#bianca de riva

[weaveandwood]

The Snake and The Crow: The Beginning

Pairing: The Viper x Female Rook (Bianca, an Antivan Crow mage) Words: 4.3K NSFW Summary: Bianca and Ashur do something about the inexplicable tension that has followed them since the moment they met just two weeks prior.

AN: I bring you smut via flashback! This takes place six weeks prior to the current timeline, though this chapter can also read as a smutty one shot. Read on AO3! Read Chapter 2

DOCK TOWN, SIX WEEKS AGO

“Looking for something?”

She startled before turning slowly, the barest hint of a smile playing on the edge of her lips once she noticed it was him. It disappeared as quickly as he noticed it, her carefully crafted neutral expression a mask not dissimilar to his own. He wondered if there would be a day when he would see the Rook behind that mask. He wondered if she could be thinking something similar about him. 

“I’ve never been good at being still, having patience, waiting around,” she said, leaning against a crate filled with extra robes, tunics, leathers – supplies for future members they kept stored away in this almost forgotten basement storage room. “I thought I would see if the mysterious Shadow Dragons had anything good hiding down here.” 

“And? Find anything interesting?” he said, crossing the threshold and partially shutting the door behind him. He watched her eyes, blue as the depths of the sea, flick up and down. Before he knew it, he was right in front of her as if he were a moth and she was a flame.  The air was charged like the moment before lightning struck, as it always was when they were in the same room. He could feel the sparks dancing across his skin – they were drawn to her, urging him forward to be nearer to her.

“I think the most interesting part of the Shadow Dragons is right in front of me,” she said, her fingers brushing the edging of his coat. “The name, the mask…there’s more to you than just The Viper.”

The tension between them had been potent since their first meeting in that alleyway in Dock Town two weeks prior. He had found himself half-listening as Neve and Rook confirmed things the Dragons had been hearing whispers of. His eyes were drawn to Rook - her curly hair, the scar on one cheek, the low cut top she wore. What caught his eye most of all were what looked to be scarred feathers trailing from her collarbone down her chest. They were too regular and defined to be accidental. There was a story there, as Neve would say. He looked at her face once more only to find her eyes already on him - he had been caught staring. He had never been more thankful for the mask to hide the hot flush that had climbed up his neck that day. 

And yet, it didn’t stop him from staring every time they met since.

“I’m sure there’s more to you than just Rook. We all have our secrets, or burdens, our obligations. Especially those of us in…our positions.” He was so close to her now he could see her chest rise and fall with each breath, count each eyelash, see each tiny freckle. If he hadn’t been The Viper and were only Ashur instead, he would have already pressed his lips against hers. He would have already had her back against the wall as he dragged his hand up the side of her body to feel her curves. He would have already heard her whisper his name into his ear.

“The perks of leadership no one tells you about, right?” she smiled as he laughed softly, her fingers now grazing the stiffened collar of his shirt before moving to the lower edge of his mask. She traced the outline of his ear and he couldn’t help but close his eyes against the surge of desire that coursed through him. He wanted to touch her, to wrap his arms around her and kiss her roughly. It was new for him, to feel this way as quickly as he did with her, almost unexplainable - yet she was magnetic, she was intriguing, she was under the same amount of pressure he was, if not more. He wasn’t normally like this. He was a man of focus, a man with a mission – work against the Venatori, free slaves, get them to safe houses, and make Minrathous a better place. That had been his anchor all these years and his single goal. He found it was getting more and more difficult – the Venatori were brazen and the slavers grew more and more cruel, emboldened by the apathy of much of the Magisterium. He was frustrated, he was tired, he was angry. He had no outlet.

“It is nice to spend a quiet moment with someone who gets it,” he said, finding his finger tracing the placket of her top, unbuttoned to almost her stomach. Just one move and he could have it fully opened, he thought, with nothing between him and her skin that he spent more time thinking about than he should. 

“Would be nice to be a little less quiet, too,” she said before ever so slightly biting her lip. He would remember that image for the rest of his days. “If you want.” 

“I think it’s pretty obvious what I want.” The thought of them entwined made the air in the small storage room even more volatile – one word could set him ablaze. He could feel himself stirring at the thought of having her moan in his ear while he was buried deep inside her. 

“Then will you let me see you?” she whispered, reaching for the fastening of his mask before he had a chance to answer. He froze, warning bells going off in his head – past experience told him to back away, that no one could know who he truly was. All of his work would be destroyed in an instant if anyone found out, and he couldn’t bear that for the people he was trying to help. And yet…his instinct told him to trust her. She was fighting a similar fight he was, holding similar burdens, similar pressures. He felt the clasp release, the familiar weight of the mask gone as it hung freely by his other ear. One burden so easily removed by her. How many others would she help him shed? Could he do the same for her?

The thin thread of his composure snapped when he saw the faint smile appear upon the revelation of his face, another small crack in her well-honed mask. He crashed his lips against hers, smiling against her as she kissed him back. It was almost funny, the tension of their last three meetings had come to a head and now they were making out in the basement of the Shadow Dragon’s pawn shop. His tongue pushed past the boundary of her lips, finding a rhythm as it danced with hers. Her lips were soft, full, and perfect against his. He pressed his body into hers, his fingers tangling in her mass of wild curls. She let out the softest moan into his mouth and it was all he could do to stop himself from taking her right then and there as his mind filled with images of them together. He imagined his hand sliding into one side of her top, feeling her bare breast beneath his fingers. He imagined her hand wrapped around him before climbing on top of him. He imagined the look on her face and the noises that would escape those perfect lips when he made her come. 

The creak of the wooden stairs made its way to his ears, interrupting his reveries – someone was coming, and they couldn’t be found like this. He broke the kiss and she was left breathless, her lips swollen. She looked as disappointed as he felt. He might not normally be like this, but he wanted to be when he was with her. 

“I can come back. Later. Alone,” she said, the implications clear. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. 

“Ashur.”

“What?” she said, a look of confusion on her face.

“My name. It’s Ashur,” he smiled before fastening his mask and becoming The Viper once more. 

“See you tonight, then,” he said as he walked out the door, leaving her alone in the storage room. 

He waited for the telltale glow of an activated eluvian to fill the small room he was currently working in. Most of the Dragons had either left for the night or were sleeping on the scattered couches, even Tarquin after much convincing. Good . He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain Rook coming alone through the eluvian in the middle of the night and the longer he could delay that particular conversation, the better. 

The mirror came to life, a faint hum preceding the soft white glow to announce his visitor. He set down the papers he was looking over - manifests from a slaver ship they were planning on raiding in the next few days. The work was never ending and progress seemed nonexistent on days like today where he was disheartened, where he longed for the day when The Viper didn’t need to exist, when he didn’t need to live a double life. As he saw Rook step through the eluvian, he took in the way her leathers hugged every strong curve of her body, the way her curls moved, the sway of her hips as she walked toward him. He supposed now that he would be living a triple life, though he would gladly do so for a few hours with her. The kiss they shared had been the one bright spot in this difficult day, and he found his mind drifting to it often as the hours passed.

“Bianca,” she said. 

“What?” he tilted his head slightly, sure he missed something. 

“My name – Bianca. I think it’s only fair if you know mine.” She was in front of him once more, toying with the edging on the jacket. “Especially if this is going where I hope it’s going?” 

A thought flashed through his head, chastising him for getting this close to an Antivan Crow. He knew this was dangerous, that they were trained to use seduction techniques on their marks. If she found out who – no what – he was, he would be in even greater danger than he was before – bought and sold to the highest bidder, a trophy for someone who didn’t agree with his plans. Still, as her fingertips brushed the small amount of exposed skin on his neck he found that he didn’t care. Let him be her mark for tonight. 

“Follow me,” he said, leading her to the back of the building to his quarters. A generous term, really, it was a small office with a desk and a sofa to sleep on in the rare hours he could afford to rest. He shut the door behind them. There would be no resting here for now. 

“Nice place,” she said, watching him from the sofa as he hung up his coat and hat before unfastening his mask and laying it on the desk. “There you are,” she smiled.

“Here I am,” he said, walking to her with purpose. He sat next to her before pulling her onto his lap, ready to pick up where they left off that afternoon in the storage room. He wrapped a hand around her back, pressing her toward him as his lips brushed hers - both of them tentative for the briefest of moments, as if this was a line they weren’t sure they should cross even though they wanted to. The moment was fleeting, passing as swiftly as it came and they found themselves entwined together once again. His skin felt as if sparks of lightning were running just under the surface. They made him want more. 

She moved to kiss his earlobe. He groaned when she kissed one forgotten spot on his neck that drove him mad and he pressed his hips up into hers on instinct. He ran his hand from her waist to her breast, palming it as she continued her torturing path down his neck and across the column of his throat before moving back up the other side. He thought of her kissing his chest, his stomach, her lips wrapped around him. The thought alone nearly sent him careening toward the edge and they weren’t even undressed yet.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, breathless, needing a moment to recover from his imaginings. 

She hummed against his neck in agreement. 

“The…scars,” he inhaled sharply as she bit a little harder on his earlobe. “What is the story there?”  

She sat up and looked at him. He had never seen someone with eyes that deep of blue – was it an Antivan thing? He could drown in them and be glad for it. He dragged a finger down the center of her chest, feeling the slightly raised skin. 

“A question for a question?” she said, smiling at him. This could be dangerous, he thought, but then she rocked her hips against him and his better judgement went out the window. 

“Deal,” he groaned. 

“Training for the Crows starts when you are a child. I had just turned seven when they bought me. It is…tough. Brutal. Some would call it torture – I certainly felt that way. But I made it through, and I never was more proud of myself than when I was fully initiated. I was an Antivan Crow. So I got my wings to celebrate – I’ll always be a Crow.” He had heard rumors of the training methods of the Crows, children raised to know nothing but murder, that a life is what you can earn from it, that – 

“Wait, they bought you? So you were a slave?”

“I only agreed to one question, Ashur,” she smiled. “My turn.” 

“Fair enough, what is your question?” he said, kissing her neck, now his turn to give her sweet torture.

 “What’s with the hat and the mask?” she whispered, her head tilted to the side to give him better access to the smooth skin above her collarbone. He paused as his lips brushed against her throat. 

“I can’t answer that one,” he said. 

“That’s not fair, we had a deal, Viper ,” she teased, a fake pout on her lips. She pressed her hips down again, drawing out another moan from his lips, knowing she could feel him straining against his pants. He sighed before looking into her eyes once more. 

“All I can say is that if anyone knew what I looked like, who I am – it would be very bad for me, the Shadow Dragons, and the people we are trying to help, among many others. I am putting a lot of trust in you, Rook .” 

“Luckily for you, you could be the Archon and I would have no idea,” she joked before kissing him again, a little softer, less desperate than earlier. “Who better to trust than a nobody who has to kill two, maybe three, elven gods? Odds are I won’t even be around to spill your secrets,” she said with a soft smile on her face.  

He smiled back, though he would not tell her how close her joke was to the reality of his situation. He tucked a curl behind her ear, discovering it was pointed. She was an elf – how had he not realized until now? Another question for another time.

“You’re…not the Archon are you?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

He let out a loud laugh. Maker , how long had it been since he laughed like that? “No, Bianca, I’m not the Archon.” 

“Good,” she said with a smile. “Now…where were we?” She reached around the back of neck, pulling him to her, kissing him deeply. He melted into her touch as her kiss heated him even more than he was before, the sparks of lightning giving way to a burning ember, ready to ignite at a moment’s notice.

He thought he should be embarrassed about how aroused he was with her hips rocking against his, even fully clothed, and yet…he couldn’t find a reason to. He didn’t know if it was a purely physical thing, or if it was because she uniquely understood the heavy weight of expectation. In the end, it didn’t matter. He wanted her, and he would have her. Only a few buttons stood in his way, and he made quick work of them to expose a narrow ribbon of her olive skin.

She slid the shirt off her shoulders to the floor, leaving her bare from the waist up. The dim lighting in the room played off the swell of her breasts, the dips and divots of the scarring on her chest, her shoulders, her arms. He was transfixed. He ran his fingers down the line of her shoulders, feeling the raised skin as he reached her scars. What must she have gone through for this to be a celebratory action? He thought of her laying on a table while someone carved into her skin, streaked with thin rivulets of blood. She nipped at his earlobe again before flicking it with her tongue, bringing him back to this room, this moment. There were other tables she could be laid upon, other feelings than pain he could give her. He pushed his hips up against her while her mouth trailed hot kisses down his neck, letting out a soft groan while using her hips as leverage to rock into her faster, harder. He felt like someone wholly different, who he might have been if not for responsibilities and obligations making him into who he was.

“Too many clothes,” she whispered. She climbed off him, leaving him missing the weight of her body pressed against his before taking his hand and pulling him up off the couch. “Off,” she said, backing up to sit on the edge of his desk. She watched him, intently, as he quickly shed his many layers of clothing like a snake sheds its skin. The layers of shirts, the wrapped belts, the pants...she was right – it was too many clothes, and they all ended up in a heap on the floor. 

“Much better,” she smiled, looking at him naked in front of her. Once again he thought he should be embarrassed, but couldn’t find it within himself to feel it. Not with the way she looked at him, the hunger in her eyes growing by the second. 

“Now who’s the one wearing too many clothes,” he smiled an easy smile at her, motioning with his eyes to her leather pants, still infuriatingly on her body. 

“You tell me,” she smiled, leaning back slightly onto her hands, her legs parted. He stepped inside them, undoing the fastenings of her pants before desperately hooking his fingers into the waistband and pulling them off of her, adding them to the pile on the floor. He was both surprised and not surprised to find that she wasn’t wearing undergarments. 

“Much better,” he said, his eyes blazing a path up her body just as she had moments ago. She was beautiful, every inch honed to be an assassin from her strong thighs to her muscular arms. She was a fierce mage, but she had the build of someone who knew her way around a throwing dagger, of using physical force to kill when mana was low. That turned him on even more. He felt her fingers press into the skin on his hips, pulling her closer to him. 

“So,” she said with a teasing smile as she looked down at him, hard against her leg. “Still want this?” 

He laughed. Here she was, naked on his desk with him hard as stone between her legs and she was asking if he still wanted her? He slid a hand between them down her center, and found her slick with desire. 

“I don’t think I’m the only one who wants to,” he whispered into her ear as he gently rubbed her clit, her soft gasps falling from her lips to his ears. “I’ve wanted to touch you from the moment I met you,” he said, kissing down her neck once more to the tips of her scarred wings. He would touch each carved feather before he was done with her, he promised himself. She arched her back as he pressed his lips to her skin, one hand on her hip while the other continued tracing circles against her.

“Only touch?” she whispered. 

“Among other things,” he smiled against her collarbone. 

“Prove it,” she said. He could hear the smile in her words as she rocked her hips against his hand. 

Whatever thin restraint he was holding on to previously broke – he was a man on fire. He kissed her roughly, all pretense of the evening gone, if there was any to begin with. They were both here for one reason and one reason only, the air in the room thick with tension as they balanced on the knife’s edge of before and after . He held himself in one hand as he lined himself up against her entrance, looking to her for one last confirmation before pressing into her slowly, using shallow thrusts to help her open up for him. He watched her close her eyes as he sheathed himself fully within her, pausing for a moment to let the both of them adjust to the feeling of each other’s bodies. Maker , she was tight, warm, and wet around him, the softest velvet against his steel. 

Ashur was deliberate in everything he did, and this was no exception – he set a slow pace at first, nearly pulling out of her each time before fully sinking back in, drawing a moan from her lips when their hips met again and again. Each time she sent a gasp to the Maker he sped up, the desk creaking as he drove into her with his full length. He watched as her breasts moved with each thrust, he watched her stomach muscles flex as she moved her hips to meet his each time, he watched himself slide in and out of her. Every inch of him connected with every inch of her, and he never wanted to go without this feeling again. He wanted to have her again and again. It had been so long since he’d felt like this, selfish desire cast aside for holy purpose.  Her nails dug into the skin of his arms, leaving divots in their place as he continued his relentless pursuit of her pleasure. Each minute bled into the next, time no longer holding meaning as the two of them chased their own highs. Each time she whispered “More, more, ” he gladly obliged and by the time he felt her starting to tighten up around him they were both coated with a thin sheen of sweat. 

“I’m so… ah ! So close,” she panted, arching her back against the desk that she was now fully laid out upon. He licked the tip of his finger, reaching between them and tracing gentle circles against her clit once more, desperate to see her reach her peak, wanting to feel her shatter around him. Her hips jolted at his touch, her grip on his arms tightening as she got nearer and nearer to that edge. He kept a firm and steady pace, each thrust into her hard and relentless. He forgot about everything outside of this room as he watched her face. She was beautiful at any given point of the day, but when she was this close, she was radiant. Her cheeks flushed, her skin glowing with sweat, her curls wild and free around her head like a halo. She was divine in this moment. There was no mask. 

He felt her muscles tense and her body freeze before she cried out, his name tumbling from her lips like the sweetest song. He felt her shudder around him, pulsing as her orgasm rocked through her. The fire raging under his skin settled lower and lower, driving him to thrust into her faster and harder as he edged closer and closer to the peak of his own desire. He lifted one of her legs, fingertips digging into the skin of her thigh as felt his abdomen tighten. He looked into her eyes and drove himself into her one last time before tumbling over the edge of his desire and falling into the sweetest bliss. His orgasm came with a cry to the Maker as he felt himself fill her with his release.  Panting, he pulled out of her, reaching for her hand to help her sit up so he could kiss her once more.

“That was…” she smiled at him, breathless. 

“Yeah…it was,” he replied.

“Should we do this again? And again? And again?” she laughed, tracing a finger down the center of his chest before resting her hands on his waist while he kissed her neck again, tasting the slight salt of her sweat. 

“I think so,” he said, nipping at her ear. He hadn’t felt as relaxed as he was at this moment in ages. He was unsure if it was the sex or if it was just being with Bianca. What better way to find out than through repeated action? “Every other night? Same time, same place? Or is that too much?” he laughed. 

“For the amount of stress we deal with and how good that was? I want to say it’s not enough, but it’ll do,” she joked, sliding off the desk to begin gathering her clothes from the floor. He was unsure if he would ever look at that desk the same way ever again, in a good way. 

He said goodbye to her some minutes later, sending her back through the eluvian with a ratty old Shadow Dragon robe – “ For next time ,” she had said. He laughed to himself as he lay on his sofa. The sun would be up in a few short hours, but he was sure he would not find sleep tonight. It was elusive on a good day, which he would now count this as, but now he had visions of Bianca naked on his desk running through his mind. He should be thinking about so many other things, important things, serious things, but his mind always came back to the noises she made and the feeling of being deep inside her when she came.  

He had fun. For the first time in years he allowed himself to have fun with her. 

Whether he got sleep or not, it was worth it.

[tuuliivanovas]

"I'm Bianca 'Rook' de Riva and this is my favorite cataclysmic event on the citadel."

[luckyjak]

Named my de Riva Bianca, so when Varric goes "if he won't talk to me he'll have to talk to Bianca" *gestures vaguely to Rook*

[antivanism]

[invinciblerodent]

I might end up going with her, ngl. I think I ended up getting close enough to my idea for it to work, and I really like the thought of playing a character who says almost all the same things as the other, but her intentions are entirely different.

..... also I kinda can't get over this dorfsquad

Varric really DID pretty much start a collection of redheaded female dwarf rogues for a hot minute there, didn't he

[rebeldeway]

[nerdmomma14]

Some of my Rooks !

Pics#1- #3 Ember Mercar (they/ them) Shadow Dragon, Warrior, Human, Romancing Davrin... red/purple...annoyed by Solas.

Pics#4 & #5 Rion Thorne (he/his) Grey Warden, Rogue, Elf, blue/ purple unsure who I'm romancing... but probably Bellara.

I have 3 other Rook's that I've finished my playthroughs of that i don't have pics.

☆SLIGHT SPOLIERS AT END OF ROOK DESCRIPTION ☆

#1 Amira Laidir purple/blue human, LoF, Rogue who romanced Lucanis. (Solavellan ending)

#2 Bianca De Riva purple,elf, Rogue, Crow romanced Emmrich (my fave!)(Solavellan ending)

#3 Lilith Ingellvar blue/red, elf, Mourn Watch Mage who romanced Taash!

(Solas Willing End)

[agendratum]

list of other dragon age media i would like to potentially check out before veilguard made for mine and only mine convenience

novels:

Dragon Age: The Stolen Throne (ferelden lore; maric, loghain, rowan; 2009) 👑

Dragon Age: The Calling (more ferelden lore; tie-in to awakening; maric, duncan, the architect, fiona; 2009) 👑

(?) Dragon Age: Asunder (mage-templar war; cole, fiona, leliana, wynne; 2011)

Dragon Age: The Masked Empire (orlais and dreadwolf(?) lore; briala, celene, felassan; 2014) 🐺

Dragon Age: Last Flight (grey wardens lore; griffons!!; 2014) 🦅

Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights (everything lore; pre-veilguard details, factions, characters introductions; neve, lucanis, viago de riva, charter, solas; 2020) 🐺

comics:

(?) Dragon Age: The Silent Grove (ferelden/theirin lore?; alistair, isabela, varric, maric, yavana; 2012)

(?) Dragon Age: Those Who Speak (ferelden/theirin and isabela(?) lore; alistair, isabela, varric, sten; 2012)

(?) Dragon Age: Until We Sleep (varric lore; alistair, isabela, varric, sten, bianca, maric; 2013)

Dragon Age: Magekiller (venatori lore; before and during dai; calpernia; 2015) 🩸

Dragon Age: Knight Errant (post-trespasser stuff; relevant for tevinter nights; vaea, varric; 2017) 🔪

Dragon Age: Deception (tevinter lore; vaea, dorian, viago de riva, gaius; 2018) 🔪

Dragon Age: Blue Wraith (fenris lore; fenris, vaea; 2020) 🔪

Dragon Age: Dark Fortress (more fenris lore; fenris, vaea, solas; 2021) 🔪

Dragon Age: The Missing (dreadwolf lore; very closely pre-veilguard; varric, harding, viago de riva, neve; 2023) 🐺

web-series:

Dragon Age: Absolution (tevinter lore; it looks fun; not sure the relevancy to anything; someone's dnd party, cassandra, leliana; 2022)

[immavras]

muse roster so far :  the hero of fereldan ,  ( cousland ) / the inquisitor ,  ( lavellan ) / * rook ,  ( de riva ) /  * bianca davri /  lace harding / felassan .

[seminostorie]

Evviva il Pier Pub

Tutti scoppiarono a ridere, quel martedì sera, al Pier Pub del porto di Torquay. Anche i ragazzi lì in fondo.

Era una notte buia e tempestosa. Mah… buia sì, ma non tanto tempestosa. Era un martedì sera e al Pier Pub del porto di Torquay c’era, più o meno, il solito numero di avventori. Il Pier Pub, gestito dal bonaccione Stan, detto “pipa”(pipe), perché solito fumare la sua pipa anni 80 “accaventiquattro”, era ubicato in quella che era stata la stanza degli ami di una vecchia rimessa di barche. In legno, anche abbastanza in là con gli anni, le sue mura, i suoi sgabelli e il suo bancone erano lo scrigno di storie di “bucanieri”, “sparapose” e gente con qualche ingranaggio fuori posto. In fondo alla sala, un tavolo con cinque o sei giovinastri che parlavano di football e figa, delle cosce di Mary Jane e del culetto a palloncino di Sabrina. Dei capelli rossicci di Adele e dei ricci di Olivia. Bevevano coca cola e spizzicavano fish and chips a buon mercato. Generalmente poco interessati a ciò che gli capitava intorno, quella sera non fecero eccezione. A bere al bancone, invece, c’erano Al, guardiano notturno, in pensione, del porto, e quindi ex guardiano notturno del porto, e Barry, marinaio un po’ matto, ma molto affidabile: abile pescatore di aringhe e un po’ meno abile cantastorie. Stavano lì, per conto loro, a sorseggiare birra calda, mentre bofonchiavano qualcosa (Al) o canticchiavano biascicando parole incomprensibili (Barry). Verso le 22, entrò nel locale un signore sulla cinquantina, inglese anche lui, un marinaio di un altro porto. Si sedette al centro del bancone, giusto in mezzo a Barry e Al e proprio di fronte a Pipa. Ordinò anche lui una birra calda e, dopo qualche sorso, prese anche una doppia porzione di pesce e patate. Al non era minimamente interessato al tipo, mentre Barry adorava squadrare le persone e ipotizzare scenari. Lo incalzò da subito, con domande sulla sua vita e sulla sua città; sulle sue esperienze e, poi, iniziò a intortarlo con storie di mare. “Anni fa ero imbarcato sul Pequod” – esordì Barry – “andavamo a caccia di balene e una volta ne prendemmo una bianca come la neve, ma malvagia come il diavolo” – aggiunse. Il tipo non capiva. “La inseguimmo per un mese, poi il capitano Aca… Acar… Aca…, vabbè non è importante il nome. Dicevo, poi il capitano la trafisse con il suo arpione e la portammo a riva” - continuò Barry. “Ma smettila, ubriacone!” – disse con voce tremolante Al. “Stai raccontando la storia di Moby Dick” – aggiunse – “che cazzo ne sai tu di balene bianche come la neve e malvagie come il diavolo?” A Barry piaceva raccontare storie, ma anche farneticare cose senza senso. “Tsk! Ubriacone sarai tu!” – disse Barry. Pochi minuti dopo riprese: “Una volta ho pescato un marlin di quattro metri! Ero sulla mia barchetta di due e mezzo, l’ho tirato su a mani nude, ma poi un mako se l’è mangiato fino alla lisca. Peccato, era una bella bestia” – raccontò appassionato. “Ma smettila, ubriacone!” – disse, di nuovo, con voce tremolante Al. “Stai raccontando la storia de Il vecchio e il mare” – aggiunse – “che cazzo ne sai tu di marlin e maki?” Barry, ridendo di gusto, rispose: “Il vecchio sono. Il mare sono io: è la mia storia. Bravo Hemi… Hemi… Emily! Mi devi i diritti!” – e scoppiò a ridere, rischiando di cadere dalla sedia. “Vuoi un po’ d’acqua per asciugare l’alcol?” – chiese Stan. “No, l’acqua fa ruggine!” – rispose Barry. Fece per alzarsi, ma il mondo iniziò a girare intorno a lui. Oppure era lui a girare intorno al mondo? Si risedette e disse a Stan: “Sei un brav’uomo! Accetto la tua offerta di acqua!” – ne bevve due sorsi giganti, poi, per bilanciare, urlò: “Ora whisky! Per me e i miei amici. Ai ragazzi in fondo diamo dell’acqua raggia!” Tutti scoppiarono a ridere, quel martedì sera, al Pier Pub del porto di Torquay. Anche i ragazzi lì in fondo.

[jacopocioni]

Dante e il suo fantastico viaggio 8: Dante e i personaggi del Purgatorio

Prima parte Seconda parte Terza parte Quarta parte Quinta Parte Sesta Parte Settima Parte

Sono circa le sei del mattino, l'aurora da bianca e vermiglia diviene colore dell'oro, Virgilio e Dante camminano lungo un litorale, loro hanno terminato il loro viaggio all'Inferno, noi quello alla ricerca dei fiorentini o di personaggi e situazioni legate a Firenze negli inferi. Per loro, come per noi è ora di arrivare in Purgatorio. Una creatura alata sempre più luminosa si avvicina, è impossibile sostenere lo sguardo al cospetto di una luce così intensa. Con lei c’è una barca che sfiora l'acqua e che sta raggiungendo la riva con il suo carico di anime che cantano quel salmo che solitamente accompagna i morti in chiesa.

Tra le tante anime giunte con l’ imbarcazione ce n'è una in particolare che Dante riconosce subito, è Casella, un musicista fiorentino suo grande amico e al quale è ancora molto legato. Casella spiega a Dante che le anime destinate al Purgatorio si radunano alla foce del Tevere, l’angelo sfolgorante che ha visto prima le accoglie sulla sua barca solo quando hanno dimenticato tutto ciò che le lega agli interessi terreni. Casella spiega ancora che l'anno precedente durante il giubileo, venne concessa l’ indulgenza plenaria. Così tutte le anime che ne avevano fatto richiesta, beneficiando di uno sconto di pena potevano proseguire il loro viaggio nell’aldilà. Dante rammenta di aver scritto una canzone che lo stesso Casella aveva interpretato, e prega dunque l’amico di cantarla nuovamente per lui: “ Amor che mi parla nella mente…” Tutte le anime presenti rimangono incantate nell’ascoltare quella voce così soave.

Appare però Catone, che vedendo quelle anime ipnotizzate dall’esibizione, le redarguisce aspramente paragonandole ad Ulisse che rimane incantato dal canto delle sirene. Catone prende in mano la situazione e decide di distogliere quelle anime dalla distrazione canora, spingendole energicamente verso il monte antistante dove potranno raggiungere Dio. Casella nasce nel 1250 a Firenze e muore nel 1300. È stato un compositore amico intimo di Dante. Si sa poco di lui se non quello che ci racconta il poeta, qualcuno ritiene che fosse però di origine pistoiese. Musicò un madrigale di Lemmo da Pistoia, come risulta dal Codice Vaticano 3214: “Casella dedit sonum” (lo musicò Casella). Di Casella si fa menzione anche in un sonetto di Niccolò de’ Rossi. L’artista musicò alcune poesie di Dante come la canzone, tratta dal Convivio, “Amor che ne la mente mi ragiona”.

Dante incontra poi Jacopo del Cassero, un discendente di una famiglia nobile di Fano nato pochi anni prima di lui. Era un magistrato che fu alleato di Firenze, anche lui aveva combattuto contro Arezzo nella battaglia di Campaldino. In seguito era stato ucciso con un colpo di roncone all'inguine per mano dei sicari del marchese di Ferrara Azzo VIII, suo nemico giurato. Jacopo era stato ucciso mentre si dirigeva a Milano per essere eletto podestà della città. Per timore di essere riconosciuto e fermato dai suoi rivali, aveva malauguratamente optato  una via che passava attraverso una poco frequentata zona paludosa nel territorio di Padova. Fu una scelta fatale, perché  la folta vegetazione palustre, l’acqua e soprattutto la melma, ne rallentarono la marcia. Lo sventurato cadde poi accidentalmente da cavallo e venne facilmente raggiunto dagli uomini del marchese e ucciso.

L’anima chiede a Dante di ricordarlo nelle sue preghiere; questo gli avrebbe permesso di lasciare prima il Purgatorio. Nel sentire questa richiesta, si avvicina anche Bonconte da Montefeltro della casata dei signori di Urbino, sperando che Dante interceda anche per lui.

Bonconte era morto nella battaglia di Campaldino, ma il suo corpo non venne mai trovato. L’uomo apparteneva alla fazione ghibellina particolarmente avversa ai fiorentini. Ferito alla gola nello scontro, era riuscito a fuggire a piedi e a raggiungere il fiume Archiano nel punto in cui confluisce con l’Arno. Prima di perdere i sensi a causa del dissanguamento, era riuscito però ad invocare il perdono della Madonna. Così la sua anima che stava per essere rapita da un demone, venne tratta in salvo da un angelo. Il demone gabbato si vendicò allora sul corpo, scatenando una forte pioggia che ingrossando il fiume Archiano trascinò via la salma disperdendola per sempre. Ecco che in lontananza si vede arrivare una bellissima creatura celeste vestita di bianco e con il volto splendente. La presenza invita Dante a dirigersi verso un ripido sentiero composto di gradini. Nel vederlo al poeta torna in mente quella scalinata che porta in cima al Monte delle Croci vicino a Firenze, dove sorge la chiesa di San Miniato.

Dante e Virgilio cominciano a salire i gradini della scala per continuare il loro viaggio, quando incontrano Sapìa Salvani. Il nome Sapìa significa “colei che ha senno”, ma la donna rivela invece ai due di aver al contrario dimostrato di non averne affatto. Nata e vissuta a Siena ormai sessantenne, la donna era da sempre in forte attrito con il nipote. Così quando i senesi guidati dall’inviso nipote affrontarono i fiorentini a Colle di Val d’Elsa, lei  dalla torre più alta volle assistere alla battaglia pregando Dio che i suoi concittadini venissero sconfitti dai fiorentini. Sicuramente non grazie alle sue preghiere, ma i senesi vennero sconfitti.

Cenni storici: Dopo la battaglia di Montaperti del 1260, la Siena ghibellina aveva prevalso sulla Firenze guelfa. Colle Val d’Elsa che parteggiava per i guelfi, divenne luogo d’esilio di molti guelfi senesi e perseguita per questo.

Nella battaglia di Tagliacozzo del 1268 vide Carlo d’Angiò correre in difesa del pontefice Clemente IV, contro il nipote di Federico II Corradino, che era alla guida dei ghibellini. Tutta questa battaglia accadeva sotto gli occhi della speranzosa Sapìa Salvani, che dalla torre su cui era salita, pregava ardentemente sperando nella vittoria di Carlo d'Angiò.   .

Riccardo Massaro Read the full article

[weaveandwood]

The Snake and The Crow: Blighted

Pairing: The Viper x Female Rook (Bianca, an Antivan Crow mage) Words: 3.2K Rating: Mature Warning: Veilguard spoilers Summary: Bianca makes an impossible decision, one that makes her lose either way. AN: well I did it, I turned a smutty one shot into a thing. Enjoy the angst! Read on AO3! Read Part One

This was the first time she didn’t want to go through the eluvian to the Shadow Dragon’s pawn shop. This was the first time she didn’t know what she would find as she crossed that threshold, knowing how narrowly the crisis was averted at Treviso. It felt wrong stepping into the pawn shop at this hour, wearing her crow leathers instead of the ratty old Shadow Dragons robe she had pilfered from Ashur the first night they were together. 

“Why do you need this old robe?” he asked, holding it up.

“It’ll make it easier for me to sneak in with no questions asked, don’t you think?”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, Rook.” He smiled easily at her.

“If you don’t want me calling out ‘The Viper’ when you make me come, you better start calling me Bianca when we’re alone,” she teased while starting to get dressed.

“Fair enough. Here you go…Bianca,” he laughed, handing the robe to her.

Chaos welcomed them. She didn’t know what she was looking at, only that she was being summoned to follow someone she didn’t know and everyone was running around. She looked around for a sign of him – his silly snake hat she teased him about, his large stature, the shape of his coat – anything that would indicate he was okay. She found nothing. Panic began to creep into the edge of her awareness, making her vision start to go hazy and her body start to overheat. Where was he?

Lucanis got outside first, then Davrin, and finally her. Neve was pissed - pacing, yelling, asking sarcastically how Treviso fared. Lucanis did his best to answer questions they all knew Neve didn’t really want answered - she wanted to rage, and they let her. Bianca saw Tarquin over Neve’s shoulder, glaring at her specifically. Ashur should be nearby, he was rarely out of Tarquin’s sight. Where was…

Her heart dropped. Ashur was laid out on a makeshift cot, holding his side. He had been looking at her, likely since the moment she stepped outside. He always did have a habit of finding her first – not that she ever minded to find those piercing blue eyes fixed on her. She felt the sting of tears, trying with all her might to blink them away while clenching her hands into fists to resist the urge to go to his side and take one of his in hers, to intertwine her fingers with his and kiss each one just as he did the last night they were together – Maker what was it, less than 24 hours ago? How quickly everything fell apart. 

She found herself at his side anyway, barely listening as everything was explained. He held her eyes with his as she heard half-sentences. Minrathous destroyed, Venatori coup, claw to the gut. Blighted. That drew Davrin’s attention, and from the look on his face, she knew it was bad. Very bad. She couldn’t help the hot tear that slid down her cheek at that moment. She brought her hand up to wipe it away as quickly as she could, hopefully before anyone noticed. Hopefully before he noticed. 

She felt like she was underwater – every sound muffled, the air thick around her. She couldn’t breathe. Just the night before, they had been laying in his bed talking about maybes, talking about after. She had gone through the eluvian to the Lighthouse with a smile on her face, as she always did after nights with him, but this one was different. This one felt like the start of…something. 

And now that something was blighted and bloody in front of her. She noticed for the first time the webs of inky black that surrounded his eyes, the first sign of the sickness inside him. So much for no strings attached – she was wrapped in them and they grew ever and ever tighter, circling her neck and threatening to choke the life from her. Her breaths came quickly, shallow. This is my fault, this is my fault, this is my fault. 

“This is your fault,” Tarquin’s voice cut through her haze clearly, a sword honed to injure. Her eyes snapped to him. She couldn’t say he had ever felt particularly strongly about her before, but looking at him in that moment she could only see hatred and anger. 

“My fault?” she asked, her voice thick with both rage and sadness.

“This is all you. The risen gods, the blight, the dragon. Now the city has been lost to the Venatori…because of you.”

She knew it wasn’t true. She knew she had an impossible choice - Treviso or Minrathous. Home or him. She would always lose one way or the other. Still, his words struck true, right to the heart, and she was in danger of bleeding out in front of all of them. She turned away from the group, unwilling to let them see the shake in her hands and the unshed tears in her eyes. It did not deter Tarquin, who moved in front of her, unwilling to let her hide from this confrontation.

“He would have been fine if he hadn’t been…distracted.” He said quietly, as though he knew how dangerous voicing this accusation was. It did not ease the disdain dripping from each word he pointed directly at her, every syllable a stab into her heart. She was back in Treviso, a small child fresh from the slaver, being tortured with dulled knives so she would learn the pain her contracts would know as their final breaths left their bodies. “The last thing he looked at before we left to fight was that damned eluvian, hoping you would come through.” 

She was wrong. This was worse than torture.

“Everything we’ve worked so hard for,” he said, glancing at The Viper before turning his ire solely on her once more, “all of our plans, our goals, the changes we were going to make…all ruined – because of you.” This is my fault, this is my fault, this is my fault. The refrain kept running through her head, louder and louder and louder until she wanted to double over and cover her ears in an attempt to block out everything. What did he expect her to do? She wasn’t a savior, she wasn’t a herald, she wasn’t a champion, she wasn’t a hero. She was someone who pissed off her superiors and got sent on a wild elven god chase across Thedas.  

She barely felt it, the slightest graze of a finger against her own, almost missed at the edge of her perception. She had involuntarily backed up against the cot while Tarquin lobbed his accusations and Ashur had stretched out the hand that wasn’t covering his wound. He wouldn’t know it, but just this small act of connection, of mercy, saved her from collapsing in on herself. She felt the dulled blade of Tarquin’s claims retract from her heart. She could begin to breathe once more. 

“Enough, Tarquin,” he said. His voice still carried the tone of command in it, though Bianca could tell he was weak and straining. He needed rest. He didn’t need to watch whatever this was. “I have access to magic that will slow this. It will give me…time. This isn’t on Rook. It is what it is.” 

She looked at him and she was back in that bedroom, lying next to him while he played with her curls. She had wished they had been in a different world and he convinced her that the world they were in now was the only one that brought them together. She would give it up for him to remain as he was - no rattling breaths, no blight, no blood spilling out between the creases of his fingers when he coughed. 

“This is not my fault,” she said quietly, unsure if it was meant for others to hear or only for herself. Ashur’s finger grazed her once more, a show of support meant only for the two of them. 

“Of course you’d say that – you’re from Treviso, why should Minrathous matter to you? I don’t know what I expected.” Neve muttered. 

She lost it. 

“This is not my fault. I am sorry that this happened to Minrathous. Truly. But Treviso is my home,” she said, looking directly at Ashur, not sure if it was to make him understand or to apologize or something else entirely. Her composure finally broke just as her voice did. Grief filled her as she looked around at the injured, the dead, the destroyed homes, the destroyed futures. Grief for friends, families, lovers. Grief for herself, grief for Ashur. Grief for potential. The strings they were so desperate to avoid attaching to themselves had felt like they had become thicker, living things – weights that strangled and threatened to drag her underground just moments ago. They were brittle now, one wrong move and they would snap. She should let them, she thought. She should free both of them from this. No more distractions. An endless emptiness clawed through her at the thought of cutting off all ties to Ashur, never feeling his warm hands on her again, never feeling his mouth on her neck or his breath on her ear. Never seeing the burdens lifted from him for just a moment when he shuddered into her and called out her name. It was too much to think about, a bottomless pit of sadness threatened to swallow her up right then and there.

She cleared her throat, taking a couple breaths before turning her furious gaze to Neve before landing on Tarquin. “My home. Treviso doesn’t have a floating palace, it doesn’t have an army, it doesn’t have The Viper, or Tarquin, or Neve Gallus. It has houses of assassins who are hell bent on murdering each other in claims for power. Oh, and an occupation of Antaam. That’s it. If you want to blame someone, blame Solas. Blame Ghilan’nain. Blame Elgar’nan. But do not blame me. Do not think this is easy for me. I will remember this for the rest of my life.”

A pause. She did not break eye contact with Tarquin. 

“Tensions are clearly high here. You should go back to the Lighthouse. I’m staying here for a while to help sort out this mess,” Neve said, dismissing them quickly. 

Bianca gave one last look to Ashur before turning to go back through the eluvian. She felt his eyes on her as she walked away from him, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time she saw him. 

She sat in her room and cried the rest of the night. 

“You’re not sleeping,” Lucanis said, sitting down next to her at the dining table before handing her a large mug of coffee. 

Bianca huffed into her drink. “You’re one to talk.” 

 “I am well-equipped to recognize the signs,” he smiled, rotating his mug into his hands. “Still thinking about the other night?” 

That was an understatement. It had been three days since they last traveled through the eluvian, leaving Neve and Dock Town behind. Leaving Ashur behind. She still didn’t know how he was – there hadn’t been any communication from anyone. Every time she tried to sleep, all she could see was his eyes, piercing and icy, surrounded by black. All she could hear was the slow drip, drip, drip of blood from his cot to the ground. All she could feel was the tip of his finger against hers.

So no, she wasn’t sleeping. She hummed into her cup and nodded. 

“Rook, you have to know you are not responsible for what happened in Minrathous. To think the same could have happened to Treviso…well, I for one am glad you were there. And I know Teia and Viago couldn’t be more grateful. I don’t think I heard Viago call you an idiot once,” he laughed, staring into his cup. He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Spite is also glad you were there.”

“Well, at least someone was. And I know. It’s just…a lot to take in. The stakes feel so much more real now.” The scale of the loss hadn’t quite hit her yet, and wouldn’t until she could see for herself without the chaos. So many lost their lives and even more were injured, their livelihoods gone in an instant. It was no longer a hypothetical ‘when the gods attack’ – they did, and Bianca’s team was not ready for it, not in the slightest.

The two sat there in amiable silence for a long while, drinking their cups of coffee in the earliest hours of the morning, the only ones stirring in their little corner of The Fade. It was nice to just sit with someone and not have to talk, or plan, or lead. It was a little odd for her to be doing that with the grandson and presumed heir to the First Talon, she could admit that. What a funny turn her life had taken. She was a nobody, an orphaned elven slave child purchased by the Crows to pad their numbers. She was disposable, a thorn in the side of her house, sent away at the first chance. Now, she was joking with Lucanis Dellamorte, fighting elven gods, and realizing too late she had feelings for the leader of the Shadow Dragons, who was either fighting for his life or dead. If she wasn’t so anxious, she would laugh.

“I’m not asking her, leave me alone,” she heard Lucanis mutter to himself. Spite must be causing trouble in his head. Again.

“Ask me what?” 

He sighed, pushing his now empty mug away from him and turning to her. This felt serious – based on the look on his face, Bianca wished she had pretended she hadn’t heard him. She took another drink to avoid eye contact.

“Did you have…something with The Viper?” he asked. She choked on her coffee, her eyes widening for a second before schooling her face back to neutrality, just as she was trained. They had been so careful, or so she thought. She knew everyone’s schedules by heart, she only went through the eluvian when everyone should have been asleep…Oh. 

“I’m a highly skilled assassin, Rook. I know how to be places and not be seen. Besides, it was Spite who put it together first. The last job we had together in Minrathous…he said you and The Viper smelled like each other.” Bianca’s mind wandered – she knew exactly the day he was speaking of. They had met up later than usual and Ashur was frustrated from a hard day and insatiable. She tried to suppress a smile into her mug as she remembered him laying her back on his desk, feasting on her as if she were the finest meal before taking her so hard she thought the desk may break. She didn’t come back through the eluvian until two hours before they had to leave to go back to Dock Town and winced at all the ladders they ended up climbing that day. 

“I was in the library the other night when you hurried down the stairs wearing Shadow Dragon robes, which was strange to me, because you only like tight fitted leather, and you only wear Crow colors,” Lucanis continued. “Though, I couldn’t confirm anything until we went to Dock Town after Treviso.”

“How would that confirm anything? All that happened was me getting yelled at by Neve and Tarquin over something they think I could have changed the outcome of.” 

He gave her a half smile to go with her half-truth. 

“The Viper was looking for you, that night. I saw his eyes go straight to the door once he saw me, waiting for you to cross through. I saw you move to him without realizing it. I saw the way you two looked at each other. I saw the way he reached out to comfort you in the smallest of ways,” he said, getting up to grab the coffee pot, refilling both of their mugs. “It was obvious, once I thought to look.” 

Well, shit. 

“You ever think about leaving the assassin business behind and starting a detective agency with Neve?” she asked. “Seems you have a natural gift.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t already know,” he said, sitting back beside her. She liked this, being friendly with Lucanis. She felt like she hadn’t had a friend in so long, if she ever really had one. She just wanted someone on her side. 

“If she does, she hasn’t mentioned anything and I don’t think I’d ever hear the end of it once she started. Tarquin definitely had it figured out. I’m not sure it really even matters anymore. Knowing what Davrin has told me about the blight…The Viper is likely already dead, or something close to it.” She blinked back tears. If he was dead, and that was the last time she ever saw him…Maker, what was she doing? They had only been sleeping together for a little over a month. There had been one discussion of maybe, after, possibly, potentially, but it wasn’t like they were a committed couple or anything. So why did it feel like she was dangerously close to losing so much? Why did the backs of her eyes sting, why couldn’t she sleep, why could she only think about how he tried to comfort her when he was bleeding out? 

Get it together, Bianca.

“Anyway, we weren’t really serious or anything. It was just fun, a way to blow off steam a few times a week. He understood the pressures of leading a team and the stakes involved,” she shrugged. 

Lucanis nodded, offering her another half-smile to go with her new half-truth.

“Just some fun,” she repeated. Was she trying to convince him, or herself? “I should probably go get the day started. Thanks for the coffee. And the talk. I really needed it.”

“Anytime, Rook. Crows stick together. Before I forget, I was tidying up in the library a few hours ago and noticed some new missives on the table. They must have come in overnight. I must admit I’m still not sure how we get messages in The Fade.”

“You and me both. Thanks, Lucanis.” 

She walked from the kitchen to the library, hugging Assan on her way as was her habit whenever she passed him. As expected, she saw two missives on the table to the side of the seating area. One was in familiar handwriting, a note from Neve saying she would be gone for a while longer to check on her contacts, friends, people she cared about. Bianca wondered what it would be like when she returned. She understood Neve’s feelings completely, and would have felt the same if she were in her shoes. Still, she hoped Neve would be able to understand Bianca’s reasoning – she didn’t abandon Minrathous, she sent Bellara and Harding there. They were fierce and capable and cared for Neve just as much as she did. So why was all Neve’s anger directed at her? She sighed and set down the letter, reaching for the other one. Short, succinct, with handwriting she didn’t recognize. 

B – meet me. tonight. same time, same place. – A The paper fluttered out of her hand to the floor. He was alive.

[tuuliivanovas]

Finally getting to play again and I never bring the girls anywhere nice :/

[cinquecolonnemagazine]

Deu seu

Deu seuTottu custu tempuschi arribat cun tuiin s' oru 'e su zunchiude unu coi pira Seu arroca perdosainnui s' arrexini de su zinibirinci acciuvat po arresistia su ' entu estuforas 'e si truncai Seu mari inchietu e sperefunduma cun undas lebias carinniucun druciura s' arena bianca Seu terra sicada chi s' orbadabrabattat po si preni de spigasde arvures de frutta saboria Seu murdegu biancu, moddizzi e tuvaranuscosama seu puru tiria ferenada e arrabiosa Seu su mengianu arrubianciuchi donat luxi moddi e delicadaseu su scurigadroxiuchi mi scopiat in brenti e in su coru Seu prupa e ossu chi si mudat in pruiniseu anima in circa de s' eternidadichi sempiri mi fuit. --- Io sonoTutto questo tempo/ che arriva con te /sul ciglio del grido /di una cicala /Sono roccia granitica/ dove le radici del ginepro sprofondano/per resistere al maestrale senza spezzarsi/Sono mare inquieto e abissale ma con onde leggere / accarezzo dolcemente la riva / Sono terra arida/ che l' aratro con forza rivolta / per riempirla di spighe e di frutti saporiti/ Sono cisto bianco ,lentisco ed erica profumata / ma sono anche pungitopo spinoso e insidioso/ Sono l 'alba rosa che dà luce tenue e delicata/ sono tramonto che esplode/ nel mio cuore e nel mio ventre/Sono carne e ossa/ che si trasformano in polvere/Sono anima in cerca dell'Infinito e dell' Eterno/che sempre mi sfuggono…. Sa Murta - Maria Rita Farris Foto di copertina generata con Copilot per Cinque Colonne Magazine Read the full article

[antivanism]

[m2024a]

I dispersi nel Natisone, la ricostruzione (e gli errori): il divieto di balneazione, la ragazza che non sapeva nuotare, l'allerta e il video girato dal ponte Non sapeva nuotare. Una delle ragazze travolte dal fiume Natisone non aveva le conoscenze adatte per guadare il corso d'acqua in piena. «È questo quanto ci risulta», rivela il sindaco di Premariacco, Michele De Sabata, al Quotidiano Nazionale. La tragedia, forse, si sarebbe potuta evitare. Alcuni errori sarebbero stati fatali. Patrizia Cormos, Bianca Doros e Cristian Casian Molnar: chi sono i giovani travolti dal fiume Natisone. «Una passeggiata dopo l'esame» Il divieto di balneazione e l'allerta Una prima imprudenza riguarda il divieto assoluto di balneazione. Nella zona in cui i tre ragazzi sono stati travolti dalle acque in piena c'è pericolo di annegamento. I cartelli sono affissi in tutta l'area. I rischi principali sono legati proprio a piene improvvise del fiume. Non solo. Appena dopo il ponte Romano il corso d'acqua attraversa delle forre (sostanzialmente dei canyon) molto insidiose in cui la velocità della corrente si impenna improvvisamente. L'allerta meteo La seconda disattenzione riguarda l'allerta meteo. Il giorno in cui i tre giovani sono stata travolti dal fiume c'era un bollettino delle protezione civile che avvisava di possibili allagamenti e disagi in tutto il Friuli Venezia Giulia (soprattutto a Lignano, ma anche in tutto il Nordest). Chi ha girato il video I tre sono avvistati da un passante che ha lanciato l'allarme. Numerose altre persone si sono fermate sul ponte e hanno assistito impotenti alla drammatica scena in cui i tre, vinti dalla corrente, si lasciano andare nel tentativo di agganciare la fune protesa dai vigili del fuoco (ma mancano la presa). C'è chi si è scagliato contro l'autore del filmato (poi diventato in breve tempo virale). Ma nessuno sarebbe potuto intervenire senza rischiare la vita. Scarsa conoscenza del fiume? L'altro aspetto controverso è la mancata preparazione dei giovani. «I ragazzi sono entrati in "spiaggia" senza acqua e con il sole - scrive su Facebook il sindaco di Premariacco -. Da lì a pochi minuti sono rimasti sorpresi e accerchiati dalle acque, se conoscevano il fiume e il posto sarebbero scappati. Purtroppo, non sapendo, hanno perso l'attimo alcuni secondi e l'acqua ha preso velocità tale da non permettere di poter trovare il contatto né ai 2 volontari scesi a dare una mano né a Cristian (che si è tuffato e subito tornato indietro dalle ragazze) né al pompiere che nell'ultimo tentativo disperato si è tuffato in direzione dei ragazzi». «Sembra di poter concludere che avevano una scarsa conoscenza del fiume - dice il sindaco di Premariacco al QN -. Le piene del Natisone si ripetono 5 volte all’anno. Logico che quando piove al nord l’invaso si riempie in un attimo. Per 360 giorni nel fiume si fa balneazione, io stesso abito qua. Il problema è che quei ragazzi non sapevano nulla di questo». «Non sapeva nuotare» L'errore più grande sarebbe quello di avventurarsi per una gita nel fiume senza saper nuotare. Cosa è successo da quando i ragazzi arrivano fino al momento in cui intervengono i soccorsi? "L’acqua è alta meno di un metro, sui 50 centimetri - dice il sindaco -. Ma la corrente è fortissima. Il ragazzo avrebbe provato ad attraversarla, ma poi torna indietro e desiste, il vortice è troppo violento. Così decidono di aspettare i soccorsi. Una delle ragazze a quanto risulta non sapeva nuotare. Sono a 10 metri da riva. Si trovano di fatto su un isolotto, perché ora il fiume scorre anche a destra rispetto alla lingua di terra. Si abbracciano, tentano di resistere alla corrente”. I soccorsi "disperati" Quando arrivano i soccorritori si prova a recuperare i tre con le corde. "Lo fanno per tre volte - prosegue il sindaco -. Ma non solo. Un vigile del fuoco si butta, in un tentativo disperato di salvataggio. Rischia la vita, lo recuperano a stento. La furia della corrente non permette altri interventi, nemmeno con la barca. Chi era sul ponte ha capito che non c’era più nulla da fare”.