#back when I was still trying to grasp how to draw Lucanis / Spite

[nuclearanomaly]

Spite Loves...

[arduousflame]

For just one night

I'm still just playing around with who I want Rook to be. So have a little bit of the team finally getting a breather and a little backstory on Rook. I think I have settled on her being part of the Crow's but not an assassin per se. No spoilers at all.

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For just one night

Lucanis moved behind the three women seated at the table, clearing the last of the evening’s dishes as his eyes skimmed over the pages of Rook’s book. Neve and Rook had relocated the detective’s case notes to the dining hall after dinner, working together to decipher coded messages. Rook’s knack for shorthands and cants had proven invaluable, and her personal key—a small leatherbound book—lay open on the table. It was filled with snippets of stories and songs, shorthand exercises, and codes she had accumulated over years as Viago’s eyes and ears.

“Westford Bay? Why does that sound familiar?” he wondered.

“Oh, that’s a classic! It used to be all the rage with the Ferelden minstrels” Harding chimed in, grinning from her seat near the hearth. “Rook, you know how to sing that one?”

“It is indeed a classic, but it’s been a while sing I last sang it,” Rook agreed, with a faint smile “I used to pull it out as a surefire way to keep a bar full of drunkards entertained. Works surprisingly well on Grey Wardens, too.” She flashed a toothy grin at Davrin, who shrugged but returned the smile. “We’re simple folk,” he replied. “Doesn’t take much to entertain us—a sweet smile, a song, a dance…”

Lucanis bit back a sharp retort—Spite’s retort, not his own—just as recognition flickered across his face. “The Castillon job! That was a joint contract—de Riva and Dellamorte. Illario insisted on a lookout for that one, someone who could entertain a crowd. Viago hesitated, but good thing we had one. That job went sideways fast when that paramour started screaming in the closet. The lookout got the whole bar singing—it drowned out the noise and gave us a clean escape.” He paused, his gaze locking onto Rook. “That was you?”

Her cup hid most of her face, but not the faint blush creeping across her cheeks and ears. “Yes,” she mumbled into the rim, avoiding his gaze.

He leaned in closer to examine the lyrics, catching the shorthand scribbled in the margins: Vi, you owe me for this one. offspring of that old vulture or not, if he dares that again, I’ll give them a reason to draw up a contract on me. I’d sign it myself.

Before he could ask her about the comment, Taash piped up. “Rook, you sing?”

From where he stood, Lucanis swore she was trying to crawl into her cup.

“Show us! It must have been good if Lucanis here remembers it,” Taash was oblivious to the embarrasment of their leader.

Rook groaned. “I don’t think I said anything about the skill of that lookout,” Lucanis replied with a smirk, “just that she managed to distract a bunch of drunkards.”

She shot him a mock-pained glare, but he grinned back. “Knowing the people in that bar, I doubt much skill was required.”

“I don’t think it would be wise to expose Manfred to this kind of music,” Rook deflected, gesturing toward the skeleton.

“Nonsense, my dear, any exposure to art, even those considered more folkish, is very educational.” Emmrich joined in. She sighed at the eagerly hissing skeleton. “I was counting on you”, she mumbled. Manfred gave her a thumbs up instead.

"I don’t have any instruments here…”

“You didn’t need any that night either, if I remember correctly,” Lucanis replied, his tone laced with a mock challenge.

This time, she shot him a look brimming with betrayal. “They were too drunk to…” she began, grasping at a final excuse.

“Easily fixed,” Davrin interrupted, cutting her short as he rose and headed for the bottles of wine and spirits stashed in the kitchen.

By the hearth, Harding and Bellara sat side by side, their eyes alight with expectation as they looked to Rook.

Rook turned to Assan with mock severity. “And what will you add to this treachery, boy?”

The griffon spun in a quick circle, then flopped dramatically in front of the two women, who were still watching with eager anticipation.

“Of course,” she muttered, resigned. “It seems I’ve met my match.” With a long-suffering sigh, she stood and leveled a finger at Harding and Davrin. “You’d better join in at the chorus.”

Harding nodded enthusiastically, while Davrin leaned back with a shrug and a grin. With a sigh, their leader stood up and gave a theatric bow to her audience. And started to sing the well-known ballad.

He did remember that job—and that young lookout. He must have been, what, twenty-five? Which meant she would’ve been in her early twenties. Illario had handled the preparations. He’d even petitioned Viago for a backup. Just in case it goes sideways, Illario had said.

He recalled how Illario had asked for someone specific. How had he described her again? That silver-tongued one, Gwynn is her name, no? The one whose wit’s sharper than a dagger.

Viago had tried to dissuade him. Warned him that she was a lightning rod for trouble.

All the better, Illario had replied with a grin. I might even help the Fifth Talon file down some of those burrs from her. Temper her, if I can.

He flinched at the memory now, realizing what Illario’s “tempering” of the younger fledglings usually entailed. They had met briefly before the job began—she’d been quiet then, wary of both Dellamortes. By that time, Lucanis had already earned his moniker, so he had not thought more of it.

They didn’t see her again until they reconvened at House de Riva. She’d been present for the debrief, where Illario had given her a glowing commendation. A nightingale among Crows, he had practically purred. A glance back between her and Viago and he had stepped in front of her, pushing her further back—a rare and uncharacteristic show of protection from the Talon.

Oh, Illario… That memory cast fresh light on the tense meeting at the Diamond, after they’d left the Ossuary. Whatever had transpired back then, it was clear Rook hadn’t forgotten—and had certainly not forgiven.

Her voice was more mature now than he remembered—more assured and steady—but still just as clear and melodic. The ballad told the tale of a sailor falling in love with a spirit on a drunken night. A lively dancing tune, despite its tragic story.

It didn’t take long for her to pull Bellara and Harding—who kept her promise to join in at the chorus—into the rhythm, dancing with her. The three women moved together, laughter spilling from their lips as Assan bounded playfully around them. At the table, Neve was laughing too, both she and Taash clapping along with the beat.

If Lucanis didn’t know her better, he might have accused her of weaving a spell through the song. She had enchanted their little group. Davrin hummed along, and even Taash had risen, joining the impromptu dance. With a graceful twirl, Rook handed Harding off to the laughing Qunari and swept Bellara into the steps, leading her with ease. The Dalish elf took to the Ferelden dancing steps with natural skill.

Manfred swayed at the edges, content to just watch. Emmrich, though he remained seated, tapped his foot to the rhythm. Lucanis couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

And then, just for a moment, Rook’s eyes met his. Her smile—genuine, unguarded—caught him off guard. Spite crooned in the back of his mind. Make her. Smile. More! Smells of cinnamon and cider. Just for a split second, before a twirl took her away again, to the other side of the room. He had not paid much attention to her that night all those years ago. He would not make that mistake again.

The song ended fartoo soon, with a floorish and a bow. Bellara collapsed in front of the fireplace, still laughing as she stretched out on the floor.

“Rook, you need to do that more often!” the elf gasped. Rook dropped into a chair, gratefully taking the beer Neve handed her. After a deep swig, she laughed breathlessly. “I’m severely out of practice. This is harder than taking on darkspawn, I’ll tell you that. Viago severely underpaid me, now that I think about it.”

“Oh, harder than killing Darkspawn, really?” Davrin took the obvious bait.

“I’d like to see you coordinate song and dance, Warden,” Rook shot back with a grin. “In my experience, Wardens are a bit… single-minded.”

She ducked just in time as a wine cork sailed past her head, prompting a round of laughter.

“But I’ll admit,” she continued, hands raised in defense, “some of my best stories came from Wardens. I’d be honored to add yours to my collection.”

The case notes were forgotten as the evening turned to jokes, stories, and laughter. Davrin eventually relented, sharing a tale of his own after Rook bribed him with another beer.

Rook, as Lucanis realized as he sat back down in front of her, did what she always did best: disarm and distract. He caught her looking at him when he reached for the wine bottle in the center. The smile she offered him was tired, but just as warm as before. Spite did that crooning again, somehow content for once. For just one night, they laughed, sang, and drank. Morning would call soon enough. But for now, they could breathe.