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The Fade was quite magnificent. Suspended so perfectly, the Lighthouse was such a feat of innovation, though the constant daylight did somewhat disorient. Nonetheless, Emmrich still marveled at the way the magic was visible and quite tangible as he crossed the courtyard towards the kitchen area. It simply deserved much more study and observation should he be able to find the time. And, he mused, Bellara might all ready have some notes started. The papers and lectures that would be birthed from his time here. Perhaps, another module that could be taught in the Necropolis. Or even another book could be written.
Leaning against the brick building was the Antivan Assassin, mug of coffee in hand. He was position next to the doors. “Good morning Lucanis,” Emmrich greeted politely.
“Morning Emmrich,” Lucanis replied. “She's in there asleep.”
Emmrich halted. “Beg pardon?”
“Rook. She does this sometimes. She brings her notes, the missives, papers, maps, other things to work on but she'll fall asleep before she's finished.” Lucanis paused to take another sip. “I've been out here for a couple hours. She must be really exhausted if she's still sleeping.” Ah, so Lucanis was standing guard, more or less.
“MAKE HER COFFEE BUT SHE DOESN'T DRINK IT BEFORE IT'S COLD.” Spite muttering in the fade and sounding so displeased made Emmrich give a small smile.
“I will endeavor to be as quiet as possible.” Lucanis merely gave a grunt back. The dark circles under the man's eyes were practically black and Emmrich gave a momentary, pitying look before pushing open the door into the kitchen.
It was fascinating how the fire in the hearth never dimmed, it was always a comfortable warmth. Rook was sat at her usual place at the head of the table, slumped and neck bent in an alarming way. Emmrich grimaced at the phantom pains in his own neck as if he had fallen asleep in such an atrocious position. But Rook didn't stir, not even as Emmrich crossed the room nor when he set the kettle on the stove to warm some water.
There were quite a lot of papers spread in front of her, with a couple books, and maps like Lucanis had said. The missives were written in trade along with notes she had scribbled on a piece of paper. However directly in front of her was a leatherbound journal, with writing in Old Nevarran, beautiful handwriting, obviously her personal diary. Attempting to be ever the gentleman he was moving his eyes away when he saw his own name written.
“Of all the people Bellara could've been corresponding with, it had to be Professor Emmrich Volkarin. And yet I do not know what to make of him. The rude professor I encountered is not the same man who is now a part of this … my... Varric's team. He acts as if we have never met and maybe it is a kindness that he has forgotten me. I thought for a moment in the Shrouded Halls he might've remembered me when we found him but he looked upon me with warmth and kindness. Should he remember our brief interaction I am sure to lose his respect. Ingellvar all ready doesn't demand much and the stake's are too high for me to lose any sort of good standing with any one on this team, especially our Fade Expert.
Myrna and Vorgoth have asked me to come back and asisst with Watcher duties in the Shrouded Halls. I do not know if this is a test or an actual invitation. I am erring on the side of caution and guarding my heart. I have assured them that any return to the Necropolis I will have the Professor…Emmrich with me, though they have said it is not necessary. If the professor joins me it will appear at worst that I have a chaperon and at best that I am accompanying a Senior Necromancer on important Watcher business.
Emmrich is pleasant company and having another Watcher around feels like a balm on my heart. I feel understood in ways I haven't in a very long time. And he's so kind. It's as if I have met two completely different people. As if that man who caused me to forego furthering my studies is a nightmare I conjured. But if that were true I wouldn't be here in the Fade looking over missives somehow charged with saving the world.
It had to be someone.....”
The kettle began to whistle. Inwardly berating himself, Emmrich quickly moved to pull it off the flames, but not before Rook had stirred with a groan. If she wasn't fully awake, she would be soon enough. He put enough tea leaves in the pot for a few cups of tea before pouring the boiling water. Gently he took two mugs down, preparing a tray to carry to the table with a sugar jar and a small thing of cream.
Should he remember our brief interaction I am sure to lose his respect. Emmrich had never forgotten that day. It was one of his less finer moments. He'd never been so cross with a young mage and truly his anger hadn't even been because of her. Often he would find himself regretting not even hearing her out after speaking with some of the other Instructors who had had her as a student. “Allette Ingellvar is an absolute delight.” One had said. “Yes, she's quite bright and very hard working. I wish all the Apprentices were like her.” Another had added.
Only High Councilor Staudinger seemed to have strong opinions on “young Ingellvar”. And that woman's opinions now seemed naught more than …
Rook gave a whimper. Carefully he placed the teapot onto the tray and brought it to the table. Rook was attempting to straighten herself out, a mask of pain on her face as she rubbed her neck. “Good morning,” Emmrich greeted softly. Bleary lilac eyes peered up at him, mild surprise held within. He paused, their eyes holding longer than what was normally comfortable but he couldn't pull away.
It was not a shock that she was exhausted and tired keeping a cohesive team while also carrying the burden of saving the world. There was a deeper exhaustion there, one that came from the soul. And Emmrich felt as if he was peering into his own reflection as he lost himself in her radiant eyes. A flutter moved through his chest. Remembering himself, he blinked and set the tray down. “How do you take your tea? It's Royal Navarran Black if that makes a difference.”
Rook's eyes darted down towards the journal, still splayed open. Her fingers carefully closed her diary and collated the missives and other papers together, making space for the tray. “It's been so long I....Oh.” Emmrich was pouring tea into the mugs but stopped to see what was troubling her only to find she had a hand covering her mouth, cheeks flushing crimson.
“Is something the matter?” he pried, concern rising up in his chest.
“You're speaking Nevarran.”
His eyebrow made an attempt to touch his hairline. “We are Nevarran.” He was so puzzled by her statement but he turned back to the tea.
Rook gave a short laugh. “I haven't...well what I mean is.... It's been some time since I've truly conversed in my native tongue. It's nice.”
Oh. Emmrich felt a twinge of shame. She'd been traveling across Thedas and had only recently returned to Nevarra. Even here at the Lighthouse everyone spoke Trade with each other. It was one more way he hadn't considered how her time away from the Necropolis and Nevarra had affected her.
He set the tea cup in front of her though she did not take a sip. Instead her hands went up to her neck, rubbing furiously on the side in an attempt to relieve the pain. It was hard not to outwardly grimace watching her attempts to soothe the aching muscles in her neck.
“May I?” he quietly questioned. It was purely medical, Emmrich told himself. He had studied massage techniques while doing a small tenure in the Healing Quarter. This was putting those skills to use.
Her eyes were wary but she gave a brief nod and Emmrich placed his ringed hand behind her neck to stabilize while his gloved hand went to work on the sore muscles. A long breathe released from her lips, as Emmrich stroked her neck. She maintained contact with his eyes longer than he thought she would before her eyes rolled and her lids closed. Under his hands, he felt the muscle begin to uncoil. A small incantation was spoken allowing heat to flow from his fingers alongside a small stream of healing magic.
Emmrich studied her more closely while he had the opportunity. There were dark circles dotting the skin under her eyes, but it didn't deter from her rosy complexion. She wore minimal makeup, opting for dark kohl outlining her eyes and a dark grayish purple lipstain. Her hair was a beautiful silver white, quite rare for someone of her age, and it must've been somewhat long as she had it pulled up into a thick bun on the crown of her head. Though, there were stray hairs attempting to escape it. Nothing had changed since the first time he had met her those few years before, except maybe a few creases on the edges of her eyes, the tale tell sign of harder times in her young life.
Rook's head lolled slightly, her breathing slow. There was a moment where Emmrich wondered if she would fall asleep again. But her eyes blinked open, finding his once more. Emmrich gave one more stroke on her neck before pulling back. She tested the muscle and with a small smile, rolled her neck around in a circle.
"Wow. I wish you had joined us sooner," she gave a small chuckle, and Emmrich was not blind to the flush that bloomed on her cheeks. "Thank you. Is this something you learn as a senior necromancer?"
Emmrich sat down adjacent to her in a chair and sipped his tea. Was she testing the waters? Seeing if he remembered and would scold her? Instead of stepping into what might've been a trap, Emmrich instead replied with, "Oh I like to keep up on my healing skills. You never know when you might run into trouble in the depths of the Necropolis."
Sipping from her own cup, Rook nodded. "I'm grateful you bring so much to the table. You are truly an asset to us." Her eyes darted to his, and even though Emmrich was caught looking at her she gave a smile. "Would you be willing to share your honest observations after being with us a a short time?"
"I haven't been giving marks as a Professor, Rook," he chided. Her responding chuckle made his heart flutter.
Rook shook her head. "No of course not. But a new perspective on how things look would be nice to hear." She pulled her journal out and opened to a blank page. "Especially from such an experienced and learned Professor."
Now Emmrich was flattered. "Well, certainly. What exactly would you like to know?"
With a smile, she pulled her quill out. "Given the overall situation with the blighted gods and the problems our allies are facing, do you think we are focusing in the right areas, prioritizing our resources correctly?"
"Ah well, that depends on what you might consider resources, you see…" and Emmrich spent the next half hour sharing in greatest detail (per Rook's request), his thoughts on every question she presented to him. Her quill moved quite fast and Emmrich observed her note taking was detailed and quite organized. She asked him to give her his honest opinion on their teammates, prodded him for insights into past situations, and what he thought a good course of action would be.
And at last, Rook had one final question. "Do you believe I made the right call helping Treviso over Minrathous?" She didn't look up from her journal for a moment after the question was posed. But when Rook lifted her head, she met Emmrich's eyes and deep within there was regret, shame, and so much guilt. Emmrich felt his heart break at the sadness she was doing her best to hide. How had the weight of the War of Banners and now the Fate of Thedas fallen upon her shoulders?
"I don't believe there was a right choice," Emmrich said softly, his gaze never faltering from her own. "I do believe you have been placed in extenuating circumstances that no one could ever prepare for. And you are carrying a burden no one should be tasked with." Rook choked a laugh out and rolled her eyes, a small sign of relief. "If the real question you are asking is if I trust you, the answer is yes."
Emmrich watched Rook turn her head back to him, eyes finding his own. There was still uncertainty there but also relief. Emmrich reached his hand across the table and touched her own. The naturalness of the action surprised him but he realized she hadn't flinched away from him. Instead, she turned her palm over so he was now gently holding her hand. Rook looked surprised by her own action and she stared at their hands resting in one another.
The kitchen doors suddenly opened allowing Neve and Bellara to enter in, chattering about different cheeses before they saw Emmrich and Rook. Rook quickly jerked her hand back and quite flustered began scribbling one final note in her journal. "Oh, good morning!" Bellara greeted, Neve beside her with an eyebrow raised and a half smirk. "I was going to make crepes with fruit and cheese since it's one of Neve's favorites."
"What a marvelous idea, Bellara. That sounds quite delicious," Emmrich quickly responded in Trade, trying not to show how flustered he himself was. Why had he done that? It had been to comfort her, correct? Of course it was. Rook was their leader and though it was brief, they did have history.
And it was impossible to think she would ever find him more than the Senior Fade Expert that he was. But there was a pull there, perhaps born of guilt or a carnal attraction for a beautiful Nevarran woman. Or maybe he had overstepped grossly by not only rubbing her neck but then holding her hand.
Enough of that Volkarin, there are important tasks at hand, he scolded himself. Rook was once again stacking her papers and books. "That does sound amazing. I need to freshen up but I will do the dishes after breakfast this morning. Thank you for cooking," she rambled on in Trade. Emmrich knew she was rambling. Rook knew it. And Neve and Bellara were pretending they didn't see it. "Thank you Emmrich for the tea."
"My pleasure," He politely responded in Trade. Rook stood there looking at him for a lingering second, as if she was no longer sure what to make of him before hurrying out of the kitchen.
Bellara stood at the prep station, sprinkling flour across the surface while Neve sat on the table next to Emmrich, with a smirk on her face. "Catching up on Mourn Watch things?"
Emmrich sighed, his eyes glancing to the doors that had shut behind Rook. "Something akin to that."
Neve crossed her arms and looked into the fire. "Well, watch yourself Emmrich. She's got a lot riding on those shoulders and she doesn't need anymore distractions." The warning was well understood and heeded.
"I agree," He murmured before turning to the other two women. "So, tell me about this recipe that involves different cheeses and bread?"
"Khachapuri? Oh Emmrich how have you never had Khachapuri?" Neve exclaimed in pure disbelief and then began to detail the different recipes of the dish. Emmrich listened intently though Rook's eyes never strayed far from the forefront of his mind.