#bianca de riva

[weaveandwood]

The Snake and The Crow: The Celebration

Pairing: The Viper x Female Rook (Bianca, an Antivan Crow mage) Words: 2.9K Rating: NSFW!

Summary: The Shadows celebrate a rebellion's beginnings. Bianca and Ashur sneak off for some time alone after a night of drinking and revelry.

AN: Something smutty and lighthearted after weeks of angst, I needed this for my mental health. Can be read as a one shot! Read on AO3! Previous Chapter

DOCK TOWN, TWO WEEKS BEFORE THE DRAGON ATTACK

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Not when she was like this—cheeks flushed red from the cheap Minrathous wine, her head thrown back, laughing loudly at a bad joke someone had made. The smoke in the room made everything hazy, but not her. She remained resplendently clear in his vision. He watched her from his spot across the room, half listening to conversation going on around him. Every time her eyes met his as she took another drink, his magic sparked to life, wanting to push him up from his spot to go to her side. 

She laughed again, the sound resonant as a bell ringing from the Chantry. He wasn’t sure if it was the mood, the smoke, or something else talking but he wanted to press his lips against hers and swallow her laughter so it could be only his. He wanted to kiss along her jawline to her ear and whisper something that only she would understand. Her smile would be accompanied by an even deeper flush, one that he knew would spread down her chest, one that he would gladly chase. 

“Don’t you agree?” Tarquin said. 

“About?” Ashur replied, tearing his eyes away from her for the first time in what felt like hours, though he knew it was only minutes. He didn’t want to miss the way the dim lighting played off the curls in her hair, or how the orange light from the fire made her blue eyes somehow deeper. 

“Ashur, have you heard a word of this entire conversation?” Tarquin’s voice had that edge to it he got sometimes when he was losing patience. “We’ve been trying to decide the next steps for taking down that warehouse. We started that rebellion today, but we need to go after the bastard in–”

“Quin,” Ashur laughed, clapping his friend on his shoulder. “Relax! We did a good thing today, and this is a celebration. They are far too few these days and will get fewer still.” He found himself drifting back to looking at her. The entire world could fall away from him when she was near and he wouldn’t notice. “So celebrate! Enjoy this night while we have it.” 

Tarquin followed Ashur’s line of sight to where it settled on Bianca. He sighed and leaned in, dropping his voice slightly.

“You could at least try to be a little less obvious, you know.” 

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Ashur said, feigning innocence. “I’m going to go talk to Rook, she fought well today.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you’re only going to talk to her. Just…remember what I said, okay? Though I know there’s no stopping you—I know that look in your eyes, and I know there is a shit-eating grin under that mask of yours. Please make sure the door is closed this time, alright? Highbloods ,” he cursed softly as Ashur got up and started to make his way across the room.

By the time he finally managed to get to Bianca, no less than ten Shadows had stopped him to offer congratulations on another successful rebellion, another threat to the Minrathous status quo. He felt her eyes on him as he told each one that they were the ones who really made it happen, that he was only one piece of an important puzzle. He heard the gentle sound of her laughter directed at him after the fifth time, then the seventh, eighth, ninth. The one downside to being The Viper, he supposed. However, the one benefit to being The Viper in this moment was that once he finally arrived at his destination, the person next to her quickly vacated their seat, leaving the two of them alone. 

“Enjoying your first Shadows celebration?” he asked, reaching across her to grab the bottle of wine at her side to refill her cup. His arm brushed against her chest, and he smiled to himself when he heard her breath catch. 

She nodded, taking a long drink. “It’s a very different feeling from Crow celebrations. You’re celebrating because you saved people. We usually celebrate when we kill someone important,” she smiled at him. “Or when a fledgling is made a full member of the flock.”

“Oh believe me, we celebrate when we take down someone important too. We’re not so different. What is a Crow party like?”

“Well, louder, for sure. Some are formal. Much more alcohol, less smoke,” she said as he took a deep drag from the hookah in front of them, filling his lungs before he exhaled, the cloud of smoke coming out from the bottom of his mask before joining the rest of the haze in the room. “Initiations are the real parties though. I honestly don’t remember most of mine. Woke up with these, in fact,” she laughed, motioning to her scars. “I had always planned on getting them after being initiated, just not that night! Shock of my life to wake up hungover and covered in bandages. Viago, my Talon—the leader of my house—had to tell me what happened and he still hasn’t let me live it down. I think that’s when he started calling me Idiot. I don’t tell a lot of people that story, for my own reputation. Consider yourself lucky,” she said, bumping her shoulder into his. 

He did. 

She smiled into her cup before taking another long drink, the memory clearly a pleasant one for her. Seeing her like this, getting to know her outside of the work, outside of whatever it was they were doing…it felt normal. It felt good. It felt right. She finished her drink and tilted it at him to refill once more. He gladly obliged. 

The two sat by each other for quite some time, exchanging stories of missions gone wrong, narrow escapes, how smaller victories felt like they meant more than larger ones sometimes, their laughter echoing off the walls of the hideout. He had no idea what time it was, but his hand was on her thigh and her fingertips were tracing lazy circles on his forearm under the table, his coat long discarded. The party was winding down, the room occupied by only a few Shadows deep in their cups. 

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked, resting her chin on her other hand.

“How about a question for a question?” he said, getting a small smile out of her. 

“Alright, a question for a question,” she nodded before leaning over to him, her face close to the side of his head, he could feel her warm breath on his ear. 

“Is your office open,” she whispered, “or do I need to use my lockpicks?” 

“It’s unlocked,” he said before lowering his voice as well. “I’ll meet you there. Don’t—”

“I know, I know, be sneaky. Assassin, remember? Sneaky is my second nature,” she smiled as she got up, taking her drink with her. “Don’t keep me waiting,” she whispered into his ear from behind him. 

He watched her walk away, already missing her presence by his side. He waited nearly a quarter hour before going after her, enough time for people to have forgotten she went down the hallway to the office instead of taking a right to the eluvian room. He made quick eye contact with Tarquin, who just rolled his eyes and shook his head, though he did see the barest hint of a smile on his face. He knew he would not hear the end of this tomorrow. 

But that was a problem for tomorrow. 

He opened the door to his office, taking care to make sure it was shut and locked before unclasping his mask. He was greeted with a small pile of clothes near the entrance and Bianca lounging on the couch, completely naked and sipping on her wine. 

“There you are,” she said. 

“Am I always going to find you naked in here?” he smiled, leaning against the far wall. His gaze raked over her body–the way her legs were folded under her, the way her curls laid on the armrest, the curve of her stomach to her hips. 

“Are you complaining?” she smiled. Her eyes flicked down his body. 

“Never. I would probably take more breaks, to be honest.”

“Then take off your clothes and come here.” 

He did not need to be asked twice, and quickly removed his shirt, pants, and smallclothes, taking her cue and leaving them in a small heap next to hers. He moved to her, finally able to act on the impulses that had been coursing through his body the entire night as he sat on the couch next to her. He took the cup from her hands and took a long drink before setting it out of the way on the floor. She laid her legs across his lap and he spent long minutes slowly tracing his fingers up and down the length of them.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long?” he finally asked, breaking the easy silence.

“I was just about to give up on you,” she teased.

“Nothing could keep me away, especially when this is involved,” he said, moving over her and settling between her now parted legs. He pressed his lips to the soft skin of her neck, sucking lightly. He wanted to leave a mark, to give her something to remember this night by, but restrained himself, just barely–his resolve nearly unraveling when a soft sigh escaped her lips. He kissed a path from her jawline to her chin before finally making his way to her mouth. He felt the sparks as he always did when their lips touched, hers parting slightly for him as his tongue pressed past their boundary to slide against hers. She tasted of wine, the sweetness mingling perfectly with the fruity smoke still on his breath.

“Noted,” she smiled against his kiss. She reached a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her, while the other hand lightly scratched up and down his spine. He let out a soft groan. Maker , he almost wanted to stop everything and just have her scratch his back for the next hour, but then her hips brushed against his and he was singularly focused once more.

His hand moved up the side of her body from her waist to her breast, covering it and feeling the nipple get hard under the weight of his palm. There simply wasn’t enough of him–he wanted to keep his lips on hers, he wanted to taste her skin, he wanted to taste her . He lowered his head to trail kisses down her neck, the hollow of her throat, her collarbone, a jolt going through him each time her breath caught when he pressed his lips against her skin. He followed the curve of her scars to her other breast, sucking and biting her nipple gently, her soft moans and the scratch of her nails now against his scalp delighting him. He wondered if her magic reacted to him in the same way his did to her. If she too was constantly sparking, swirling fire inside, waves of lightning followed by the lick of flames when they were in each other’s presence. 

He sat up on his knees and stared at her once more. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered, his fingertips tracing lines up her thighs, the soft skin marred every now and then by scars, evidence of the danger she put herself in daily. It was easy to imagine her, as fierce and powerful as he had seen, escaping every fight, every battle unscathed. These marks were proof that she was not. She had told him the first night they were together that she doubted she would come out of this alive. He wondered if there was anything he could do to make sure that wasn’t the case. 

He meandered a path across her body with his fingertips–thighs, hips, stomach, avoiding where he desperately wanted to touch the most until she laughed again at his teasing. He smiled. This laugh belonged to him and him alone. He reached her center, parting her and finding her wet and wanting. His fingers circled her clit, feeling himself getting harder each time she gasped, soft pleas of “more” reaching his ears. He dragged his fingers to her entrance, sliding in one before quickly adding a second. She was so warm around him, her hips starting to rock against his hand. 

He couldn’t resist any longer–he needed to taste her, as if she were the finest meal in all of Tevinter and he would never eat again. He leaned down, his tongue now pressed to her clit before closing his lips around it, sucking gently as he curled his fingers inside her with each slow thrust. She arched her back against the cushions and curses fell from her lips while his hand and mouth worked in tandem to bring her to her peak. She responded by tensing up and shuddering against him, cries of “Yes” ringing through the office as he tasted her pleasure. 

He positioned himself over her, kisses peppered along her body as he moved, taking extra time to kiss the scars between her breasts. He was hard as steel, pressed into her hip. He wanted her. He needed her. Needed this. 

“You never asked your question,” she said softly, flushed and panting underneath him as she came down from that blissful high. Maker, she was stunning. He thought it every time he looked at her, but it remained as true today as it was when he met her in that alleyway all those weeks ago. He lowered himself to kiss her gently. 

“You’re right. I’ll make it easy, hopefully,” he said before whispering into her ear. “Do you want me?” 

“Yes. Now.”

“Good,” he said as he positioned himself, needing to be inside her. She angled her hips just so and he pressed in, feeling her warm tightness give around him as he sheathed himself within her. “Because I want you,” he whispered as he kissed the side of her neck once more, unsure if he might have meant more than being inside her. Her legs wrapped around him, pressing him deeper. 

Slow thrusts soon quickened, driven by desire and her requests for "More, more, Ashur, more…” If anyone walked near his office tonight, they would immediately know what was happening. He didn’t care. Not tonight, when she was writhing underneath him and making those noises. Let everyone know he was with her. 

He shifted, grabbing one of her legs and moving it to his shoulder, the movement changing the angle of her hips and letting him even deeper inside her. Her thigh pressed against her chest as he held her tighter and drove into her roughly, long strokes punctuated by the snap of his hips against hers. Her hands grasped at his arms, fingertips digging into tanned skin. He wanted her to hold tighter, to leave bruises that would remain so he could have something of her after the haze of smoke and alcohol cleared from the hideout and he was left alone again with nothing but memories, waiting for the next time she would come through the eluvian. Two days had started to feel too long. 

He felt her start to tighten up around him, her body going still beneath his as she raced to her peak once more. If he had been holding back at all, he wasn’t anymore. His thrusts came harder, faster, thoroughly fucking her as he felt the edge of his own precipice drawing near. She reached between them, her fingers tracing circles on her own clit. That was an image he would keep in his memory for days when she didn’t come see him. 

“I–I’m so…” she trailed off, unable to finish her thought before she cried out loudly, clapping a hand over her mouth a second too late as she came hard around him, her body shaking as her orgasm crashed over her in waves of pleasure. 

The feeling of her pulsing and fluttering around him drove him ever and ever closer to his own peak, toeing the line between sanity and flying off the edge into the sweetest bliss. He kept a relentless pace, the tension that had settled low in his stomach moving lower and lower still, her hands on his hips, her hips rocking into his to meet each thrust. He was so close, so…

“Come for me, Ashur,” she whispered into his ear.

He came undone. With one last snap of his hips and a strangled cry, he felt himself spill his release into her. Sweaty and panting, he released her leg and collapsed on top of her, pressing praises and kisses into her scarred shoulder.  

“You…you are…” he whispered, unable to form coherent thought just yet. 

“Amazing? Wonderful? Fun to take to bed–or couch I suppose?” she laughed. 

He smiled and kissed her once more. He knew within minutes she would be dressing again, on her way to the eluvian back to the Lighthouse in the Fade. Still, as he looked down at her, brushing away an errant curl that was sticking to the slight sheen of sweat on her forehead, he wished time could slow down and he would have a few more hours to spend like this, happy and blissful and at peace. Just Ashur and Bianca. 

He supposed that meant something, but he wasn’t ready to think about it.

“All of the above.”

[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]

[rebeldeway]

[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

[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)

[trillian-n7]

Dwarves

Warden - Sereda Aeducan | Katja Brosca Inquisitor - Valka Cadash | Edric Cadash Rook - Valka Laidir | Rurik Aldwir

Humans

Warden - Edda Cousland | Caitriona Cousland | Irith Amell Hawke - Alys Hawke | Marisol Hawke | Gideon Hawke | Emmett Hawke Inquisitor - Gwendolyn Trevelyan | Maxwell Trevelyan Rook - Camille Ingellvar | Nikolai de Riva | Valeria Thorne

Elves

Warden - Eilidh Tabris Inquisitor - Saoirse Lavellen | Aisling Lavellan Rook - Livia Stella Mercar | Svetti de Riva

Notes and family relationships: - All Inquisitors are sibling pairs, the world state determines who attended the Divine Conclave. - Valka Cadash and Valka Laidir are the same person, the Veilguard version is where she did not attend the Divine Conclave. - Rurik was adopted as a baby by a travelling elven merchant. He is the son of Varric and Bianca though no-one is aware of this fact apart from his adoptive mother. - Edric still ended up involved with Dorian when his sister was the Inquisitor. They met between between the events of Inquisition and Trespasser. - Nikolai and Svetti are my idea of two 'Rooks'. They are codependent characters of mine that I imaging Varric got a 'two-for-one' deal from Viago (though Viago was just glad to get Svetti out of his hair!). - Valeria is the daughter of Eilidh Tabris and Alistair. She does not know who her parents are, just that one was a Grey Warden.

[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.

[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]

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

[jacopocioni]

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

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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

[antivanism]

[rebeldeway]