#rialto market

[furtherfurther]

Day Nineteen, Venice

[maleficea]

chanterelle mushrooms. mercati di rialto, venice. 2023

[vigilskeep]

22 for the Rook codex prompts, if you’re up for it?

22. An entry from an encyclopedia/travel guide about an aspect of Rook’s background (Bonus: followed by a note from Rook supporting or refuting its accuracy)

[A note left in the Lighthouse kitchen. It’s slightly stained, as if it was scribbled down during a hasty breakfast.]

Lucanis, didn’t want to wake you. Heading off early for the Wetlands. (Got the food you packed. Have I mentioned you’re a wonder, and I’d die if I had to go without you?) Might be out there a few days. In the meantime, thought you’d get a kick out of this.

“If Antiva City is a jewel, Salle is the nation’s hidden gem. A smaller city nestled in the southernmost tip of Rialto Bay, it offers a bustling market, lively docks filled with flags of every nation, and unparalleled views of unbroken sea from its clifftops. A pleasant stop for the discerning traveller.”

Emmrich heard me say Salle’s de Riva territory and got all excited. Showed me this from one of his travel guides. I may have laughed in his face. Salle! A gem! Pleasant! That crumbling little rat’s nest. We were packed in next to that “bustling market” in our training houses, and the stench of fish and drunken sailors used to turn my stomach worse than the poisons. We’d have made a real Crow out of you down there, Trevisan.

Viago would have a fit. Think I should send it to him?

[The note is signed only with a simple, somewhat childish drawing of the sun.]

[deimcs]

❧ VIDAL 'FOXFACE' DE RIVA / CODEX ENTRY | RUFFLED FEATHERS House De Riva is making waves again. From the staggering number of times some kind of report about them managed to find its way onto my desk, you'd say they were well intent on making their climb all the way up to First Talon. The situation is nothing to be worried about, just somewhat of an unusual sight in Treviso: one of Viago's crows apparently unmasked a ploy to pin the blame of a recent streak of strange sacrifices on a group of qunari merchants in the market plaza and then took it upon himself to get rid of the real culprit, a blood mage from House Ortiz, distant cousin to the King. From what my sources tell me, he didn't ask for permission, and it wasn't even the first time. One of ours spotted him during their last infiltration job at the Rialto ball, apparently busy on a honeypot mission. He ended up stealing our target right under our noses. Bea tells me they call him Foxface because of his hair and insufferable little grin, he's apparently not afraid to use his damned teeth in a fight. Keep an eye out for the little fucker going forward, will you? The last thing this country needs is yet another wild card messing with everyone's business.

[lucaanis]

what if i made a silly little dao-style gift guide/list for lleyth like they were an actual da companion haha. just kidding. unless... 😳

💛 LOVES gifts (Lleyth approves +10)

"Oh wow, this is... for me? Really? Oh! I... I don't even know what to say. It's lovely. I love it. Thank you."

9:44 Rialto Bay Reserve A luxury Antivan mulled wine, highly desired for it's silky texture and unusually high alcohol content. Finely aged with hints of orange peel & cloves.

Raven Feather Hairpin A handcrafted silverite hairpin fashioned in the shape of a feather.

Sea Dragon Emerald Tea A velvet pouch of dried assorted herbs and spices, this Rivaini loose-leaf tea blend is popular for it's unique aromatic taste and stress-relieving qualities. Often sold at market stalls in Llomerryn.

Artisan Journal Set An expertly crafted journal made from aged Antivan leather. Adorned with an intricate embroidered pattern and a gemstone latch. Comes with an engraved crow-feather fountain pen & purple satin bookmark.

💛 LIKES gifts (Lleyth approves +5)

"Interesting. This is for me? How thoughtful of you, thank you. I'll have to find a good place for this..."

It Was An Accident: The Auspicious Art of Botany, Bombs & Botulism An absurdly large book with resources on various alchemy recipes, ingredients, tinkering blueprints, and various "hypothetical" ways to "accidentally" kill people. Banned from the shelves of most respectable retailers.

Thing-On-A-String Well, it's certainly a thing— and on a string, no less. Some might say it resembles some kind of fuzzy worm, but any practical value it may hold is unclear.

Sketchy Charcoal Set A standard set of tools found in the repertoire of many artists. There's something a little shady about this one, though.

Preserved Snake Head The skeletal remains of a an adder snake bearing its fangs, cast in resin to prevent damage to the delicate structure. Kinda creepy.

🖤 PRANK gifts (Lleyth disapproves -5)

"Oh. That's... nice. Thanks, I suppose."

You're Not Alone: A Beginner's Guide to Sobriety A self-help book found on the shelf of a Chantry archive. For when an intervention requires a more subtle approach.

The Fifth Talon in Oil by Lalo Amicci, 9:46 An unsettlingly accurate oil painting of the Fifth Talon of the Antivan Crows. It's judgmental eyes and perpetually annoyed scowl seem to follow the viewer around the room...

💔 HATES gifts (Lleyth disapproves -10)

I... and you're giving me this because...? ...No, nevermind. Forget I said anything. I think it looks better with you, honestly. Keep it. I insist.

Halla Statue A small figurine of a Halla sculpted from Sylvanwood. There are intricate runic patterns carved into it.

Toy Aravel A simplistic miniature aravel made of wood and cloth. A children's toy commonly found among the Dalish.

[queenaeducan-writes]

Day 3: Community

Mi amor,

By the time this letter reaches you, if it reaches you at all, I will be far away.

I tire of shadows, yet I am more weary of danger, or to be more precise, the danger my presence puts others in. My time among the Dalish was short, and were it not for the intervention of another, may have ended with blood. Innocent blood, that is. There was no shortage of Crow blood to be had. Pray my time in Ansburg is peaceful.

The city’s elves have made me feel quite at home. The elder herself has given me shelter under her roof. Each morning I find children at my doorstep, coveting my attention like I am a hero worthy of their aspirations. I do not tell them what I truly am, though I suspect their elders know.

They live humbly here, but I think you would enjoy yourself— the Minanter flows more freely than your beloved Drakon, and we are far enough north that all manner of fruits and vegetables come through the city’s markets. True, I have not the coin to buy them, but what is the harm in relieving a merchant of a peach here and there?

I will beg the Maker for forgiveness later.

I once told you I considered myself lucky for an orphan, and in many ways that still holds true. I often wonder, however, what would have happened if I was trusted not to the brothel, but my people. I do not remember the Alienage in Antiva City, or, indeed, in Rialto. Would they have guarded me so closely there, as they do here? Would I have been safe? Would I have been happy?

Ah, but what use is there in wondering? You know poverty’s sting as well as I, mi amor. I might have been happy, yes, but I am happy now, knowing your warm embrace awaits me in cold Amaranthine.

Con cariño, Zevran

Written for @cityelfweek day 3!

[childe-hassam-paintings]

-Rialto Market, Venice-

[beautifulvenezia]

Day 297: Rialto Fish Market | Daily Venice for you!

[thesummerstorms]

Look, you have to take anything Ivenci says with a grain of salt. They are absolutely someone who tells everything through a lens of a biased agenda.

However!

I really wish there was some other data in the game where we could dig into the implications a bit.

What did happen in the other parts of Antiva that were invaded?

Why did the Fifth, Seventh, and First Talons all see fit to make Treviso the center of their movement when Viago/House de Riva holds lands in Salle and Teia/House Cantori in Rialto?

We see all the Talons (plus a random extra) on stage in Murder of Crows and it's implied there were enough Talons gathered to want Rook de Riva dead even though we know Teia and Viago weren't the ones calling for Rook's head.

Are they all stationed in Treviso as well? In the outskirts or nearby lesser cities? Surely having all the leadership of all the Crows in one City all the time would be a bad idea... unless their forces have been weakened enough they have to band that closely together for strength.

Or despite the Antaam invasion, are they still able to travel mostly freely within Antiva itself as long as no one tries to flee?

You get dialogue in the Drowned District from a sailor who states that the Antaam are refusing to let ships leave the harbor. Lucanis says the following after Arlathan Crater:

The Crows may have something. The Antaam are moving large quantities of supplies out of the city. Weapons, armor, gaatlok… And food. About half our remaining provisions. Enough to feed the Antaam navy.

So the Antaam invasion has somewhat impacted food distribution, which makes sense if the port is closed... but not enough for the markets to shut down or stop selling valuables, or to close Cafe Pietra and its fancy coffee, or to stop that old lady in the market from complaining about there not being enough white sauce.

So is it just that food is more difficult to bring in because with the port closed they have to bring in foodstuffs overland when they traditionally aren't used to? Does the city or do the Crows regularly stockpile for winters or emergencies and that's what's being removed?

Like, I really just want to dig in to the logistics/politics situation here, even though I know that's a bit beyond the game's scope.

Edit: I just double checked and Josephine's letter to a romanced Inquisitor carefully says nothing about the state of Antiva beyond her family stating the weather is good and her sister wanting them to return to Antiva to meet a baby. So there's that as well.

[mythalsknickers]

Happy Friday! “Whiskey? In hot chocolate? Really?” “You want it or not?" made me laugh thinking about Lucanis.

Title: Snow and Cioccolata Calda Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte x Teigue de Riva Rating: T Word Count: 783 Author Note: Thank you so much for this prompt I had fun writing it. I laughed so hard. This is Pre-Veilguard but tagged as Veilguard due to the natures of the characters. Teigue de Riva uses He/They and Him/Them pronouns interchangeably as he is nonbinary trans masculine. @dadrunkwriting - veilguard

His cloak was covered in snow, mist was rolling in from the Rialto. In a few hours the snow decorated cobbles would be covered in a sheet of ice. His head pounded as he ducked into the covered market, the party the eve before had been his celebration. Despite the trials he had become a fully fledged crow though admittedly he remembered very little of the celebration, however Viago's lecture this morning he would have preferred to forget that.

He had a plan to order a spiced wine to at least take the edge off. Brushing past stalls and buskers, occasionally he would leave coin for them. he was not aware of the eyes on him but he did stop and admire a few daggers. Maybe after his next contract he would be able to stop and place an order. He ambled until he made his way to the cafe opening the door and pausing his cheeks drawing warm. Mierda. Dark hair, a laugh like honey and hair pulled back into a neat short trim, slicked back with just a tiny bit of oil, a hint of a five o'clock shadow and leathers that hugged his body. Lucanis Dellamorte, the current perfect heir of the First Talon. A small squeak left his lips unbidden as he entered.

He had spent the night before networking with other Talons per Teia's request, and their heirs. This was fine, Viago had not mentioned Lucanis was back in town. The last time he had seen the older crow was the disaster of he and his fellow fledglings getting drunk on Carnal. His cheeks warmed again as he made his way to the counter, his eyes flicking as he felt the weight of a gaze on him. Just get the wine, and get out. Avoid talking to the man that he admired and imagined scenes from his romance novels with.

"ciao, could I get a--" He paused catching a movement like the swish of a cloak out of the corner of his eye "Teigue, I was just wondering if Ilario and I would have to go break you out of Viago's mercies!" A hand went down next to his and he felt the warmth of the words against his ear. Glancing to his left he was effectively pinned to the counter and Ilario was not in sight, had he left? "Lucanis, I did not know you were home!" he managed to get out, looking at the way he was pinned to the counter, he could pivot, Lucanis could not be that close. Shifting his weight he spun under the older crow coming face to face with him and it was all he could do to suppress the squeak, oh they were closer then he had though. Mierda... "I-Uh-um just came to--" his brain froze when a smirk made it's way to Lucanis' lips, smug bastard...well he was not a bastard. "Come to celebrate Viago finally letting you fly off from the nest?" Swallowing the lump forming in his throat he nodded.

"Come and sit with me, I have the perfect drink to chase the headache from last night away." Oh Creatore...they knew about last night, he did not even remember a third of the night. Still he let Lucanis take his hand and lead him back to a table, could he say no and it not be an insult? He was not terribly certain and he was sure Viago was going to kill him either way. He sat down at a table towards the middle of the cafe and Lucanis had disappeared. He was too hung over to be stuck at a table, in the snow with the man he had imagined page 69 of Resourceful Lovers with, Creatore...he was going to die.

As Teigue tried to figure out the best way to extract himself from the situation, it was then Lucanis came back with two steaming cups and a large bottle of was that...Rare Brandy. "Is that Brandy going in the Cioccolata calda, really?" He managed to ask seeing the sweet warm chocolate. "Do you want it or not?" He glanced up at the older crow watching him pour a healthy amount into his own cup. "Alright, Alright." he held up a hand to take the brandy. He just needed to chase his hang over away, and then hopefully not say anything terribly unbecoming in front of Lucanis.

[oopsallmabari]

oooh sending you a bunch.. 1 for pia, 15 for arya, 5 for levi, 4 for veria :)

thank u jay <33333. i'll add pia's for now and update with the rest tomorrow :3

A conversation overheard in the chambers of the previous Talon of House de Riva, during a discussion of the advancement of several fledgling Crows to full assassin status.

“She’s grown quite competent at covert operations.” “That is more of a requirement of the position than it is a bonus, yes?” “True, but she’s still a fledgling. And she’s largely self taught—House de Riva has not had the fortune of training many mages in recent years. House Valisti maintains their claim to most of the Crows’ mages.” “They’ve been deliberate in putting roots in Antiva City. Proximity to the Circle of Magi has its advantages.” “According to her handler, they picked her up in the alienage in Rialto long before any of her abilities manifested. No indication of magic in her family history. We simply got lucky.” “Lucky indeed. Tell me, what magical skills has she demonstrated?” “Several of note. She’s learned to imbue the elements into her blades, of course, but we’ve encouraged her to extend her magic beyond her person to create distractions. She is able to cloak herself in the Fade in order to dip into the shadows. As a test of her control, we had her manifest a freak storm over the Grande Markets while another Crow completed a contract on a broker. The rest of the merchants were too busy protecting their own wares to notice the man had disappeared.” “Interesting. But I have no use for a Crow who cannot fulfill a contract on their own, no matter how much of a tempest they can create.” “That won’t be a concern, Señor. We’ve made all efforts to ensure her focus is unyielding.” “Have you now?” “Of course. Do you think we would allow a mage to progress this far in training if we were not certain she could handle the work while under duress? It would sully our good name to botch a contract because an abomination lost control.” “Good. I’ve worked too hard to keep this house’s good standing for a failure to set us back now.” “If you still doubt, let me bring her to you. For a demonstration. Her resolve is no fluke.” “I should hope she has the scars to prove it.”

[furtherfurther]

Day Twenty One, Venice

[rookedcrow]

beckon, sender beckons receiver closer with a finger.

hearing her name over the various conversations and music amongst the brightly colored stalls of the grande market wasn’t all that out of the ordinary — after all, it was one of her favorite places in the city to spend time when she wasn’t training or going about her other duties. her face was recognizable to a fair few merchants; especially since taking on the responsibility of running some of via.go’s errands for him in the market ---- a gesture that not only left him free to go about attending to other duties for house de riva, but gave her an excuse to get out and meander her way through the market while the gold she carried in her pocket tried not to burn a hole it in.

it helped, of course, that she had a mental list to go off of : new vials and cork for viago, and a check - in with the leatherman on his behalf about a new pair of gloves, a check - in with the fishmonger … and the rest of her time in the market would be her own to spend. ( she managed to resist finally giving in and buying the dual - bladed knife she’d been eyeing for the last few weeks, but the stall with all the sweets from rialto made a very compelling argument based purely on aroma alone. their hazelnut truffles ultimately proving to be a little too much for her to resist. )

so hearing 'emilia' once may just be a coincidence --- it isn’t all that uncommon a name ... but it comes again the closer she gets to one of the market’s corners, louder ( despite it still being quiet in comparison to the rest of the noise around her ) and in a tone she recognizes almost immediately ----- lucani.s dell.amorte. he’s half in light, half shadow ( fitting for a fellow crow; no one walks that line better than they do ), but even the soft glow of lanterns can’t hide the pleased expression on his face once she finally meets his eye. the gesture that follows is borderline cheeky; the curl of a finger that precedes her name one more time. well, if he insists.

she pops the second bite of the truffle in her mouth before wandering off the stall - lined path and sliding herself into the shadows along with him.

“hello, lucani.s,” she reaches out and catches him around the wrist with a coo, looking to keep the hand that had coaxed her over for herself. ( though catch is probably not the best way to put it; catch makes it sound as if he didn’t want her returning the favor and snaring him now that she was close enough. ) the grin that follows is made of mischief far more than it is a proper greeting; as is the way she makes a point to almost bring the back of his hand up to her lips for a kiss. “do you always hide in dark corners of the market, or were you waiting for me?”

@spitecrow / ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER.

[covertleathers]

Rating: 18+, Explicit, Gradually intensifying sexual tension, nudity, wet dreams (that was unexpected), etc etc

Relationships: Lucanis Dellamorte/m!Rook (They/Them pronouns)

Chapter summary: Post Weisshaupt, after their disagreement, Lucanis has effectively been benched by Rook (they've insisted he needs to rest). He doesn't do well sitting idly. So, he decides to start a cooking project that's unceremoniously crashed by Rook, Davrin, and Neve.

Author's Note: This feels like my strongest (and longest) chapter yet. I really thought nothing was going to top the first (that I wrote in a fever dream at 2am). But this feels like I've got the characterizations I want down. I feel like I've also finally reached a point where I can start teasing out more and more tension.

Chapter 7: Wine Stained Cards

Lucanis knew how to stay busy. Mornings were spent maintaining his weaponry. Laid out across his bed were ten blades of varying size and shape. The boot knife, a steely blue damascus eight inch blade with a garnet-adorned pommel, was the first he usually started with. As he brought the blade across the whetstone, the muscle memory of the ritual would take over. The slender dagger next, simple but deadly. He appreciated its simplicity and function. From there, Rialto, Crowkeeper, the poignard, and his favorite: God’s Foil. He smirked to himself at the last one.

While Rook was traveling with Davrin and Emmrich, he and Harding would meet and discuss the Inquisition. Of course there were aspects of the religious movement that he was well aware of, particularly their move to make a spymaster the Divine, but it was interesting to learn more of the experience from a personal point of view. Harding was too humble, clearly she had known the Inquisitor more than she initially let on. Especially if she had gotten close enough to Varric Tethras to work with him. Lucanis resisted several times to ask more about the famous author. That subject clearly brought his colleague a great deal of pain.

In the weeks after Weisshaupt, his restless mind resisted what felt like an unspoken forced respite from Rook. They had told him to “do whatever” he needed to refocus, but denied him what would have put the stabby urges to ease: killing targets. No Antaam or Venatori were going to show up here in the Fade for him to put down.

At the same time, the young mage had made their appearance in the kitchen every night they were sleeping at the Lighthouse. They did eventually return to the tale of the Verdant Wyvern. Rook read the story in its entirety as Lucanis prepped salted and brined fish for their next dinner. It was pleasant.

As he stayed at the Lighthouse, his ideas and desires for more elaborate and difficult meals to cook increased. First it had started with difficult pastries requiring elaborate and precise temperature control. Then, pickling became more interesting as he learned about pickled cabbage from Bellara. She said she had picked it up in her travels and wasn’t sure of the origin, but it was delicious enough to keep making it again and again.

On this particular night however, he was taking on another challenge. Those from outside of Antiva did not appreciate the difference between fresh or home made pasta. A bronze die at this particular moment was hard to come by at the Treviso markets. Lucanis suspected the Butcher had to have been collecting as much workable metals from the city as he could. Clearly this had changed the quality of the pasta that he had been able to acquire without tapping into some contacts. The previous night had been the last straw when the dried pasta had been the blandest he ever had the displeasure of tasting. Of course Neve, Harding, and Bellara didn’t notice. He had his own remedy of using a particularly good red wine with enough body to enhance the flavor.

He had time. He had hands itching to work. Determined, he visited a bakery and kindly asked for ten pounds of wild red and gold wheat. Not an odd request, he thought, but apparently a rare one. In a prosperous merchant city scarcely did anyone mill their own flour. A hand grinder and sifter he expertly haggled for from a local chef who frequently cooked for the revelers at the Cantori Diamond.

As soon as his companions had left him to his devices at the end of the night, he began the process. Lucanis opened the canvas bag of wheat, letting the earthy smell fill the air. The faint scent of petrichor emanating from it led him to believe it recently rained in the city. There was always a lingering scent of stone and earth in Treviso after a storm rolled through.

Faint memories floated at the bottom of the well of his mind. It was not the city he used to know. It had been transformed as he was. He ran his fingers through the grain and relished the sensation. Five pounds should do.

It seemed like getting it started was the hardest. A mixing bowl beneath to catch the flour as it fell away. Once the momentum carried his wrist, the grains melted away easily. Milling away endlessly. The handle of the grinder tested his forearm. It was as soothing as running a whetstone against a blade.

Lucanis took moments to pause and sift to refine the flour before he continued the labor. It fell cleanly into a soft, yellow-white mountain at the center of the mixing bowl. He wasn’t sure how much time passed as he did this. If he paid too close attention, the pain in his forearm would become too loud.

Approaching footsteps snapped him out of his trance. Heavy. Self assured. Direct. Davrin. Back from the Necropolis, it seemed. And late at that. But, that also meant—ROOK.

“Not today, Spite,” He muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. It took a lot of mental fortitude to keep the demon quiet.

Sure enough, Davrin pushed open the kitchen doors, bare of his armor with a ragged look on his face. Lucanis smirked. The Necropolis had that effect on people. In tow, in great contrast was a grinning Rook, who seemed to be teeming with renewed vitality. His brow furrowed slightly, Rook’s steps were always so soft they were barely perceptible. 

“Ah, see, I told you he’d be here,” Rook chirped excitedly as they floated to the dining table where Lucanis had set up shop. They leaned on the table across from him, peering into the bowl full of flour. “Always doing late night treat making.”

Davrin joined Rook at their side, elbow resting on their shoulder as he also looked over Lucanis’ handiwork. They were so comfortable with each other. “That just looks like flour. Rook promised you’d be cooking something, Lucanis,” he sighed. “I was hoping for a late night meal.”

Lucanis averted his eyes and drew his attention to the giant bag of wheat next to him. “I was milling flour for our next batch of pasta, you’re in luck,” he replied. “It could take some time, but if Rook is staying, I can make it fresh.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Rook hummed eagerly. That sharp smile ate at him.

His throat nearly shut. Lucanis rolled his neck, tied the canvas bag neatly before picking it up.He swallowed invisibly before he spoke, “I’ll be right back.”

When he returned from the pantry, he began the process. Rook had poured a glass of red wine for all three as he cracked eggs into a delicately made well of fresh flour at the counter. Clearly they knew where Lucanis was keeping the good bottles. They and Davrin had found a purple wax Sangioveze that he had just picked up the week before. He rolled his first sip along his tongue, relishing the taste. He knew exactly what to make that would pair well with this.

“You wouldn’t believe how many hauntings we got through today,” Rook said before taking a long drink. “Poor Davrin, how do you feel after that?”

The Warden chuckled, “Like I never have to step foot into that place ever again. I’ve seen enough weird shit for a lifetime. Would rather be trapped in a room full of darkspawn. At least I know what I’m up against.”

An egg for each person, seasoned with salt and olive oil. He whisked them while incorporating the flour. Slowly. This was a process he enjoyed. His hands, properly coated so it wouldn’t stick, kneaded the yellowish dough.

“So, apparently, it was dead Mourn Watch mage?”

“Eh, that happens. He’s actually a regular. Every few years he makes some noise. I think he likes the attention,” the young mage replied, swirling their glass. “The first time, I actually tried to talk him down. Ha, that went about as well as you’d think.”

Davrin laughed, “You’re soft, Rook.”

“Not anymore,” they shot back with a toothy grin. “I’m a pretty skillful mage. Killed plenty of Venatori by now.”

As the dough became a loose lump, Lucanis leaned his weight in on it. The heel of his palm pushed and his other hand pulled it back. His knuckles bore down on it, then the palm once more. Again, back and forth. A wonderful, familiar motion.

“One pleading look from Assan and you’re giving him whatever he wants,” Davrin countered, “Between you and Neve, I’m losing my authority. He’s going to start demanding gingerwort truffles every day.”

Rook smiled wide.“What’s wrong with that?”

“You’re making him darkspawn dinner,” he scolded. The two threw their heads back and bellowed with laughter. Davrin knew how to make Rook do that.

Lucanis rolled the dough flat with a rolling pin. One of many items he brought to the Lighthouse with excited fervor. He adjusted his shoulders as he worked, shaking off whatever feeling was coming up.

“Next thing you know, they’re showing up with forks and bibs,” Ziya wheezed in between breaths.

Davrin threw back the rest of his wine with a satisfied sigh, “Not if I have any to do with it!”

The Warden poured his next glass. As if tracked on a string, Rook’s gaze turned in curiosity at Lucanis. He really wasn’t used to this kind of attention.

“Our Master Assassin,” they exclaimed as they moved to lean on the wall next to the counter where he was working. Their bright eyes flashed impishly at him. An easy smile spread across their visage. That wine worked quickly. “What’s prompted you to do all this?”

“You know why. It helps me focus,” Lucanis countered, looking at them sideways. “Recently, I haven’t been able to kill as many Venatori as I would like to.”

Now the dough was flat and smooth like skin. Lucanis laid flour over it before running a knife through it to create long, thin strips. It split apart cleanly.

The young mage sighed, clearly feeling a sting. Lucanis knew what words were about to leave their lips. “I was hoping you would re—”

More steps approaching the kitchen door. This time, accompanied with a metallic thunk with every other footfall. Neve, stack of papers tucked under her arm and a mug of coffee in hand. “Room for one more?”

Mierda.

“Welcome back, you two,” she said as she placed her things on the table on Davrin’s other side. “Are we bothering Lucanis tonight? Miffed I didn’t get an invitation.”

As soon as she sat down Davrin was already pouring a glass for her. His wrist was a little loose with the portion, Lucanis noticed. However, Neve didn’t seem to mind. She was watching this scene with a glint of curiosity and amusement in her eyes.

“I could hear you all from my room,” she explained as she looked at them all teasingly. “Was curious about what was so funny.”

“Our Master of Knives has been kind enough to feed two beggars who can’t boil water,” Davrin explained as he clapped Rook on the back and steered them back to the kitchen table.

“The water boils itself,” Lucanis sighed. The two elves laughed again.

“We’re unworthy!” Ziya cried blithely as they bowed in Lucanis’ direction, Davrin’s heavy hand nearly tilted them backwards. The Warden planted them firmly at their usual seat. “Kindly taking pity on unfortunates as ourselves.”

Neve chuckled as she leaned back in her chair totally entertained by their buffoonery. “Count me in. What’s on the midnight menu?”

Lucanis smiled despite himself. “Cacio e pepe. Usually pairs well with a light red,” he said as he turned to check the boiling pot on the wrought iron stove. Somehow, the Lighthouse always knew when he needed to get the job done.

Davrin and Rook looked at their glasses, then each other, then at the bottle they had eagerly popped open without a care to its taste. They were inconsolable, those two, fits of snickering between them. Chasing hauntings for two days could do that to someone, he considered silently as he watched them from his peripheral.

“Nice catch,” Rook laughed gingerly as they wiped tears from their eyes. “Emmrich would kill me for not knowing the differences between wines.”

“I could teach you,” Lucanis shrugged, “It’s important to taste their distinctions. So you know when your cup is poisoned.”

 They hummed as their elbows propped themself up on the table. Wine glass caught dangling over the edge between their middle finger and thumb. “I'd love a private lesson.”

Those words snaked up Lucanis’ spine so quickly, he was barely able to brace himself from cutting a finger and bleeding all over the pasta. Mierda, he walked right into that one. 

“I am…" Rook suddenly snapped to attention, apparently they surprised themself. Face tinging with red, turning nearly maroon. They cleared their throat, "...well, that would be agreeable.”

Rumbling chuckles from Davrin. Neve smirked crookedly into her own glass. The young mage seemed mildly panicked, but quickly recovered by pulling a deck of cards from their back pocket.

“Who’s up for a game of Wicked Grace?”

The other three collectively groaned. Lucanis knew better than to do that again. When he had first arrived at the Lighthouse, Rook had casually invited him, Neve, and Bellara to cards. Harding had excused herself with an incredulous look and that was his first hint. They had all had their fair share of wine by that point. When they finally got to playing, Lucanis knew the flick of a cheater’s hand when he saw one. Playing cards with Illario most of his life did that. He had grabbed Rook’s wrist without thinking, feeling the card cleverly hidden underneath. They beamed at him, unafraid of an assassin’s touch and grinning like a fool.

“C’mon, we’ve got enough people. Four’s a party.”

“No one wants to play with a cheat, Rook” Davrin said. “You’d have to prove you aren’t hiding any cards in your sleeve.” While they didn’t get a chance to rope Davrin into a game when he first arrived (due to the dragon attacks), Rook hadn’t forgotten their bizarre ritual.

 They had their own personal deck, a hodgepodge of Tevinter and Nevarran cards. Imperium and mortalitasi iconography decorated different cards of different suits. It was hard to know what your hand was at first glance. Clearly, the deck was very old and torn from use. When the team found the downtime, however, Rook tried again. It seemed like that was the straw that broke the horse’s back. Harding took the deck, went up the kitchen stairs, and chucked the cards out into the fade. That got a great laugh out of Rook. The team thought that was the end of it.

Then somehow, days later, the deck mysteriously returned to Rook’s possession. They said it reappeared at their bedside table. Neve blamed the wisps. Bellara and Emmrich hypothesized that the Lighthouse created another, identical deck. Bellara was furiously writing down notes as soon as she learned what had happened. Lucanis would never forget that errant, sharp smile on their face as they strode into the kitchen that morning. The Lighthouse wanted them to suffer, he had mused at the time.

“And I will know if you do,” Lucanis added. He checked the pasta, steaming now in the roiling water. Grating the hard cheese was next. It had to be fine enough to incorporate in the skillet with the rest of the pasta water.

Neve finished her glass and was reaching for the wine bottle when she scoffed, "If only you were better at it."

"We're running out of drink. What I would kill to have some ale," Davrin said. "Rook, why don't you grab us another bottle?"

Lucanis silently laughed to himself; any excuse to get them not to play cards. Clever Warden.

"Fine, but don't  complain if I pick a bad one, I just said I know nothing about wine," they called as they stood and made their way to the pantry.

"There aren't any bad ones," the assassin retorted, somewhat defensively.

“Lucanis, you better help them or they’ll pick a dessert wine,” Neve said, swirling her glass. She seemed to have given up on whatever reports she had been reading.

That got his attention. Not the port. Quickly, he took the boiling pasta off the iron stove and onto the counter. He didn’t want them to overcook. Wiping his hand on a dish towel and throwing it over his shoulder, Lucanis bee-lined to follow Rook into the pantry.

There they were, peering at the wine shelf where he had accumulated about two dozen bottles of wine, all different origins and organized according to their proper pairing. Enough for a couple weeks of meals. Neve was right. Rook was staring intently at a fat green bottle of port wine Lucanis was saving for his next dessert project. Delicate, gold-ringed fingers wrapped around the glass bottleneck with eagerness.

“Rook,” he said, grasping their hand with his. “Not that one.” 

The drink had made their skin warm. Lucanis stilled, realizing his grip on them. The shape of their rings became almost unbearably apparent against his skin. A painfully long pause drifted between them.

“Oh?” They purred, “Time for my first lesson already?”

Rook made a sideways glance at him and grinned. Lavender eyes alight. Mierda. They released their fingers and he did the same. His palm felt like it was burning.

It was Lucanis’ turn to feel heat rising to his face. He groaned. His mouth was fighting a losing battle to a smirk, “No.”

Cackles echoed in his mind. The image of Spite’s grin flashed behind his eyes. At least someone was enjoying this.

 He reached for another Sangioveze, just behind Rook. Lucanis became all too aware of the small of the tall elf’s back. Now everything felt too hot. Too close.

They returned to the dining room, Neve and Davrin thoughtfully pretended they weren’t trying to eavesdrop. Rook’s shamelessness made them seem unaware of the attention entirely. However, Lucanis caught that self satisfied smirk of theirs. As they sat next to Davrin again, the Warden patted their shoulder gently. Lucanis’ heart twinged, but his face remained placid.

Dinner went on without much happening after that. The cacio e pepe came out just delicious, maybe a tad too little black pepper. Lucanis’ colleagues seemed to enjoy it well enough. Davrin asked for seconds twice.

The two elves ended up sharing more stories from their harrowing adventures in the Necropolis. Rook was a little more enthusiastic about the howling, anguished spirits than their Warden friend. While Davrin paled at recounting a gutted, floating corpse with eight arms and the head of a bird, Rook brightened with fascination, detailing all the possibilities of its name and origins. Their comfort with spirits highlighted again.

They finished after the third bottle, at which point Rook and Davrin were very drunk. Lucanis did his best to ignore Spite doing his best to be an awful distraction, appearing at the corner of his vision with a taunting face or biting remark. For a good while he stood uncomfortably next to Rook’s chair. There were moments Lucanis suspected the mage felt the demon’s presence: a cocked-eyebrow between jokes. If they truly did, they paid him very little mind.

From time to time, Rook would get that soft look in their eyes as they spoke to him. Gentle gaze above that cutting smile. At this point he knew it well. It searched him. At times, he felt near naked under that look. When he met them in equal measure, he felt his core seize. Habit of training kept his face tranquil, but something deep stirred. He remembered; he had touched them. Again.

Neve, knowing when it was her time to bow out after two glasses, had left long before the rest called it a night. Lucanis, warmed from the wine, but still quite alert, had taken care of all the dishes as his companions milled about. He was already brewing a new pot of coffee, a supple dark roast. Surely is was nearing four in the morning.

Rook flopped onto the red couch at the far side of the kitchen, kicking off their boots with a sigh, “Don’t fall into the fade."

“Lucanis letting you sleep here?” the Warden asked as he sat on the arm. There was a slight slurring to his voice.

“I just don’t want the possibility of a...” Rook hiccuped, “...visit from the Dread Wolf while I’m sloshed. Hope that’s agreeable, Sir Crow?”

Lucanis sighed from his place at the counter, coffee cup in hand, “It’s fine.”

Davrin cast Lucanis a look that he had a difficult time understanding. That could have also been the wine making his face behave strangely. But something in it was a combination of suspicion and sympathy. Then, the Warden stumbled through the kitchen doors with a short nod, his steps echoing through the Lighthouse courtyard until they didn’t.

Rook was sleeping. Here. For a moment, he was rooted at the spot, staring at their curled form on the couch, turned away from him. Angular shoulders, long arms. The glint of gold adorned almost every limb. Cascading plum hair obscuring their face. The soft hum of their breath filled the room now that it was silent. His eyes memorized the rise and fall of their side. Silently, the assassin crossed to sit in one of the armchairs. He turned his cup in his hands, remarkably unsure of what to do next. So, he listened.

[curiositydidnotkillthecat2]

Something about Venetian ghetto

The first ghetto in Italy was established in Venice on March 29, 1516. The Republic of Venice ordered the Jewish residents to move to an area where an old, disused foundry once stood. This area was called the "ghetto," a term derived from “geto de rame” (copper casting), referring to the practice of dumping copper waste in that deserted spot.

In the centuries leading up to the ghetto's creation, Jews primarily lived in towns on the Venetian mainland, with only a few families residing permanently in Venice. Mainland Jews, excluded from guilds and barred from owning property, were forced to earn a living through pawn lending or trading used goods. They were allowed to stay in Venice for no more than fifteen consecutive days, during which they conducted business at the Rialto market before returning to Mestre. Some Jews were also permitted to practice medicine.

However, after Venice's defeat at the Battle of Agnadello (1509), during a time of social and economic difficulty, the Venetian government allowed Jews to settle in the historic center in exchange for an annual contribution of 6,500 ducats. Many Jewish families moved into homes near Rialto, causing significant protests, particularly from certain preaching friars. In 1515, the Venetian Senate proposed allowing Jews to remain in the city due to their economic contributions but decided to isolate them in specific areas.

Thus, in 1516, the Venetian government decreed the segregation of Jews into a special district, creating the first ghetto in history. Jews were required to wear a yellow cap, except for certain doctors and bankers. The ghetto was surrounded by high walls, with gates that were locked every evening and reopened at dawn. Guards, paid by the Jewish community, patrolled the area day and night, including the surrounding canals.

[lantur]

I don’t even know how I can describe the week I spent in Washington state with @thatisadamnfinecupofcoffee and @annespelledwithane. Here are the memories that will stay with me:

Pike Place Market, the perfect introduction to Seattle, on a rainy Sunday evening, eating Beecher’s mac and cheese and enormous cookies while standing huddled under a storefront. A huge dinner that night at Din Tai Fung, one of my favorite restaurants.

Marveling at the glass art at Chihuly Garden and Glass, and watching a live glassblowing demonstration. Taking an underground tour of Seattle on a rainy afternoon, and learning a lot about the city, and warming up with a hot pot dinner after a day of being in the cold and rain.

Savory pastry breakfasts in the warm golden light of a bakery while it was gray and drizzling outside. Road tripping from Seattle to Port Angeles and entering Olympic National Park to do our first hike at Marymere Falls, and getting to sit on and walk along the shores of the enormous, beautiful Lake Crescent, eating bread and cheese.

Driving deep into the forest the next morning to hike at Sol Duc Falls, and then even further into the Hoh Rainforest, marveling at the Hall of Mosses. Walking along the Pacific Coast at Rialto Beach under the golden evening sunlight, when the sun finally came out from under the clouds. Sitting on the driftwood at the beach to eat farmer’s market persimmons and more bread and cheese.

We found the cutest diner in Port Angeles on our way back to Seattle, and loved the final drive past Lake Crescent while listening to TSwift. We explored the Main Street of Bainbridge Island and ate locally made chocolate truffles, and went to the Museum of Pop Culture. We went to Snoqualmie Falls, of Twin Peaks fame. On our final day of our trip, we hiked Rattlesnake Ledge, climbing a whole mountain. We saw so many sides of Washington State in our short time there, from the forests and rainforests to the mountain, the ocean, and the streets and underground of Seattle.

I loved our takeout dinners of pizza and Thai food and Chinese food eaten in our hotel rooms, the episodes of the X Files we watched, the music we listened to, the discussions we had. It was amazing and beautiful. I love the Pacific Northwest, and it’s been my dream to visit Olympic National Park for years now. I’m so glad I got to have this experience with my friends.

Waiting at the airport for my flight home now ♥️