#ignore errors i wrote this very hastily and was too excited

[treviso-nights]

how far art thou fallen from heaven — a multichapter solrook tale

rating: M ch.1 word count: 1.3k summary: rook ends up in the regret-prison with solas after a nightmare. he taunts her, and she responds in kind, but worse. one way or another, solas is going to realize: varric chose rook to stop him for a reason. (ch.1 of my new obsession. will update description + tags as I proceed)

A/N: for my moot, @dirthavhen but also for me and the rest of us on this journey bc what the shit 😭

read on AO3

The first time Rook has a nightmare is not the last.

But it is the first time Solas has ever gazed at her without the searing contempt so heavy in every expression he's ever made in her direction. 

Rook, gasping, presses a trembling hand to her face. At once, her circumstances are a little clearer—the fuzzy, ever-shifting texture of the magical atmosphere minutely less alarming.

Her next breath is a ghost, and she does not know the name or the color of it, precisely, but she is content to see it go. "Solas? Am I dreaming?"

Irritation blooms across his face, its petals unfurling at the corners of his eyes, nose, and mouth. "You were dreaming," he declared. "Or, rather, you were having a nightmare. Truth be told, it was a little incomprehensible, even to myself."

"A nightmare?" she echoes. Despite her Crow training, Rook is too slow to banish the disorientation churning at the forefront of her conscious mind. She is even slower to mask the lingering confusion slackening her features, though when she does realize this nakedness, her mouth twists angrily.

Her next words are a snarl. "You were spying on my dreams?"

And even from across the divide of his prison, Rook can see the exact moment Solas scoffs by the curious way his throat bobs above his robe's collar. "I did no such thing," he refutes. "Must I always need to remind you of our connection every time you cannot discern why it is present?"

The Fade around them curdles at the word 'connection '. Or, maybe, it’s just Rook, the very word a poison dagger she wishes to remove from her mouth and throw into the Dread Wolf’s heart. 

Or his cock.

if he has one.

Because how is she supposed to know he really does?

“Fine,” she spits, scanning their surroundings with almond eyes. Each iris flashes silver in the Fade, their icy hue tempered only by the rings of pine-green around the pupils. “Then how did I end up here?” With you, is the true accusation, sounding off around her in the cannon-fire of their uneasy truce. 

The subsequent twitch of Solas's mouth lets Rook know that she’s already lost the round. 

“I imagine, in your distress,” he begins, folding both hands behind him, “Your psyche retreated from the chaos and by instinct, migrated to another, more familiar location in the Fade—this one, in fact, by virtue of the blood magic linking us together.” 

Several of lilac-colored curls rips free of Rook’s braid, their ends thrashing against her still-pallid complexion. 

“In other words,” Solas says, his next smile a mockery of the affable, polite mask he usually favors, “You came to me.”

Rook swears. Colorfully.

Normally, the Crow would not reveal this much of herself to an enemy, but she is tired, and shaken, and the nightmare—nebulous as it now is—continues to catch on all the sharpened edges of her. For a moment, Rook cannot even bear to look at the mage because she does not want to see the hoisted banner of his undeniable victory dance in the Fade’s ambient wind.

But, as always, the Dread Wolf waits for her. It is not until she reluctantly brings her gaze back to him that he asks, “Out of an unadulterated—if not ill-informed—curiosity, what were you dreaming about?” 

Rook has no intention to answer, of course. Nor does she find it amusing to watch him tilt his head as if he were a coy lover, exposing a long, unblemished span of neck which would be so, so easy to pierce—

“—There was something about… a hand?” he muses, gray-violet eyes turning to the softly roiling sky. “And… a door?” 

This time, Rook does not allow Solas to see how this rips through her like a killing blow. She does not permit a single muscle to breathe or expand inside her body. She obscures this—all of it. The way her blood turns to acid, the way her chest implodes, the way cold sweat gurgles on the back of her neck.

No, not this. She will never give him this.

It is only through sheer willpower that she is able to stay atop her feet. But she does. Rook’s answering smirk, a cruel, little thing, is suddenly an antidote to the nausea flowing in her gut. Solas, recognizing an obvious preclude before an attack, stiffens in response.

“I don’t know, Solas,” Rook replies, casually flicking her long braid over a shoulder. “Dreams sure are strange, huh? I wonder what you dream about, which failure hits you the hardest, though there’s already so many of them. I mean, keeping count at your old, decrepit age, right?”

When he doesn’t answer, Rook’s smirk grows teeth, and she taps a forefinger to her chin, deliberating. “Oh, oh! let me guess. Are your dreams about… your homeland? Not the Fade, I mean. But you know! The homeland that the very ancient, very dead elves built after you tranquil’d and destroyed the titans.”

To the untrained eye, one could so easily miss the tightening of the Dread Wolf’s shoulders, straining as he undoubtedly squeezes his palms together behind him.

“No?” Rook prompts. She begins to pace, walking toe-to-heel on her side of the regret-prison. “Hm… what about Felassan? Your sexy, also-ancient, also-dead best friend that you murdered in cold blood?”

Rook snickers. 

“Creators, what a fucking waste. If I was stuck in here with him, he and I would be doing a lot more than talking if you know what I mean. ”

Peeking from a peripheral, Rook watches Solas grit his teeth.

“I’m still off, aren’t I?”

Because if he is going to remain in her head, Rook had already decided long ago that the burden of his magical fumbling would weigh entirely upon him—as is only fitting for the elven god of lies, trickery, and deceit.

“I guess, if I was absolutely forced to keep guessing,” Rook chuckles, “I would bet my mortal, worthless life that your dreams are actually about her.”

The abrupt, almost violent, dilation of Solas's pupils tips her off.

Bingo.

“Tell me Solas: how did Mythal’s body feel in your arms after personally snuffing out what little, withered life remained from her first death?”

“Enough,” the Dread Wolf hisses. Drawing himself up to his full height, Solas nearly vibrates with rage, the pale violet in his eyes blown black with fury. “I take your point. I see now that nothing more can be gained from such fruitless, idiotic banter. Forgive me, mortal, for having tried.”

Now that the cut had landed where she’d aimed, Rook stows her grin away, the transition in expressions almost jarring. 

“Stay out of my past, and I’ll stay out of yours,” she promises, though she can’t help the slight tilt to her head at that. 

“Well… maybe. I am a liar and an assassin by trade.”

“And I the bane of all your worldly nightmares, I suppose?”

“Not all,” Rook says, and she means it. Their gazes—pale lavender and ice-green—clash.

After another moment’s deliberation, Solas sighs, inclining his head in agreement. “So be it. I might wish you fairer dreams, but I am not in the habit of doing so, and I see no reason to begin now.”

“Alas, I might wish you a better… prison, but I just don’t.”

At that, Solas smirks. “You should be able to wake more easily now that you are here. Simply think of the Lighthouse, and you will find yourself awakening within a matter of moments.”

Rook nods, a small, reluctant gesture. 

“Good luck, Rook,” Solas says, hands again folding behind his back. “You will need it.”

And perhaps it is her imagination, but Rook trusts that it is not—that the bare, writhing malice within his eyes is real, and that that malice is a living, eager serpent preparing itself to strike.

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

For One More Hour or One More Day

Dukeceit Week Day 6: Horror/Comedy

Remus and Janus work in IT, and Remus never fails to make Janus' life a bit more exciting than it should be. Janus wouldn't have it any other way.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 1416

Warnings: swearing, typical Remus-levels of implied sexual content. 

@dukeceitweek <3

-

[06032021 Network Node Down- 172.12.203.1 - Dee Why ]

Janus stared at the next ticket in his queue. He didn't even have to look at which tech wrote it. He just knew. He picked up his phone and dialed. 

“'Sup, DeeDee?" 

"Because they use ancient technology and refuse to upgrade, that's why." 

There was a beat of silence on the line. Janus didn't need to see him to know Remus was grinning like a maniac. 

“Oh, JD, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," Remus said finally. His voice was laced with barely-contained glee. 

“Uh-huh, sure," Janus replied dryly. He watched on his screen as an incoming call diverted from his in-use line. "Do you want to clarify for me, in excruciating detail, what, exactly, it is that broke this time? After all, if it's something I can fix from here, it would save the company an awful lot of money. And you know how I love saving this company money." 

“You don't feel like taking work calls either, huh?" 

“Ree, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

-

[06142021 CRITICAL | Device failed Availability and Latency checks - Dispatch Requested]

Janus sat in his truck for a few minutes, cross-checking the address across his e-mail, Slack, and the ticket itself. And yeah, they all matched. This wasn’t a repeat of that time Remus had changed the address on the ticket from 96th St. to 69th St. as a joke. 

(Janus had almost gotten mugged. He was still a little salty about that one.)

But this time, all the addresses matched. The problem was, he was parked in front of a restaurant instead of the usual office building, and that just didn’t seem right. He opened up Slack on his phone. 

Janus D’lyre: Are you sure the address is right?

Remus Rey: Yeah, it’s right.

Janus D’lyre: It’s a restaurant. 

Remus Rey:  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Janus D’lyre: Are you positive it’s right?

Remus Rey: I just write the tickets, Dee, I don’t do a background check. Just go in.

Janus sighed. He got out of his truck, hefted his tech bag over his shoulder, and went inside.

It was a nice restaurant. Very fancy, with a goddamn chandelier hanging over the front lobby. Field engineers weren’t required to dress in a suit and tie, but Janus did by habit- and he was glad he did, because he would feel like a horrible slob standing here in jeans and a polo.

“Can I help you?”

Janus looked over to the host, standing at the counter with a bright smile that only looked 52% faked.

“Yes,” Janus answered. “I’m here about the network issues?”

“Oh!” The host- his name tag read ‘Patton’- brightened up a bit. “Yeah! Remus is waiting for you, this way!”

“Remus is what?”

It was too late. Patton had already darted around the counter and off into the dining area. Janus sighed and, regretting every life choice leading up to this exact moment, followed.

Sure enough, Remus was waiting for him. Patton led him to a quieter area of the restaurant, where Remus was sitting at a table. Well, sitting was a generous way to phrase it, because in reality, he was tipped back on the rear two legs of the chair, combat boot-clad feet up on the table. He jumped up eagerly at the sight of Janus, and somehow managed not to fall backwards and crack his skull open. 

“Hey! You made it! Thanks, Pat!” 

“No problemo!” the host replied with a grin before heading back to the front counter. Janus briefly considered that he might be having a fever dream right now.

“Remus, what the fuck?” 

“Told you it was the right address!”

Janus glared. “That is not what I’m ‘what the fuck’-ing you about.”

“I mean, I’d prefer me fucking you-”

“Remus.”

“Well, you work so hard, DeeDee,” Remus said calmly, as if he wasn’t standing in the middle of the fanciest restaurant on this side of town, dressed in his usual tank-top and leather vest combo and probably mashing dirt into the plush red carpet, and definitely doing something that should get him fired. “I thought you could take a break, and we could have a nice dinner.”

No, he wasn’t doing something that should get him fired. He was doing something that should get them both fired. 

“You’re joking, right?”

“Kinda a lame joke.”

“Remus, you had me dispatched to a random address for a fake problem, to have dinner with you on company time?”

“‘Course not, who do you think I am?”

Janus did not dignify that with an answer. He turned to walk away.

“Jannie, wait!” Remus darted around the table to get in front of him. Janus stopped, and glared. “This is Roman’s restaurant! It’s not a random address, he’s an actual client.”

Janus’ glare lessened. Ok, sure, they did have some smaller commercial clients. And sure, Remus had mentioned his brother’s restaurant was using them as tech support now after a bad experience with a different company. But- “It’s still a fake problem, Remus.”

A shit-eating grin spread across Remus’ face. “Nah. I unplugged the router.”

Janus snorted in a totally dignified manner. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“...Well, I suppose… I’d better investigate the issue. Couldn’t be solved remotely, hardware problem and all.”

Remus held out a hand. Janus took it, and let Remus lead him back to the table.

“Great, cause I already ordered!”

-

[06192021 Switch is problematic. Unable to get into the switch || Serial No. 111-0203-2018]

Janus very calmly cleared the ticket, set his work phone to away, pulled out his personal phone, and sent Remus a text. 

Jannie-D: I know you’re upset I didn’t let you fuck me last night. Get over it. 

Remster: i will not 

- 

Virgil Caligo: yo are u and remus like good?

Janus D’lyre: We had a small argument last night. Why?

Virgil Caligo: [image attached]

Janus sighed. Virgil had sent him a screenshot of a ticket update Remus had just posted.

[06292021 Ticket #00679 Update.] ‘The device is not only unresponsive to simple ping requests, but is being kind of a jerk about it. 100% package loss, a tragedy. Device was confirmed to be connected to a working power source, but they all say that, so who can really be sure. Dispatch requested, please confirm maintenance window. Actually showing up would be great, too.’

Janus hastily typed a message to Virgil. 

Janus D’lyre: Did you take that one?

Virgil Caligo: ya. logan didnt see dw

Janus D’lyre: Thanks. You can transfer it to me, I’ll take care of it. 

Janus leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. What a comedy of errors this day had been. It was the last time he’d forget he and Remus had a date night planned, that’s for sure. 

- 

Remus sighed when a priority ticket popped up in his queue. He was having a grand time ignoring his other queues in favor of sculpting a rather elaborate dick out of the green Play-Doh he kept at his desk, but he really did not feel like getting bitched out by Logan for missing a priority ticket. Grumbling to himself, he stuffed the Play-Doh back into its tub and opened the ticket. 

[06292021 Ticket #00679 Update.] ‘Likely a hardware bug. Possible remote fix with reset and reconfigure. Device information missing from online records. Please check file and update record.’ 

Fuck. Remus hated pulling files. What a pain. He trudged his way upstairs to the records room, which was always dark and depressing because nobody ever went there because who the fuck used physical paper in 2021?

But when he unlocked the door and pushed it open, the light was on. And every surface was covered in flowers.

“What the fuck?” Remus asked the flowers. They didn’t answer. But, at the small desk near the door, there was a stack of green boxes from his favorite bakery- and on top of that, he saw an envelope with his name on it. Eagerly, Remus tore open the envelope. 

Inside, he found a single sheet of Janus’ fancy stationery paper, the kind with the little holographic snakes along the edge that he only ever used for special occasions. And on that paper, one single sentence, penned in Janus’ elegant, flourishy handwriting: Ok, you can fuck me tonight.

- - -

[06292021 Ticket #00679 Update.] ‘I take it back, the device is no longer being a jerk, and I love the device very much.’ 

[queen-scribbles]

Top of the List

@pillarspromptsweekly fill #85: Spring. Adi gets this one, along with her best buds, because it’s been too long since I wrote them together.

There were many things Adela loved about spring. Better weather, birds singing, baby animals. It was also the time of year a lot of academics emerged from fours months ensconced in their toasty warm studies with new papers and treatises on a plethora of topics(not that she’d had time to track any of them down this year). But more than anything, she loved the flowers.

And this year--like last--she was getting to see a whole array of new ones. The Deadfire Archipelago had an even greater variety than the Dyrwood, given the wildly different climates on the various islands. There were some on Tikawara almost as big as Adela herself, and then ones not much bigger than a fingernail. All of them were fascinating, and beautiful in their own way, and after a little trial and error, Adela and Xoti had mostly figured out how to determine which ones were safe to touch.

“Adi, look at these!” Xoti crowed as she returned from scouting with a handful of pale pink blossoms. They looked like peonies, except fewer petals. “Ain’t they pretty?”

“Very,” she agreed with an enthusiastic grin. “Where’d you find them?”

“Over that way.” Xoti waved her free hand toward a hill that sat to the west of their campsite. “There’s a whole... I guess you’d call it a glen, with all kinds’a flowers I ain’t seen before. It’s beautiful, and it looked pretty safe.”

“Maybe we can go back after dinner,” Adela said, at the same moment Aloth asked, “How certain are you it’s safe?”

“Adi, that’s what I was thinkin’--stew smells really good, by the way--an’ Aloth, whaddya mean?” Xoti planted her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow at the wizard.

“This is an uninhabited, uncharted island,” Aloth said, fiddling with the pages of his grimoire. “I’m simply concerned that a single, cursory scouting trip is insufficient to deem the entire place safe.”

“He’s got a point.” Adela gave the stew one last stirring to make sure none was sticking to the bottom and swung it away from the firepit. “I want to go enjoy flowers as much as you do, Xo, but we haven’t seen nearly enough of this island to be sure it’s completely safe.”

“We’re gonna be together, ain’t we?” Xoti countered. “We ain’t exactly helpless.” She nudged the hilt of her sickle, setting it rocking against her leg. “Hel, if you’re really worried, I bet Rekke would come with us.”

The redhead started at his name, looking up from the patterns he’d been tracing in the dirt. “I... go with you?”

“Only if you want to,” Adela assured him hastily. “We’re gonna explore after dinner, go see a place Xoti found with lots of plants and flowers.”

“Ta, I will come,” Rekke nodded, brushing his hair back from his face.

“Great! See, we’ll be fine,” Xoti grinned at Aloth. “You an’ Pallegina can hold down the camp, right? ‘Less you’d rather come with us, too.”

“Oh, no.” Aloth shook his head, smile tugging at his lips as he darted a look toward Adela. “I know what she’s like when you give her access to large quantities of flowers.”

And to Xoti’s immense frustration, neither he nor Adela would elaborate the entire time they were eating dinner. Pallegina pled ignorance when the priest tried to ask her. “I wasn’t present for this... incident, whatever it may be.”

Adela finally took pity on her as the two of them, plus Rekke, headed for the glen Xoti had found. “Flower crowns.”

“Huh?” Xoti looked at her, confused by the lack of context.

“On the way to Defiance Bay the first time, back in the Dyrwood. It was spring, and I was excited there were flowers, so I made flower crowns. First one for me, then Kana, then just decided to do one for everyone.” She shrugged.  “They’re fun to make, and we’d set camp early, so I had a lot of time to kill. To Aloth’s credit, he did wear the one I made him for a good hour before it ‘mysteriously’ disappeared. Kana and Sagani, on the other hand, loved theirs so much they were still wearing them when we reached the city the next day, even though they were starting to fall apart.”

“Yeah, I gotta say, Aloth don’t really strike me as the flower crown type,” Xoti commented, leading the way through a patch of trees.

“He’s not,” Adela confirmed. “But we didn’t know each other well yet, and he didn’t want to rock the boat, and I was too caught up having fun to notice he wasn’t terribly thrilled. If I made him one now he’d prob’ly wear it to humor me ‘cause we’re friends. But I won’t do that to him.” She grinned. “Not when I have you two.”

Xoti laughed. “We’ll definitely be more enthusiastic about ‘em, won’t we?” She elbowed Rekke playfully in the ribs.

“Hm? Oh, ta,” he nodded, attention seeming more drawn by their surroundings than the conversation. All the same, he offered a smile. “I would be happy to wear a crown of flowers for you.”

“Are you alright?” Adela checked. “You seem distracted.”

“Oh, y-yes.” Seeing she wasn’t convinced by the stuttered reassurance, Rekke raked one hand through his hair and tried again. “These trees, there are ones like them near Lipasalis, ta? I am just a little homesick.”

She glanced at the trees, short, scrubby things with gnarled and twisted branches and a peeling layer of bark. “That’s what your trees look like?”

“Some of them. Others are tall, and big around. But the ones closest to the city look like this.” He reached out and trailed his fingers along the bark as they passed. It flaked like parchment under his touch.

“Well, c’mon, we can swap stories and distract ya,” Xoti said with a wink, tugging on his arm. “We’re almost there.” And she promptly launched in to what Adela figured was a greatly embellished version of the Dawnstars’ first few days in the Deadfire. Embellished or no, the story had both her and Rekke laughing no more than three minutes in, and filled the rest of their walk to the glen Xoti had found.

Adela could see why her friend had been so excited; it looked like something out of a fairy tale. Edged in scraggly(if slightly taller) trees, the small glen held at least five different kinds of flowers that she could see. One even sprouted from a hanging vine, trailing from tree to tree in a brilliant yellow boundary line.

“Wow,” was all she could say at first, followed a few moments later by, “I sort of want to live here now.”

Xoti giggled. “Knew you’d like it. D’you recognize any of these flowers? “Cause I sure don’t.”

“A couple look almost familiar,” Adela said, locating the patch of pink blooms Xoti had brought back to camp. “Maybe they’re local offshoots?”

Xoti almost reverently trailed her fingers across small orange blossoms, similar to marigolds. The stems were different, and the middle tiers of petals darkened to red, but otherwise they matched the cheerful yellow flowers Adela knew from Ixamitl. “Think they’re safe to pick?”

“Probably,” Adela said slowly. The ones she almost-recognized all looked like harmless plants from either back home or in the Dyrwood. “Only one way to know for sure, though, which you’ve already tested.”

Xoti rolled her eyes at the teasing. “So we know the pink ones are safe. Should we find out about a couple more?”

Adela grinned. “I’m always ready to take a few risks when flowers are involved.” She studied the orange ones Xoti had touched. “Bet these would make a really pretty flower crown.” And there were certainly enough of them to pick a couple dozen without feeling bad. “This color would look good against your hair, Xo.”

Xoti smiled and pushed back her hood. “Aw, thanks, Adi. If you’re gonna do that, I’m makin’ you one, too.”

Adela giggled. “Deal. We should prob’ly find something to talk about that Rekke will like, too.” She flashed him a smile. “So you don’t get bored listening to us.”

He chuckled, idly gathering his hair to tie it back from his face. “I know this was a... risk, ta? I do not mind, it helps me practice my Aedyran.”

“Still...” she curled the tail of her braid around her thumb. “Being left out’s not a fun feeling.”

Rekke nodded. “True.”

“So, Adi,” Xoti began as she walked further into the flowery glen. “I guess it’s safe to assume your favorite part of spring’s the flowers?”

“You got me,” Adela conceded, kneeling to pick the orange marigolds. The sturdier stems must help with drawing more water in the dry months, she guessed. And maybe it got windy here? “Spring’s my favorite, and there’s a lot I like, but the flowers are definitely top of the list. How ‘bout you?”

For all their sturdy stalks, the flowers came up easily, and she’d picked half a dozen before Xoti answered. “Aw, that’s easy,” she laughed. “I grew up on a farm, Adi. Baby animals galore. Whaddya think my favorite part is?”

“Hmm, I’m going to guess planting vegetables?” Adela deadpanned, then laughed when Xoti chucked a pebble at her. “Oh, so it is the baby animals. See, I figured that was too obvious.”

“I’m not a master of skulduggery and secrecy like some people,” Xoti retorted sweetly. “How ‘bout you, Rekke? What do you like best about spring?”

He mulled it over for a minute while Xoti and Adela finished collecting flowers and got themselves comfortably seated to start braiding. “Here I would say the weather. There is rain, but not so much. And it is.... softer? than in winter, when it comes.”

“Mm, that’s a good one. Summer can be bad, too, to hear Tuliak tell it,” Adela commented, biting her lip in concentration as she wove the flower stems together.

Rekke wrinkled his nose and muttered something in Seki she didn’t catch. “Back home, there is a nut, very sweet, that can only be picked the first couple weeks of spring. It tastes very good, by itself or...” he frowned and rubbed his thumbs across his fingers as the word escaped him. “...broken small?”

“Crushed?” Adela supplied, and he nodded.

“Ta. Crushed on food. We cannot buy later in the year, because of the cost, so we only have it in spring in my house.”

“Do ya ever put it on chocolate things?” Xoti asked, looking at Rekke rather than the crown she was braiding.

“Oh yes. It is very good with chocolate,” he grinned.

“What isn’t?” Adela laughed.

Their conversation shifted to food from there, talking about favorite dishes, bemoaning less enjoyed ones. Xoti and Adela finished the crowns they were making each other. The orange and red blossoms looked as pretty against Xoti’s dark hair as Adela had predicted, and the crinkly blue cornflowers she’d chosen were equally complementary to Adela’s blonde waves. Once the two of them had gleefully exchanged their own circlet, they set to work together making Rekke one of small, deep purple flowers. They reminded Adela of yarrow, aside from being  the wrong color.

Rekke was very appreciative, smiling wide as he ducked his head so Xoti could put the crown on him. The three of them sat and talked for another hour or so, enjoying the scenery(and the break from being shipbound), before heading back to camp.

Aloth and Pallegina were both sitting out near the campfire as they approached. The wizard was engrossed in his book, but Pallegina looked up from sharpening her estoc at the sound of their footsteps. She raised an eyebrow at their new accessories, golden eyes flickering with amusement.

“I take it you enjoyed yourselves,” she commented.

“Immensely,” Adela said with a cheerful smile.

Aloth looked up at the sound of her voice and a wry grin pulled at his lips. “I knew it.”

“You do have experience with my foibles and passions,” she laughed as she plunked down next to him and peeked at his book. It was something about Deadfire wildlife, the more mundane varieties. “I was tempted to make you one, but refrained.”

“How shall I ever survive?” he deadpanned, still smirking slightly.

“I can share mine if you like,” Adela offered with a mock innocent smile.

“No, no, I’ll manage.” Aloth reached over and straightened the circlet as it slipped toward her eye. “It’s even cornflowers.”

“Hey, Xoti made it, that actually isn’t my choice.”

“I picked that ‘cause I know you like ‘em,” Xoti chipped in.

“So it was sort of my choice, then,” Adela corrected herself with a laugh. “They are my favorite.” For several reasons. She tugged one of the extras she’d picked from her pocket and tucked it in the tie holding back Aloth’s hair.

He shot her a flat look but left it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said sweetly. She reached for her pack and dug for a book of her own. The light was hanging around longer than before--another great thing about spring--and she wanted to take advantage of that.

The five of them settled in for the evening all absorbed in their own doings, but every so often Adela and Xoti would catch each other adjusting their flower crowns and they’d share a grin.

Yes, there were many things to like about spring.