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Exhaustion.
Pure exhaustion.
The trek back to the Lighthouse from the destruction of Weisshaupt was grueling. Everyone was beyond exhausted and the injuries sustained limiting the party on their speed towards salvation. Tensions were high with the losses, and Rook could sense the thick fog of despair and defeat in the air. It felt like a heavy weight was on all of their hearts. So much death. So much pain. They failed to stop the Evanuris, but were alive.
As the spirit boat docked at the main crossroads, everyone agonizingly got up from their seats and moved towards the central eluvian. The Fade seemed to even know that it was not going well, the false weather inside showing dark storm clouds in the distance.
Emmrich fussed over the team as he checked on injuries, but was getting dismissed by most. Lucanis walked behind Rook, Neve to his left. For a man that was often quiet with his emotions, the upset around him was palpable. So much anger was being contained inside, but the group could feel it. Rook knew he blamed himself for not ending Ghilan'nain right then and there.
Harding, Bellara, and Taash were to Rook’s left whispering to themselves.
Darvin was positioned in the back with Assan. His own gloom radiated off of him like a poison in the air. Assan kept rubbing on him like a cat trying to cheer him up. Little chirps came from his beak as he tried to make his master happy.
Rook held his own injuries together and kept to himself. He could feel the open wound in his side as it started to weep warm blood down into his leather suit towards his boots. Filling his shoes as he shuffled.
He didn’t know why he didn’t bring it up. Maybe he didn’t want to burden the others with the pain and suffering already going around. He took his last healing potion before they left and hoped that would be enough to stop the bleeding, but it kept going. The warm liquid was uncomfortable in his clothes. All he could smell was metal, the singe of fire, and smoke. It dripped out of his pant leg, occasionally trailing behind him.
It wasn’t until Harding noticed the pain in his expression that someone said something to him about his behavior. He had been walking so far ahead that no one noticed the sweat on his brow or the slight limp on his right side. His curly red hair was tangled up in a ball on his head as he tried to keep it out of his face.
“Rook, are you okay there?” Harding asked it so softly that he barely heard it as he stepped up to the mirror in front of the group. Each step up was agonizing. Pain seared through his side and burned into his middle.
“Yeah, no, I’m fine, Harding.” Rook mumbled. Harding looked between their team, confused and not understanding him. Did he stutter? Did he slur his words?
His brows furrowed together with each step, and as they walked through the Eluvian into the Lighthouse, he felt his strength leave him as the world went dark, and he collapsed upon the stone floor.
Harding was first to try to move him, and her gloved hands turned him over. His bright red curls matched the pool of blood pouring out of his leather suit onto the cold stone.
Soon enough the whole group was bent to the floor checking on Rook, as they made their way through the portal. So many voices all shouted over each other about their leader.
Emmrich took charge telling Taash to help pick Rook up and to bring him up to his room so he could get him patched up. Emmrich turned to the rest of the group, told them Rook would be fine, and they should rest instead of worrying about his status. The team looked unsure as they glanced between themselves.
“No! I can help”, Harding exclaimed to him, not willing to back down.
She followed as Taash and Emmich hurried up the stairs to the main floor. The others knew that something was amiss with how Emmrich was acting and determined to keep them out of it. Lucanis wasn’t going to fight it as he trusted the professor, but he knew the scout wasn’t going to back down. He and Neve gave each other a glance at Harding’s argument. Her feelings towards Rook weren't much of a surprise to any of them there. Bellara stood back with Darvin unsure what they could do to help. Assan’s whines echoing around the hallway.
“Rook needs the utmost privacy right now, Madame Harding.” Emmrich tried to reason with her as they walked up the stairs towards the Laboratory. He could sense she was going to be stubborn and not take no for an answer. Her stance in front of him was indicative of her willingness to fight for her spot by Rook’s side. Emmrich sighed to himself, and rubbed his eyes.
Exhaustion.
They were exhausted and he really didn’t think he was going to be able to argue with the Dwarven woman. Taash was already way ahead of them, and jumped up the stairs to hurry into the Laboratory.
Emmrich waved Harding forward as they hurried. “Fine, fine. You’ll have to deal with Rook afterwards. I tried to sway you.”
He stepped around her on the stairs and moved to follow Taash’s shadow.
“I’ll handle Rook in any capacity, please, Emmrich.” Harding followed behind as quickly as she could. Her own body was extremely tired after the fight. They had run, climbed, vaulted, and fought so hard. The battle had felt like it was never ending and all the losses took its toll.
Harding snapped herself out of her thoughts of the battle as she hurried and opened the door to the Laboratory.
Taash had placed Rook on the marble exam table that Emmrich had in there, and he was muttering apologies to Rook as he worked on undoing his leathers. Taash excused themselves, knowing it was probably not their place to watch. Harding let them pass, and moved forward towards where Emmrich was working.
Emmrich glanced to the side, looking at her, “Well, if you’re going to be here, you can assist me with patching him up.” Harding nodded, her red hair in her face as it was frayed and frizzy from the battle. He motioned for her to gather his tools in one of the drawers on his desk.
“There’s a whole tray of surgical supplies in there, please grab them.”
Manfred watched from nearby, hissing worryingly, and Emmrich responded back, “He’ll be fine, Manfred. It’s just a momentary setback.”
Harding searched his desk, and Manfred helped her find the surgical tools by pointing out the drawer. She grabbed the tray from inside and Manfred asked for it with outstretched hands. Harding placed it in his skeletal fingers, and followed him back. Manfred stood next to Emmrich with the tools at the ready.
Her eyes widened as she saw the sight in front of her. Emmrich had already removed Rook’s jacket, and the black leather suit that usually covered his chest.
He was bare. His toned, thin body exposed to the cool air of the Lighthouse. Even though they had been travelling together for almost a year now, she had never seen him remove his shirt. Harding didn’t expect to see so many scars covering his pale skin. A large Y shaped scar enshrouded his chest down to his bellybutton. It looked old, no longer a shade of red, but a light barely there pink. It was surrounded by small notches down it, some looking newer than others. She could also see his chest scars from where he previously had breasts. It was adorned with tattoos of flowers and foliage. It was such a prettier sight than the stark contrast of the larger scar, and the gaping wound in his side.
Emmrich was quick at work to stop the bleeding. Once the flow seemed to slow down, he threaded some surgical thread into a thick needle, to suture the wound closed. Hands glowing as he healed it as best as he could.
Harding admired watching him work on Rook, the quick delicate hands, and the attention to detail was divine. No one moved quite like he did. He was a true professional in his crafts. Emmrich would glance up at Harding occasionally to see what her expression was while he worked. As if he was judging her silently for some unknown test. He asked her to please grab some bandages from his desk. She brought him the rolls of cloth and watched as he cleaned Rook up and wove the wrapping around his torso just in case.
“Will you do me a favor and grab one of those green potions off of my shelf? Third bookshelf, fourth shelf up on it.” he asked, his eyes never leaving Rook’s frame.
Harding stepped back and looked for the shelf he was talking about. It was exactly where he said it was, and she pulled down one of the acidic green potions. It was so light in her hands, and she could feel the healing powers radiating through the glass. It felt warm, like a midsummer day. She handed it to Emmrich, and he uncorked it, and lifted Rook’s head up to pour it into his mouth. The green potion poured down Rook’s throat as Emmrich assisted him.
She didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until Rook’s eyes flew wide open, and he inhaled the air greedily as if he was suffocating. Emmrich while still holding his head up, smiled softly down at their leader, “Welcome back, Rook”
Rook smirked at Emmrich, “Glad to be back.” His silver blue eyes glanced around the Lab, and paused on Harding as she stood nearby. Her amber eyes met his; she could see the fear as he realized he was exposed to her.
“Emmrich, you promised.” Rook whispered to his fellow Mourn Watcher. The betrayal in his voice was evident, and tinged with sadness.
“I know I did, dear Rook, but Madame Harding was insistent on being here. Take your concern up with her. I don’t think she’s as opposed to you as you think she’ll be.” Emmrich told him, slowly lowering Rook’s head to the table.
Rook groaned as he felt his abdomen bend. Pain in the wound aching as he awoke the freshly torn nerves. Emmrich looked down at him with pity for the pain he felt, and excused himself so Harding and Rook could talk. He told them he’d be up on the balcony, and to get him if the bleeding started back up.
It was uncomfortably quiet after Emmrich walked away. His footsteps heard above them as he settled in on the balcony. The awkwardness of the situation filled the room. Rook tried to sit up, and Harding hurried over to help him, her gloved hands helping him balance as he moved to an upright position. Rook glanced up at her, and then back down to his knees. He was quiet for a moment; feeling the ache in his bones. The blood that was in his boots was starting to congeal and he could feel the stickiness down his side and pants. Disgusting, he scowled as he felt it slosh in his shoe.
“Lace-” Rook began to whisper, but she cut him short.
“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?” The shout from her made him jump, and grimace as the pain in his side enveloped him. She cursed and apologized, but continued to scold him. “By the Maker, Orpheus, what were you thinking? You could have died! You can’t die. You’re not allowed to die on me-” There was a pause and then a correction in her words “-us. I mean, you can’t die on us.”
Rook peeked up as he heard his actual name and saw her freckled face turning bright red from her anger. He felt guilty for worrying her.
“I didn’t realize it was that bad”, he mumbled, and she grabbed his face with her gloved hands forcing him to look at her.
“You didn’t think!?” She exclaimed and he felt her trace his vallaslin on his chin. The tattoo ran down his neck to his clavicle and her finger followed. “I can’t have you not thinking. You need to care about yourself too, Orph.”
Rook hemmed and hawed at her before he spoke, “I didn’t die though,” he tried to joke, but saw it fell flat, “I- I…. I know, Lace. I know. I’m not good at thinking about myself. Others? Yes, but me?” His lips pursed into a slight frown.
She could feel the guilt radiating off of his skin, between the blood and the cold sweat he had dewing up from the pain.
“Are you not disgusted with me?” he whispered, and she was confused for a moment.
Rook saw her brows knit together, stretching the scar on her forehead. Her freckles were mixed together with dirt and blood, and her red cheeks. Even covered in all that grime all he could think about was how lovely she was.
“Why would I be disgusted with you?” she asked softly. She glanced down his torso, and stopped at his chest scars, “I already knew you were born different. You’ve never been shy about that.”
He shook his head at her guess. Amber eyes moved to the large older Y shaped scar on him.
“Is it this?” she reached out and before she could touch it he caught her hand.
“Yeah, it’s that. It's unsightly. Disgusting. Ghastly. Gruesome.” He listed various synonyms for how he felt the scar looked.
Harding pulled her hand back and pondered it. “Why do you think so?” she asked.
Many people had scars, but this one was different, and he was very self conscious about it. Rook made a face, like he couldn’t understand her indifference. Most people who saw his chest were instantly disgusted by him. Why wasn’t she?
“Do you not know what kind of scar this is?” he asked her. He watched her tilt her head and contemplate it. The candle light lit in her eyes, and he knew she realized what she was looking at, “It’s an autopsy scar” She said it in such a proud “aha! ” sort of way, but her face faltered once she realized what that meant for Rook.
“Oh.”
Rook looked back at his clothed knees, hands gripped tight on the black leather pants. His knuckled white as he waited for the disgust in her voice, but it never came.
“Did you die?” she asked softly, coaxing him for an answer, but knowing if he didn’t want to then he wouldn’t.
Rook smirked and teased, “Die? No. I don’t think I did. I would hope I would know if I’ve been resurrected.”
He heard Emmrich make a noise upstairs as if he was scoffing at the thought.
“You might have heard from Emmrich and I talking in the Grand Necropolis that I was found there as an infant.”
Harding nodded along as he spoke, she did remember that conversation slightly as they walked through the Tombs of the Dead.
“It’s a lot more complicated and fucked up than that, to be honest”, Rook started, “If you want to know, I’ll tell you, but it’s just…” He fumbled trying to find the word he was looking for. “...depressing.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with, Orpheus.” she held his hands. He let her gloved fingers lace into his.
“I’m fine with telling you, but often most people look at me differently after they see these. Even between the other necromancers I’m treated like a pariah at times.” He explained.
He waited for a moment to see if she’d like him to stop, and she motioned for him to continue.
Rook inhaled a deep breath and let it out before speaking again. “So, I was found in the Grand Necropolis as a newborn. They thought I was dead as they came upon me, as I was cut like this and left on an altar as a sacrifice. Probably some Venatori assholes performing blood magic, who knows. But surprisingly, I was alive, and they took me to the nearest healer. I survived. Who knows how? Maybe the person got interrupted or something saved me.” Rook looked down at his hands as he spoke, occasionally tracing the scar he’d had all his life.
“What happened with your family? Did you have one?” Harding asked carefully.
“They found my birth mother dead nearby in the gardens. Poor woman was probably lured there or a Tevinter slave forced into it. I was given to an Elven couple in Nevarra City to be raised. I appreciate what my adopted family did for me, but… we’re not close.” Rook felt Harding’s hand tighten in his. The grip was grounding and solid.
“Growing up was rough, being in the wrong body, and then having to live with this scarred form. This scar was cut and stretched as I grew. That’s why there’s these little notches.”
Rook ran his hand down the Y shaped scar to feel the little notches in it. Harding watched his fingers as they ran over it. He glanced up to see her face, and instead of disgust or horror, he saw love. A soft love as he told his story. Not pity, not shame. Love. Rook felt his heart ache under her gaze. Of course, she would never judge him for his history. It wasn’t his fault he was born into that. He just survived it and lived to tell his tale.
“You’re not running and screaming like most people do.” He joked.
“Of course, I’m not. These scars don’t define you, Orph. You may have been dealt a horrible hand at birth, but you’re still you under your skin.” she whispered. He knew that. It was obvious, but so many others only saw a mutilated body. Someone unwanted and tossed away. He pursed his lips together to keep from crying.
Why did he want to cry? Was it her support? The love she showed for him?
Having his own insecurity challenged was something new to him. The only other that seemed to not be phased by it was Emmrich, but he already knew of Rook’s history and what happened back then.
“You are too good to me, Lace” Rook whispered back, “Most people call me horrible things after they see these. They think I’m an abomination. That I must be since I’m also a Mortalitasi.”
Harding let out a scoff, “I’ve seen abominations, Orph and you’re not one of them.”
They sat together in silence as Rook thought about her reaction. Maybe it was okay. Maybe the others would be fine with him too. His lip quivered as he exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding in. His entire body ached and the new wound in his side burned worse than most previous ones he had obtained recently.
Exhausted.
He was utterly exhausted. But he had to let her know how he felt.
“Thank you, Lace. For everything. I don’t know what I would do without your support.” Rook glanced into her eyes as he felt his own fill with tears. He knew without her there by his side for most missions he would have been lost. She was always so grounded and insightful. A sturdy support for his chaotic loud mouthed ways.
Her cheeks turned such a bright red as he continued to talk and tell her how much she meant to him, “I mean it, I do. This whole journey so far, this fight, would have been impossible without you by my side. I would have probably died by now trying to face the gods.”
“You don’t mean that.” Harding whispered back.
“I do. I really do.” Rook answered and pulled her towards him to stand between his knees on the table. As he touched her exposed upper arm to move her, he saw her eyes flash blue, and then his whole body felt like it was super warm and burning in his veins. He could see the worry in her face as he collapsed to the table. His vision blurred and the room spun as if he had drunk way too much. Rook swore he could see blue stars in the corners of his vision. It took him a minute to place where he’d felt this before. Memories of Mourn Watch mage classes filled his brain.
“Emmrich, help!” Harding called up to their companion on the balcony. His sigh was pronounced as if he knew something like this would happen.
"Coming!"