29. she/they. a collection of everything i love. but right now that's mostly mass effect, dragon age, and dimension 20. loves fiction of any kind. & space. the stars are beautiful
happy thedasweekend! 🥰 okay, i gotta go ahead and request ghilan'nain/andruil! maybe with the romance (taylor's version) prompt: "i want your complications too."
I need to thank you so much for this! I had a collection of loose ideas knocking around in my head that I wanted to use somehow and your prompt just made them all click into place, thank you! I think some variant of this ficlet might work its way into my longfic? But for now, this should work as a standalone.
Some context: the inspo for this was your lovely prompt (ofc) + a line Solas has in his fight with Elgar'nan ("Once the blight is free, it will rule this world, and you will be its attack dog. You will burn this world at its command, as Andruil did at yours, and you will leave only ruin behind you.") + the symbolism of Andruil being represented by a hawk + also the possibility that her name was derived from Andúril, Aragorn's sword in LOTR.
For @thedasweekend
Rating: T
Ship: Andruil/Ghilan'nain
Word-count: 1005
tw: violence, blood
The People prayed to either Mythal or to Elgar’nan when they sought revenge, and it depended heavily on the kind that they hoped for. Mythal’s vengeance was cold, calculated, and exacting. Hers was the knowledge that she had all of eternity to look forward to, and with a flick of her wrist she could ensure that you did not.
Elgar’nan, on the flip-side, had more of a flare for the dramatics. His vengeance was all fire, angry and passionate, fury beyond measure. And when he didn’t have the time or, perhaps, inclination to deliver it himself, he would send her. His sword.
It was why she was pulled from the Fade in the first place. He couldn’t be in two places at once, and he had needed a general. Someone to lead his armies in one battle while he fought in another. And it hadn’t ended with the war against the Titans, it never ended in the shallow spells of peace between the Evanuris and those who would become The Forgotten Ones.
She was a god, with her own temples, followers, slaves, armies. And still, when he called, she came. A trained bird, given just enough free rein to feel unencumbered, sent out on his whims to attack his targets at his command- and yet always, she came back to his hand.
And it was fine. Mostly, it was fine. Her role wasn’t to question, to think, to pass judgement in these situations. She was a weapon to be wielded, a flaming avenger, burning bright, sent out by the Sun-tamer to see his will delivered.
But some days, his will was cruel even by her misguided reckoning. Sometimes she was set upon those she would sooner spare, breaking into homes to deliver his righteous fury upon people she would herself have sided with, cornering them in spaces they had once thought themselves safe and delivering swift, just deaths that were not in any way artful, creative, did not provide her with the chase she craved and the adrenaline rush it brought with it. And always she was unflinching, all through the act itself, holding the pieces of herself together until she was alone and could shatter in private.
And so she sat, knees pulled to chest, face hidden, folded in on herself and trembling in the aftermath.
She heard Ghilan’nain coming, would recognise the sound of her footsteps against the forest floor just as she would her own name. How she found her, she wasn’t sure. It was possible Elgar’nan had told her where she would be. All she would’ve needed to do was ask sweetly, flutter those long, deer-like lashes of hers. He, like his favourite general, would rearrange the stars at Ghilan’nain’s request. He was fond of her, protective, and it was… nice. Like a father ought to be, perhaps, if any of them knew how that was supposed to look.
She was aware of Ghilan’nain falling down to sit beside her on the forest floor.
“Do you wish to talk about it?” she asked.
“No,” Andruil replied, voice muffled by her knees, because she couldn’t spare Ghilan’nain from all the horrors of the world but she could shield her from this.
She felt Ghilan’nain lean into her, resting her head against the back of her shoulder. It was so improbably tender, in a way that clashed ferociously with the drying blood caked into her fingernails, splattered across her face.
“Ghilan’nain,” she said on an inhale, fighting to keep her voice steady as her throat and chest burned with the desire to just cry. “Da’ghil, you deserve…” Better.
“Hmm?” Ghilan’nain shifted beside her, lifting her head momentarily to adjust her hair before returning it to its rightful place. “I deserve…. what?” There was a lightness in her voice that made Andruil’s heart lurch anew, because she knew that if she looked at her, she’d see her teasing smile, and she didn’t feel worthy of it, of this, of her.
“I could have a palace built for you,” Andruil said, clutching her knees tighter. “Somewhere far away, peaceful. Somewhere nice.”
“And what would I do there?” Ghilan’nain asked, with a small, imperceptible sigh that Andruil only caught because she was so close. “It sounds ever so dull.”
“You could do anything you wanted. I’d provide everything you’d need to be happy.”
“Everything but you, I presume.”
She didn’t respond, and felt Ghilan’nain shift beside her, moving to wrap a slender arm around her shoulders.
“I love you,” Ghilan’nain said. “And I trust you, and I choose you. And if you send me away, I will find you. If you kill me out of some misguided attempt to spare my heart, I will haunt you for the rest of your days.” Her free hand snaked around to rest atop Andruil’s, and it was all she could to do keep from sobbing. Fingers practised in the art of creation, capable of drawing life forward as others drew portraits, slipped between those honed in the name of destruction.
“Would that you knew what I had done,” Andruil said.
“I do not care.”
“It wasn’t pretty.” A half-hearted attempt to make her see.
But she just hummed, snuggling closer, holding the pieces of Andruil together with her embrace. “I don’t expect it was.”
She kept a-hold of her, for as long as it took for Andruil to eventually lift her head from the sanctuary her knees provided. Ghilan’nain ran her thumb over the back of her hand, squeezed her shoulder with the other, and did not even flinch at the tear-streaked gore she knew still lay on her skin.
“You are mine,” Ghilan’nain said, lifting her head to rest her forehead against hers. “And I am yours. Whatever you do.”
Andruil exhaled slowly. “I am yours, as you are mine.”
Ghilan’nain smiled, brighter and more captivating than Elgar’nan’s sun could ever be. She removed her hand from Andruil’s shoulder to cup her cheek. “My god,” she whispered.
“My favourite,” Andruil replied reverently, and pressed her lips to hers.
Veilguard appreciation week day 5, for the prompt Arlathan Forest.
@veilguard-appreciation-week
This is the story of how I dyed
Summary: How my Rook, Esha, came to join the veil jumpers.
==
After the tragic death of both her parents, Esha Aldwir traveled with the remnants of her clan to Arlathan forest.
Once there, she was reunited with her last living relative, her grandmother. Esha was energetic as a teen. She helped out her grandmother but still needed to be busy. She was used to the rigors of constantly moving and traveling, and her grandmother lived in a village. Esha was able to make friends in the village pretty easily. However, she was not used to staying in one place for so long. Because of this she started going out into the forest at a young age, influencing her new friends to join her. Without knowing or even having met the veil jumpers, she started exploring ruins and finding old elvhen artifacts.
She was lucky that she encountered mostly harmless artifacts to start. She was very curious about them and studied the ones she found. Her methods were what even veil jumpers would likely consider unconventional, but she was successful in learning to disable/calm them on her own. Her grandmother suspected Esha was exploring ruins as weird little items started collecting in their house. But she was happy Esha seemed to be staying out of trouble and enjoying her new friends, so didn’t try to stop her. That is, until Esha found an artifact that she wasn’t able to turn off.
==
It was an idyllic day out in Arlathan Forest. Which is to say it was a typical day. Esha was out with a group of 4 other young elves from the village. None of them were as interested in exploring the ruins as she was, but they indulged her. Usually they had Esha telling stories of when she lived with her nomadic clan back in the Emerald Graves and Exalted Plains. She wasn’t sure why they enjoyed her stories so much, but she humored them so they’d continue joining her on adventures in the ruins.
The gang was in what appeared to be an old temple. But it could have been any building really. They had no true way of knowing. Esha guessed temple based on a series of faded murals on the wall. One in particular caught her eye. One elf was kneeling before another, with their head bowed and hand outstretched. The standing elf had few distinguishing features left, but they were depicted as glowing, she was sure of that. And they too had their hand outstretched towards the kneeling elf, and in their palm was a small cube.
The next few panels showed the kneeling elf taking the cube, holding it to their chest, and then finally standing and smiling. But she couldn’t tell why. What had the cube done for the elf to make them so happy? She was studying this final scene when one of her friends called out to her.
“Esha! We found something. It looks boring but is definitely behind a magical shield.”
She joined the others and was surprised to see the cube from the murals. It wasn’t very elaborate, but the ancient mural artist had depicted it quite accurately. “Oh wow! It’s the artifact from that mural right over there. That almost never happens,” she said enthusiastically.
She found that the cube was mesmerizing to stare at. She didn’t want to stop looking at it. Someone was saying something to her, but she wasn’t listening. She was focused on figuring out how to get the shield around the cube to turn off.
“Esha!” Her friend said again. “Listen to me!” Esha finally turned her gaze away from the cube and gave her attention to the other girl.
“Sorry. What were you saying?” Esha asked, needing to physically turn away from the cube to focus on listening.
“I said, it’s unusual to find items depicted in murals still in the same building. Let alone right with the mural. And still under a magical shield. It feels like it must be left here for a reason. I don’t think we should touch it, Esha.”
Esha hummed a response. It felt like the cube was calling out, just for her. She turned her attention back to it. Even so, she still managed to hear the frustrated groan of her friend. It didn’t matter though. Esha needed to get her hands on this cube.
She started examining the area around the pedestal. Looking for switches or power crystals. She found a series of 4 pressure plates, and had the others each stand on one. When they all were activated, a panel on the wall opened, revealing a power crystal in a stand.
“Aha! There you are,” she said as she reached for the crystal.
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea…” her friend trailed off.
Esha looked back over her shoulder. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I’ll remove the crystal, but keep it close. If anything gets weird, I’ll put it right back and we’ll get out of here. I’ve calmed all the other things we’ve found. This one looks harmless!” While her statement about her record with artifacts was true, she left out that the cube was calling even more strongly to her now.
The others seemed placated for the moment. “Ready?” Esha asked. And the others only nodded, while looking like they were ready to make a run for it, which was normal. Esha was the bold one of the group.
She reached out for the power crystal and with a firm tug, pulled it out. The shield winked out. She released the crystal, letting it hover beside her. Nothing seemed to happen, so the others got off their plates and came to peer over her shoulders
Slowly, reverently, she reached out for the cube. Nothing appeared to happen when her fingers touched it, so she picked it up. Nothing external seemed to be happening, so she pulled it close to cradle it to her chest, like the mural. The others stayed quiet, watching. To Esha, it felt as though the cube was asking her something. Only she didn’t know exactly what. The elf in the mural ended the panels smiling. What was something that made her smile? She thought about her favorite flower, cosmos, and the time when she’d been maybe ten and found an entire field of them, deep magenta blooms as far as she could see. Her mother wove a flower crown and placed it atop Asha’s head. It was a memory that she held very dear, and she found herself hugging the cube tighter and smiling.
“Esha. Esha, the cube is blinking,” someone said. But she didn’t hear their words, just a little bit of sound that she ignored as she continued to enjoy the precious memory.
“Esha! It’s blinking faster. It’s time to put it back!” They cautioned. Still though, Esha hugged the cube with her eyes shut tight.
The others were too afraid to touch her, lest they get sucked into whatever had her so mesmerized. They decided it was time to put distance between themselves and Esha. They all started backing away, towards where they’d entered the ruin. All the while, yelling Esha’s name, unable to break the cubes spell.
The flashing was more rapid, nearly a solid light. They ran out into the forest as far as they dared, leaving Esha alone with the cube. The light grew stronger as it became more steady, and the brightness finally got Esha to open her eyes. She was surprised to see it, but it was too late. There was a pop of a small explosion and the cube put out a cloud of dense smoke.
Esha coughed, but was otherwise unharmed. She couldn’t see past the end of her nose, so through the coughs she called out, “I’m all right! I need to wait for the smoke to clear before I can put the cube back and get out of here.” Her friends were relieved to hear her, but called back that they’d wait outside for her, just to be safe.
After a few minutes the smoke had dissipated enough that she was able to return both the cube and power crystal. Looked herself over. She felt the same as ever and didn’t see anything unusual. Perhaps the cube was only for reliving happy memories. It was strange that such a nice artifact was left here. But the lights and smoke were enough to convince her to let to stay here for now.
She walked back to the path that they’d taken to get here, and spotted the others. “Hey. Seems that artifact was all about the show. Nothing happened to me,” she said when she was close, and took one last look back at the building. Were the leaves of the trees around it always that color? She turned back to see her friends gaping at her.
She scrunched her brow. “What? I said I was fine.”
“Oh but Esha!” One girl said and grabbed her hand. She practically drug her to the nearby river. “Look!” She demanded.
Esha leaned over and was shocked to find that her hair had turned the exact magenta shade as the cosmo flowers from her memory. Dazed, she reached up and rubbed the curls between her fingers. Nothing came off. Her hair was PINK. Fighting the panic rising in her chest, she dunked her head in the water and scrubbed. When she looked again, the water remained clear and her hair unchanged. She sighed and dropped her chin to her chest. There was no way she could hide this for long. She’d just have to tell her grandmother what happened.
She was still damp when she arrived home. Her grandmother stayed silent as she recounted the days events. Mamaela simply shook her head and said “Come.” Esha had no choice but to follow her.
Mamaela took Esha to the center of the village, where a small group of elves all dressed in similar brown tones and wearing packs were gathered. She marched straight to their leader and said “Strife! I know you said she was too young. But look what happened today. This could have been so much worse! You must teach her the right way to deal with these artifacts!”
Strife shook his head while appraising Esha’s bright pink curls, as if he were already tired. “Welcome to the veil jumpers Esha.”
==
Authors note: special thanks to @fenxshiral for sharing the elvhen word for grandma, mamaela.
This was super fun to write. I gave her pink hair in character creator because I loved it. But no way is a veil jumper realistically able to upkeep dying their hair such a color lol. So she had a little mishap with an artifact instead.
Also thanks also to my sister @blackwall-my-tiny-husband who makes me text post memes with my Rook.
I have not played a lot with Hissra, as I am too lost in Emmrich Sauce, but he's supposed to be a Hardingmancer, and a survivor of the Dairsmuid Circle Annulment. He and Harding keep each other grounded with love and compassion, as he grapples with his own personal past, and she with that of her entire people.
Veilguard Appreciation Week Day 3 - Hossberg Wetlands || Hope
I was only planning to do one post for @veilguard-appreciation-week but this morning I woke up with the sudden urge to draw the best little girl in Thedas - Mila!
The first time I played the Siege of Weisshaupt I was so terrified of doing something that was going to get her hurt or killed- I knew how Dragon Age games liked to do things, after all. The fact that she survives and gets to reunite with her father was so incredible to me- it was one of the first big notes in Veilguard that showed me the story was trying to say something different than the previous entries.
The whole Grey Wardens plotline is about rebuilding- rebuilding the order, rebuilding the world after the Blight, bringing the griffons back. And we all know Brona’s Bloom is an obvious symbol of that- the game makes it explicit. But I think Mila herself is also a significant part of that narrative- a little girl in the midst of the worst attack Weisshaupt has ever seen, using her bravery and determination to reunite with her father and SURVIVE. A little girl who represents the future of Thedas, the Wardens, Hossberg itself and she gets to thrive!!
In the idealized version of DA5 that exists in my head, she comes back…….maybe as a party member……..
AN: VEILGUARD SPOILERS AHEAD. This is completely SFW, just a little departure from my usual style to celebrate my one of my favorite companions and my favorite faction. (500 words, just a treat)
*
Codex Entry: The Future of the Wardens
A humble, but widely published letter soliciting recruitment for the Grey Wardens.
Published in 9.53 Dragon, one year following the Fall of Weisshaupt.
It reads:
“I want to start by saying that I’m aware of what some in Thedas are saying — that the Grey Wardens are a dying breed, no longer worth mentioning or sparing a thought for after the destruction of Weisshaupt. Our numbers are fewer than ever I won’t lie. The last few decades have truly thinned our ranks as blights and darkspawn have cropped up across the world.
Our headquarters in the Anderfels may be gone, it’s true. And for many years to come, we will mourn those lost at Weisshaupt. But the Wardens are not and have never been the castle we called home.
Without Weisshaupt what are the Grey Wardens against this ever-evolving blight?
It’s simple.
The Grey Wardens are a hope for Thedas.
The hope that each of us — despite our pasts — are worth a second chance. The hope that across a wide war-torn world of varied religions, races, and beliefs — we might all be one under the same banner. Or that despite our many differences and event he bonds we have broken — we are each of us deserving of being saved.
The Hero of Ferelden stood against the fifth blight not long after her Joining with nothing but a handful on comrades and a hope. She’d never even been to the Anderfels before taking on and defeating an Archdemon. By now, I think most are aware of “Warden Blackwall” of the Inquisition — a man with little hope who never even undertook the Joining, he assumed the mantle as a false identity with and saved the whole damn world.
The Wardens are far from perfect — I won’t run from the truth — the ways we have failed.
Our duty can also be our downfall and we cannot claim to stand for the light without acknowledging that darkness with us. Politics and power struggles have tarnished our name, but still we cling to the very hope that founded this order in the most desperate hours of our ancestors.
We accept all takers, but I won’t disguise that the Warden life isn’t for everyone. The environment can be harsh, the days long, and this job is often thankless. But if you look up at the night sky for more than just stars, if you’re searching from meaning outside of your little corner of the world, or if you’ve ever wanted to be part of a greater — maybe the greatest— whole, it might be for you.
Join or not, but know the Grey Wardens stand ready — whether we’ve got 5 or 500 amongst our numbers. Against darkness, against the blight, we keep the faith and hold on to the hope for Thedas.
Signed First Warden Davrin, Supreme Commander of the Grey Warden HQ in the Hossberg Wetlands”
[Sealed in wax with the Grey Warden crest which seems to have been modified to reflect an adolescent as opposed to mature, griffon]
—
AN: Don’t @ me this is just how I think things go in my own head. Thanks for reading!!!
I finished day 2 piece for Veilguard Appreciation Week earlier today but I was too busy trying to finish the third piece to post earlier. Alas, it will take until tomorrow to complete so I'm posting this now. So, Isabela for Rivain prompt (and maybe Compassion is you think about it).
Pairing: Rook Laidir & Taash
Word Count: 1285 words
CW: discussion about gender, differing gender opinions
For Day 2 of #VeilguardAppreciationWeek, using the prompt 'I like to listen to the waves crash.'
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
The day on the Rivaini Coast was a gray one. The wind picked at the waves, sending droplets soaring before rejoining the choppy sea a few meters away.
Isola was sure it was going to rain any minute. She would rather not get caught in a flash downpour but Taash was still among the rocks. They were questioning a lot lately and Isola knew the pull of the familiar. It was a lot more forgiving than any new place.
As she rounded the corner, Taash was laying on the smooth rock. Their arm slung dramatically across their face. The birds were nesting in the rock cliff to the right of the qunari, twittering at regular intervals. Taash's chest rose and fell erratically, any calm that might've been exuded by their pose dissolved.
Isola unsheathed her swords laying them on the ground before coming to Taash's side. The sound of the metal on rock, roused Taash and they sat up, wiping the back of their hand across their eyes. They adjusted their braid and cleared their throat.
"Rook. I told you to head out without me." Their voice was gravelly as if they had been out here for hours. Which they had been. The dissection of the Warden outpost was long - Bellara, Emmrich, and Davrin were thorough about their cataloging of the fort. Isola stayed in solidarity, keeping eye out for any Antaam. But it had been a little boring. Strike that, a lot boring.
Isola crossed her arms across her chest. "Taash. I'm not going to leave you out here by yourself to do something stupid without me."
That drew a smile out of the qunari. "We do stupid as a team, right?"
"Hell yeah." Isola sat beside Taash crossed-legged, her back against the cliff. "Now, tell me - why are you out here?"
Taash's smile was gone by now, chased away by thoughts Isola wanted to help them with. They were quiet, eyes back on the ocean. Isola watched, noticing the scrunch of their nose, the furrow of their brow. The grey of the day was reflected in the ocean which was then caught in their eyes.
"I like to listen to the waves crash."
Isola smiled softly, knowing the feeling. Years on the boats of the Lords of Fortune made one realize the importance of the sea. Its waves were a blessing, a warning, and a salve to the mind and heart.
"I get that. I like to listen to the rustle of leaves of the forest too." A reminder of her childhood, a sign that the world keeps turning, and a moment of peace.
Taash turned their attention to Isola. "Yeah? And what do you think about when you're under the forest's branches?"
Isola bit the inside of her cheek, trying to decide on whether full honesty was the call here. Was she guessing right to what was on Taash's mind? "Sometimes I think about all the shit that's been thrown at us lately. Other times, I wonder if my clan would be proud of me." She paused, fiddling with a pebble under her palm. She cast her gaze downward. "A couple times I thought about my identity."
"Fuck Rook, really?" They fingered the handle of their axe, a look of distaste crossing their face. "You don't have to talk at me about this."
Isola didn't even blink, she barreled through. "Did you know that I use she/they pronouns?"
Taash blinked at her, their brow near their horns. "What? No one told me; you didn't tell me."
Isola put up her hands in surrender. "Fenedhis lasa. I'm telling you now, Taash."
"But why didn't you tell me before?"
The birds fluttered from their nests, Taash's outburst scattering them to the winds for a little while. Isola looked around at them, their colours standing out against the grey sky.
Her shoulders relaxed, as Isola finally met Taash's eyes. There was such passion behind them. Everything was such a passion for Taash. Even in boredom, they were so aggressively bored.
"I don't advertise it." It was simple, and was the truth.
"Doesn't that seem to defeat the purpose?"
Isola's smile was small, watery even. "You'd think. But it's not always for other people." At Taash's confused stare, Isola chuckled to herself. "I mean it is, pronouns are for other people to use. But I think there is something profound in knowing. It doesn't always have to be told. I know who I am and when I feel comfortable, safe even, I will share it."
Taash's mouth opened and closed, the thoughts seemingly stuck in their throat. Isola waited, even though her tongue itched to continue. She knew that Taash had to understand before they moved on. This was news to them but also this might not be their truth. And they had to push back with Isola to find that out for themself.
"I hate this." Taash spat, the block in their throat gone.
"Hate what?"
"Disagreeing with you."
Isola smiled, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You don't hate it. You always make a fuss."
The teasing didn't land. "This is serious, Rook."
"Oh? Is it?" Isola leaned back on her hand, looking up at Taash's forlorn expression. They needed the push. They needed to figure it out. Or at least start down the path. "Why?"
"Because it's who I am! It's serious!" They huffed, pulling themselves up to standing as they wound up for another go. "You get the luxury of hiding behind your birth pronouns. I don't. I am not a 'she'. I am 'they'. I need to tell every single person this. I have to come out to every person I see. It's fucking hard and I have to share it."
Isola winced. She knew. It was a circular argument she had with herself. That perhaps she was lying to herself. That this 'they' pronoun that she was tacking on wasn't real. This was something she worked through. And would always work through. It may never go away. But it always came back to: it felt right.
"But isn't it worth it, Taash? Doesn't it make you feel seen?" Isola picked herself up from the floor, doing her best to rise to Taash's extraordinary height. "When you hear your loved ones, saying 'they' as you walk out of the room? When Lace is talking to Lucanis in the kitchen and she says, 'You know them; they prefer fish stew over lamb.'"
Their anger deflated, eyes turning glassy. "But not everyone is like that."
"There will always be dicks in the world, Taash. You ask them to respect you and if they say 'no', then we remind them that respect is a two-way street."
Isola didn't disclose that she was scared of those people. She didn't want her identify being poked at. But someone had to be better than her, to take her advice, to be unequivocally themselves. Then perhaps, Isola could be brave enough to try and step outside of her safe circle of people.
When Taash didn't say anything, Isola slapped their shoulder. "It also doesn't have to be all at once. This is new to you, right? Saying it out loud? Maybe just try more with us, with me. Correct us, ask us for help. We're by your side, you know."
In this moment, Rook felt like Taash was younger than they had ever been. The apprehension, the fear of the world. Isola felt very protective of them. Even if Isola couldn't be brave for herself, she would do fend off the dicks for Taash.
Taash met Isola's eyes and nodded. "Pinkie promise?"
Isola nodded, holding out her pinkie. Taash hooked theirs with hers. "Pinkie promise."
Pairing: Assan & Manfred
Word Count: 1555 words
Rating: G
For Day 1 of #VeilguardAppreciationWeek, using the prompt 'Curiosity'.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
The sky swirled with pretty colours. It was a lot different from the Necropolis where Manfred met Emmrich. The colours there were pretty too but there was only a couple of different ones. It was monotone but not in the way a lot of people meant that word. Monotone could be really nice. He was monotone. He liked how his bones shined in the Fade. They reflected all the colours he got to see now.
The light of the sky didn't change like the big ball of fire in Rivain but Manfred knew that it was past the time that Miss Rook - oh, she asked him to call her Auntie Isola. He had to remember and ask her why Auntie was better than Miss!
Hmm...what was he thinking about? Oh yes! Auntie Isola was late. Where could she be? He should find her - but Emmrich asked him not to explore too much without him.
Oh, what to do?
─── ☽ ───
Assan bounded down the steps of him and dad's nest. Dad was out with mom and he was going to go and join them. Dad liked to squawk around without really saying anything but Assan did vaguely remember 'Grand Necropolis' while he was eating his breakfast.
He didn't really like the Grand Necry, it was all spooky stone instead of good, sturdy cliffs. It was green - which is usually his favourite colour - but this green was all bright and sickly. Like it hadn't been warmed in the sun.
But it didn't matter, he was going to follow them and play with them and help them fight the mean skeletons - Assan's head shot up. There was a nice skeleton that would help him!
─── ☽ ───
Squawks erupted from below Manfred. He tottled to the edge and wrapped his skeletal fingers around the railing. Assan was yelling at him. Manfred never really understood him but desperately, desperately wanted to. He tried creaking, hissing, clicking his teeth together - nothing really worked. Assan would just run around, making his feathers big.
But Assan was waving his wing at Manfred. That meant 'come'! Some would use their fingers, some their weapons, but Assan and griffons must use their wings. He will need to write that down in his diary.
Proper documentation was super important he had learned. That's how books were made! He had a whole notebook dedicated to steam and tea.
Manfred ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time. His boots didn't catch and he skidded to a stop beside the griffon. Assan - an arrow, Manfred was told - clicked his beak together and rammed the doors into the Lighthouse open. Assan paused and squawked before disappearing into the dim interior.
Manfred thought for a second about whether this was a good idea but settled on quicker action. As he followed the griffon, the light bulb went off and Manfred was pleased with his initial assessment. Assan was an arrow and he always hit true.
They passed through the Lighthouse without any of the Misters, Misses, Detectives, and Taashs stopping them. Without a second thought, Assan dove through the eluvian. Manfred had a second thought and even a third thought. He wanted to go - there was so much in the Crossroads that was unknown! - but Emmrich asked him to stay. And Manfred loved Emmrich; he listened to Emmrich. His friend knew so much.
But - maybe! - Manfred could find a piece of knowledge Emmrich didn't know. And it would be the best present for the man who always gave him gifts of knowledge.
And with three thoughts through his head, Manfred stepped through the eluvian.
─── ☽ ───
Man was pretty fast. He clicked a lot while he was running. So not good at stealth attacks from above but he kept up with Assan just as well as mom and dad and all their friends. The slowest was Em - his name was too long - but he didn't hold that against Em, he made Man and Man was nice.
But then they came to the path that lead to three of the goopy mirrors that sent them to new places. Assan didn't know the difference between them all. The only thing he could discern were the smells. They all intermingled but he could smell two different seas and the dead. Mom and dad's scents were not there, but that didn't mean much. This inbetween place didn't keep smells from the not between places.
But they were on the right path.
─── ☽ ───
These eluvians were familiar. He remembered the tracings Miss Bellara made and showed him. But Manfred realized he didn't know where they were supposed to be going.
He turned to the griffon, shrugging his shoulders and pointing at all three of the eluvians. The griffon only tilted his head, before squawking and jumping in place.
Manfred cracked all his knuckles as he thought. Assan's ears kept directing to the sound and Manfred wondered how far Assan could hear. He wrote the question down to answer later.
Hmmm...maybe they could just go through one. Maybe if they found Mister Davrin, he could tell Manfred what Assan was looking for. Oh, and Auntie Isola would not be far behind Mister Davrin. They were together a lot now.
Manfred started toward the far left eluvian. The people on the other side would recognize him, get one member of their team, and then help them.
Right?
─── ☽ ───
It was dark and quiet on the other side of the mirror. Assan could smell the sea but this was the sweet sea, not the salty one. This was what Luc and Spite smelled like.
He liked it better when it was busy. Some of the people would give him treats and ruffle his feathers - he did like that.
As he walked with Man, the clacking of the skeleton's bones was much louder. It went against his very nature, especially someplace so still.
Assan stopped and Man followed suit. Assan shook his head and Man fidgeted in place. Assan started walking again and so did Man. Still. So. Loud.
Assan bounced and spun in the air, landing so that he was facing Man and in front of the skeleton. Man slid to a stop, his boots slick against the ground. Assan looked pointedly at his feet and talons. Man mirrored the gesture. Assan took a step backward, silently. Man took a step forward, the cackle of his bones very prevalent.
Assan squawked in annoyance and a body appeared out of the shadows pouncing at Assan.
─── ☽ ───
Manfred watched Assan in slow motion. He was beautiful and quick and deadly. There was a big gray body lumbering toward them. Assan jumped up and over, pushing off the qunari's back with his feet, talons digging deep into the skin.
Did Emmrich know that griffon talons were that sharp? Maybe that could be his knowledge.
The qunari roared. Roared. Taash liked to talk about dragons. Manfred wondered if the roars were the same. Maybe he could ask Taash to roar at the same time as a dragon. Maybe they sounded like a specific dragon...
A warning squawk interrupted Manfred's musings. The qunari turned on him. Oh dear.
Manfred called on the minor defense training Miss Lace gave him before Emmrich said it was not befitting a wisp of his station (he had liked it and Miss Lace still gave him a little bit of instruction). Whipping out his lantern, Manfred swung it upward into the qunari's face. It burst.
The fire was so beautiful, reflecting off of the qunari's very angry eyes.
Assan launched a counterattack and just as a familiar face with feathers much darker than Assan's rounded the corner, the qunari was in an unmoving heap on the floor.
─── ☽ ───
Man was an excellent fighting partner!
─── ☽ ───
Isola's gaze lifted from Myrna's, their conversation halted as an odd trio of beings walked into the main hall of the Necropolis. She would say it was the oddest trio but Isola had brought a lot of combinations of her team here.
Teia's grip on Manfred's hand loosened as they neared Isola, Davrin, and Emmrich.
He ran up to her, chattering away. Manfred squeezed her hand tightly and then brought a fist up to her. A small laugh escaped her lips and she played rock, paper, scissors with her delightful wisp. "Did you come all this way to play that? Did you miss me this morning?" He only clicked his teeth together before handing Emmrich a small book.
"Questions? For me? Excellent, my dear Manfred." Emmrich's eyes raced across the page. "Oh, ho! Not just questions, but some facts. Just extraordinary."
If a skeleton could beam, Isola was sure that was what Manfred was doing.
And then a ball of feathers flew through the air tumbling into her and Davrin as he reached her side. They fell to the stone floor, Assan chirping the whole way down.
"You owe me five gold," Isola sang.
Davrin scrunched up his nose. "You put him up to this." He pulled out his wallet, counting the coins into Isola's outstretched hand.
"I just know my arrow," Isola replied, running her hands behind Assan's ears. "Don't I?"
Davrin's eyes crinkled at the corner. "Assan, we need to work on your listening skills..."
