#he couldn’t control spite when illario killed zara

[trevisos]

they make me so fucking sick. GOD

[himluv]

Losing Control

Oh my goodness! My last post for my Rookanis fic, Say My Name (Say it Twice), received SO MUCH LOVE?! You all are amazing and I am just floating around on a fanfic author cloud of joy. Thank thank thank you!

If you want to catch up, or read again from the beginning, you can read it over on AO3.

Lucanis woke with a start. Blood. Everywhere, blood. Up to his elbows, soaked in his leathers, splashed on his face. He would never be rid of it, never be rid of Zara. She was soaked into his skin.

NO! Spite growled. Zara. Is. Dead.

Lucanis blinked and the bloody haze of his memory faded to the familiar dark of the pantry. He sat up and groaned at the ache in his head. He felt like he’d drank Viago’s entire liquor cabinet. 

“How did we–”

Rook.

Right. Of course Rook would get him back to the Lighthouse. He just didn’t remember any of it. He remembered the fight. Mierda, the blood. So much blood, the iron stink and persistent itch behind his eyes would stay with him for a long time. 

He remembered Zara offering to talk, to give up the traitorous Crow who had sold him out. And then–

Illario. Spite growled his cousin’s name, like he wanted nothing more than to shred the man to pieces.

Lucanis rubbed his eyes. “Fucking illario.”

Used blood magic, Spite seethed. On. US!

“What?”

Yessssss. Remember?

A wave of distorted purple images flashed through Lucanis’s mind. The metallic tang of blood filled his nose and mouth, so potent it made him gag. But he was helpless against the images. He could not look away, could not block them out. He had no choice but to watch as his cousin broke Zara’s neck in just one hand. As Lucanis lunged for the only family he had left and struggled for control of his own dagger. 

He heard his voice, yelling for help. For Rook. And then Illario pressed a hand to his chest. “That’s enough,” he said, and Lucanis fell back to stare up at his cousin. Illario stared down at him, anger, pity, and a hint of fear warring over his face. Then he raised a hand and said, “relent.”

Lucanis remembered nothing after that.

“How? He isn’t a mage.”

Neither. Are. You!

He shook his head. “But, that was Zara–”

Yessss, Zara, Spite growled. He. Betrayed. You! Betrayed US!

“No,” he said. But, even as he did, he couldn’t deny that something was very, very wrong with his cousin. Lucanis might have a heart, might be too sentimental, but he was not a fool. “I need coffee.”

Lucanis got dressed and tried not to think about how all that blood had been washed from his skin. 

Mages, Spite said. 

Lucanis sighed, but let the matter drop. When he stepped out into the dining hall, he was greeted by the smell of coffee. Rook sat before the fireplace, a cup cradled in both hands. Mierda. Rook. She had seen him… like that. Out of control. Had seen him nearly kill the only family he had left. What must she think of him?

She looked up at the sound of the pantry door opening and gave him a brittle smile. “You’re awake.”

“Yes,” he said. He approached the percolator with some trepidation. “You made this?”

“I did,” she said. “It’s…” she tilted her head from side to side. “Drinkable.”

He sighed, but poured a cup and took a cautious sip. He suppressed a cough as he worked down the bitter brew. Mierda, what did she do?

“At least I didn’t boil it,” she said. 

“I would never forgive you if you had.”

She smiled at that, but was a fragile thing. They both knew they were avoiding the unpleasant conversation that came next. 

He sighed again and took another bracing sip from his cup. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you. And…” he shook his head. “There aren’t words enough to apologize. I never wanted you to see me like that.” He didn’t want anyone to see him like that, least of all her. 

Her smile was sad, but genuine. Her crystal grace eyes unflinching as she met his gaze. “And yet, I’m still here.”

He wanted to shake her, to yell at her that she shouldn’t be. That she should run far, far away from him. But, selfishly, he couldn’t bear to think about how it would feel if she walked away from him right now. So he stuffed those feelings down and moved on, like he always did.

“We need to talk about Illario.”

Spite growled as he paced back and forth before the fire. 

Rook nodded, her eyes distant as she stared into the flames. “He wants you to stay away from Treviso,” she said. Her voice was dull and passionless, as unimpressed with Illario’s wishes as she was by the man himself. “From the Crows. He thinks you’re a danger to your family.”

“He’s not wrong,” Lucanis said. 

Her head snapped up, a glint of outrage in her eyes. 

“If I cannot stay in control…” he shook his head. Even if Illario had betrayed him, Lucanis would never forgive himself if he’d killed his cousin.

Bah! Spite spat. Deserves it!

Lucanis ignored the demon. “He used blood magic to control Spite.”

Rook frowned. “What? How? He’s not a mage.”

He looked down at his cup, the liquid steaming gently. “I don’t know,” he said. “But something’s not right.”

Zara, Spite hissed. 

Rook fidgeted with her cup, rotating it idly while she considered his words. Finally, she shook her head. “I didn’t say anything, because he’s your cousin,” she said.

“… but?”

The look in her eyes was pure apology. “The night you were captured, did Illario know you were boarding that ship?”

His stomach clenched and a chill cascaded down his spine. He’d asked himself this question countless times in the Ossuary, and no matter how many loopholes he contrived, the answer was always the same. 

This time it was his voice that was devoid of any feeling. It had to be, or he’d lose control all over again. “Yes.”

Betrayed. You, Spite said. Hurt. US!

“Maybe there’s an explanation,” Rook said. Lucanis might admire her eternal optimism if he wasn’t convinced it would get her killed one day. 

“There’d better be,” he said. “For my cousin’s sake.” 

Rook met his gaze, and he knew it matched his tone – dark and lethal. She understood him in a professional sense, knew he excelled in bringing death to powerful mages who deserved it. But that was work, clinical and precise with no emotions attached. If Illario had betrayed him, then this was personal. It would get ugly. Better she understood that now.

“Rook,” he said. “If he did– If I have to–” Mierda, he couldn’t even say it. 

“I’m with you, Lucanis.” She said it so quickly, so firmly. As if she had no doubts.

Why?

The answer to that question scared him more than he liked to admit. It made him want to hope for something he shouldn’t. 

Rook.

But, after what happened? Losing control so completely? No matter how badly he might want to pursue these feelings, he couldn’t do that to her. She deserved better than an abomination. Which meant he needed to draw that line between them again.

He didn’t think he was strong enough otherwise. 

He looked down and shook his head. “I need proof,” he said. “I’ll talk with Teia and Viago.” He turned away and headed back toward the pantry. “I’ll let you know when I have something.”

Lucanis didn’t wait for her response, but he still caught the confusion and worry in her voice when she said, “okay.”

Then the pantry door closed, cutting off Rook’s voice and sinking Lucanis back into silence.

[visceralcoma]

So I've been replaying the "Inner Demons" quest for Lucanis. I wanted to collect as much from it as possible for...reasons. All the notes that are "Thought Fragments" and all the echoes we hear as we travel through it. And I got different echoes the few times i played through it and I don't know if there are more lines, feel free to add more but these are the ones I gathered.

Echoes:

Calivan: Useless. All of this. Utterly useless.

Zara: Promoted from flying vermin to malicious spirit. Whatever will you become next, I wonder?

Illario: How long are you going to keep doing this?

Venatori: You should be grateful to give your life to the magister’s research, what an honor!

Zara: Envy is the rarest of all demons. And most challenging to cultivate. The conditions must be perfect. Illario: Cousin stop, you can’t dwell on this. It’ll drive you mad.

Calivan: Couldn’t you simply die already? This experiment has gone on for far too long.

Zara: What trouble you’ve been.

Illario: I get one of you back, only to lose the other.

Illario: Caterina was First Talon. This is Crow Business. We can handle it.

Venatori (lady): When the demon emerges, let me have his entrails, my lady.

Illario: If I were in charge, you wouldn’t have to do this anymore. Zara: What are you hiding, little demon?

Illario: I can’t believe it. You’re home.

Venatori: Ah yes, the Crow. You will learn to regret your crimes against the Venatori.

Thought Fragments:

With Caterina

She gave that ring to my mother. It was the mark of her favor. House Velardo killed my parents and sent it back to Caterina… (So few of us left…)

What if I go after him and get Caterina killed… (All I have left…)

…but we’re more like brothers. Caterina took us both in…(All we had left…)

With Lace

I shouldn’t have let myself fall asleep. This was my mistake… (Spite is here.)

If I cannot stay in control…(Spite is waiting.)

You’d have to kill me…(And Spite would die.)

With Neve

…there aren’t words enough to apologize…(I cannot be this.)

I was distracted. That cannot happen again. I need to get my head on straight… (I’m better than this.)

I didn’t want you to see that. Again…(I’m not this. I cannot be this.)

With Illario

What is he thinking? How am I supposed to deal with this… (What have you done?)

She came after me. She came after Caterina. She will come for you too… (Cousin, what about you?)

Scents:

And here are the scent Spite describes for us. Lace doesn't get a description. Spite also describes Neve's differenlty depending on whether Lucanis's relationship with her is Platonic or romantic.

Caterina: Tenderness and terror. Rage and relief. Old, stale fear of disappointment.

Neve:

Platonic: Strangeness and charm. Something familiar and foreign at the same time. With a little guilt.

Romancing: Stomach churning excitement. Dread with a hint of hope. A long way to fall.

Illario: Sharp. Jagged edges. Hurt with every breath. Grief and relief. Hope and anger. Mixed.