Alternate Casual Solas Outfit 🌿

thedasweekend prompters i owe you my life these are JUICY

Evening doodle

Chat, i miss him sm

"came back wrong" what about Came Back Afraid. You used to be brave. Too brave maybe, defying the odds at every turn, a fighter, cocky, playing with fire, first to throw yourself at the enemy. Until one day it all caught up to you. You came back, somehow, but now you know all too intimately how it feels to lose, to die, to be destroyed. Now you flinch and freeze and cower at the slightest provocation. Who even are you now if you can't be brave? The grave may have let you go, but the mortal fear still grips you tighter than ever.

The baby's arrival leaves Spite unimpressed.

It is a tiny, noisy, smelly, helpless lump. It takes up all of Rook and Lucanis's time and attention. When Lucanis finally sleeps and Spite gets a turn in their body, the baby shrieks and wakes him up again. For reasons Spite can't understand, Lucanis wants to be around the baby all the time. Lucanis thinks about the baby all the time.

Rook says it will someday be a person. Spite has his doubts. Even when it becomes a slightly larger lump that can move around on its own, it crawls on its hands and knees. It doesn't use its feet. Even Curiosity can use its feet!

Then one night when Spite finally gets to use the body and he's doing flying loops around the ballroom chandelier, he feels something tug at him. It's not magic. It's not a smell or a sound or a shift in the air. He doesn't know what it is, but he thinks he should—or that he did once.

He follows the feeling and, to his surprise, ends up at the baby's room. When he creaks the door open to peek inside, he braces for shrieking, but the baby, though awake, doesn't even seem to notice him. Its dark eyes are fixed firmly on the bars of the strange cage it sleeps in. Its brow is furrowed with tiny lines, and its mouth pulls down in a pursed pout. It reaches out its tiny hands, grabs the bars, and rocks on its fat little knees.

It wants to do something. It's determined to do something.

Spite leans a little further into the room. Something about the scene has him captivated. He practically holds his breath as the baby lets out a grunt of effort and then slowly, painstakingly pulls itself to its feet. With a whoop, Spite dashes to the sleeping cage, wings spread wide, bathing the room in a bright purple glow.

"You used! Your feet!" he exclaims.

The baby's eyes go round, and Spite shrinks back. He remembers the one time he tried to show the baby his wings when it was a smaller lump. It had screamed and screamed, and Rook had asked him not to do it again. The baby's mouth opens, and Spite prepares to flee the body and let Lucanis handle the screaming.

But the baby doesn't scream. It laughs.

The shrieking Rook says is the baby's laugh isn't all that different from the screaming, but its mouth is stretched in a wide grin. It releases its grasp on the bars to clap its hands and immediately falls back onto its rump. With much less effort than the first time, it pulls itself up to stand again. It uses one hand to firmly grip a bar and reaches the other toward Spite's wings.

Spite flutters one wing closer, and the baby, still laughing, bends and straightens its knees, bouncing in delight.

"Pah!" it says, which is the noise it makes when it sees Lucanis. "Pah!"

"No," Spite says. "Not Pah. Spite." He points to the wings and then his glowing eyes. "Spite."

The baby stops its bouncing, and the focused expression of before returns. It tilts its head and fixes Spite with a serious gaze. Spite leans closer until they are almost nose to nose.

"Spite," he repeats.

"Sssssss...," the baby hisses.

Spite nods and doesn't lean back even when the baby's free hand tugs roughly at his hair. "Yes. Say it. Say Spite."

"Spah," the baby says. And then, after a particularly emphatic yank of Spite's hair, it triumphantly yells, "Spy!"

"Yes!" Spite crows. His wings shiver in excitement, and the baby bats at the one closest.

"Spy!" it shouts. "Spy!"

Spite grins at the giddy feeling bubbling in his chest, one only Lucanis has felt around the baby until now.

The baby knows him. The baby likes him.

They spend several minutes enjoying their new game. Spite laughs as he flicks his wings toward the baby and away, and the baby cheerfully cries his name as it tries to snatch the gleaming feathers. But the baby's voice gets softer, and its grin shrinks to a smaller smile and then fades entirely. Its round face scrunches up again, its focus engaged in some new thought.

Spite watches breathlessly, waiting to see what the baby will learn to do next. The baby's face turns pink and then a mottled red with effort. Rook told him the baby wouldn't have wings, but as Spite watches the tiny muscles tremble with strain and hears the baby grunt, a little part of him wonders if feathers and light will suddenly erupt from its back.

Then the smell hits.

Spite rears back with a snarl of disgust. He and Lucanis have perfected smooth handovers of their shared body, but this time Spite jerks away with such abruptness that Lucanis is left staggering. Spite doesn't apologize. He flees the room to escape the horrid stench and then decides to flee the entire family wing just to be safe.

He'll tell Lucanis the baby said his name later.

all together now

He's the King of Antiva to me

Inspired by this post by @vigilskeep because they opened my third eye with it.

Your face when you haven't slept for six months, you live in a pantry, and there's a capricious demon in your head. Gods, I love him.

Rook will obliterate every barrel and crate he finds like any graceful and sublime assassin should. He is truly the pride of Antiva.

And Viago is at his limit.

Lucien de Riva and art made by Barguest, do not copy or reupload please.

Hi!!! Happy Thedas Weekend!! How about “Rook trying to impress someone.” from the story time prompts, for Mel Mercar?

I need you to know this prompt gave me one of the biggest breakthroughs on Mel's character I've had so far! you have both my heart and my sincerest thanks !!!! hope you enjoy this little blurb, and tysm for prompting for @thedasweekend <3

❅

"You're sweet." Neve said. Two words, spoken casually over her shoulder as she climbed the staircase ahead. Just two words and Mel Mercar knew she was utterly lost, stumbling a step in her haste to follow.

'Sweet.' Later, the word clattered around in her mind, even as she explored their strange new landing spot. The Lighthouse thrummed with strange magic, making Mel's skin tingle, though not nearly as much as it did when Neve looked at her.

'Sweet.' No one had ever called Mel that before and she'd been called a lot of things. Harsh, sure. Brusque, off-putting. Brutish, on occasion. Lots of expletives, now that she thought about it. But never sweet.

She felt powerfully now the impulse to be sweet. Ignoring the nagging feeling that she'd somehow tricked Neve (she couldn't—Neve was far too clever), Mel began finding reasons to stop in to Neve's office. Often, she was bearing gifts. Or, coffee she learned to brew herself, following carefully Lucanis' instruction. Dinner, if Neve didn't make it out to eat with everyone, her attention snagged on one case or another.

If she ever went on a mission without Neve at her side, she'd bring any trinket that caught her eye, or books, newspapers, a nice journal or feathered quill. Once, notably, a beautifully handmade magnifying glass. Mel had thought herself particularly clever for that one.

Each time she was rewarded with some version of 'you're sweet' and that world-shattering smile, Mel believed it a little more. She could be sweet, for Neve. She could be anything.

Put your Rook Through The Horrors™

Feel free to answer some of these for pre-game as well! :)

What is the worst they've ever been injured?

What is the worst they've ever been sick?

What is the worst heartbreak they've ever experienced?

What would fearlings look like to them?

What event brought them to their lowest, mentally? How did they act during this time?

Have they ever been in any unhealthy relationships? This doesn't necessarily have to be romantic.

How high is their physical pain tolerance? Do they ever show if they're in pain? What about their mental pain tolerance? How easy would it be to break them down?

What kind of demon would emerge from them had they been subject to Zara's experiments?

What would a nightmare tailored to their worst fears look like?

Who do they miss the most?

Which one of their senses would they fear losing the most?

What do they doubt most about themselves? Why? Where did this come from?

What kind of injury scares them the most?

Think of the two people they are closest to. They can only save one. Who are they choosing?

What is the one thing that would make them lose all hope?

What kind of demon would be most successful in tempting them? What offer would it have given them?

Have they ever felt insignificant? To the world? To their faction? To their loved ones?

Which one of their insecurities would be the easiest to take advantage of?

One of their loved ones just got grievously injured by their enemies. Who was it? How do they react?

Deep down, did they truly believe they'd be able to get out when they were trapped in the Fade?

What would their last words be?