of wings split by a blade.
She wonders, briefly, what her original family’s crest might have been. If they had one. Did elven families have crests?
- - -
Later, long after the guests have retired or been escorted away, Sabriel makes her way through the dim corridors. The house is quiet, golden light fading into shadow. She passes the study. The door is open just enough.
Inside, Charon Mercar is still dressed in his formal robes, the red sash of his rank draped neatly across one shoulder. He doesn’t look up from the letters spread before him. “You held the line tonight.” he says, voice calm, clipped.
Sabriel stands in the doorway.
“Yes, Legatus.”
He finally glances up. His eyes—steel-gray, unreadable—land on her with a flicker of something that might be approval. “The things they say at those tables…some of those guests…” he begins, then stops himself. “Some truths are better argued away from the parlor. In places where they can really matter…but you know that already.”
“I do.”
“You made the house proud.”
She nods.
“That will be all.”
He does not smile but there is no disappointment in his voice either. In the world of the Legatus Charon Mercar, that is warmth.
- - -
Sabriel walks to her room in silence. The stone beneath her bare feet is cold, but familiar. Her room is tidy. A comfortable cot. A small desk. A shelf with a few training manuals and a silver practice dagger she’s been told not to lose. The moonlight filtering through a small window basks the space in blue tinged light.
She doesn’t bother lighting a candle.
She peels off the dress carefully, folds it, and drapes it over the chair. Her fingers ache from the grip she’d maintained all evening.
She sits on the floor, back to the wall. Knees drawn in to huddle into herself. The Legatus is not unkind. His wife was…tolerable, though Sabriel had spent some training days imagining what it might be like to make her sit in silence at one of these parties.
Sabriel shakes her head to clear the thoughts. Box it away.
She looks up to the moonlight and for a moment, the way it catches soft on the edges of clouds stirs a faint memory. A softer voice—not Lady Mercar’s, not the Legatus’s. A quiet voice, singing in a language she hasn’t heard since she was very small. She only vaguely understood the words. A cradle-song? A lullaby? She isn’t sure if it was ever real.
The memory slips before she can catch it.
Her throat tightens. The weight of the evening presses into her chest like armor she can’t take off.
Tears come slowly. She presses her face to the sleeve of her nightshirt and keeps quiet, the way she’s learned to be. No sobbing. No sound.
