#rialto market

[furtherfurther]

Day Nineteen, Venice

[maleficea]

chanterelle mushrooms. mercati di rialto, venice. 2023

[loustica]

DATV — Grande Markets

[the-art-archive]

Rialto Market, Venice (1883) by Childe Hassam

[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.]

[alessandro-accebbi]

VENEZIA, Veneto, Italy 🇮🇹 by Björn Jönsson / 500px

This is of the many beautiful bridges in Venice, hidden behind the market, nearby the Rialto Bridge. Also known as the "Little Red Bridge".

[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.

[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-

[gingervitus]

Sample Saturday Sunday

thanks for the tag @thatgaymerguyb. I've been working on 4 consecutive chapters of beneath the stone fruit trees at once that were originally meant to be 2, so here's a little bit of the first

Tiles swirl in ornate patterns beneath her feet. Akin to the patterns of constellations, the patio makes her think of nights spent laying out in the grass as the sea air from the other side of Rialto Bay washed over her. Eyes never left the stars on those nights, transfixed by the sheer volume of the universe. A vastness that surrounds her to this day and what a small fixture she remains in its confines Perhaps, there is another time and point in the universe where she would have found herself happier sooner. Safe and sound and not weighed down by history that had already been documented in ink. What a life she would have led in those daydreams written solely in her mind in the grasses of Rivain, but would it compare to the life she has managed to build despite tragedy around every corner? Doubtful, she decides and perishes the thought of landing anywhere else. However a small innately romantic part of her wishes for souls to be connected by invisible threads that will pull them together no matter how the tale unravels.

A hand rests on her back. Glimmering crystal makes its way into her periferal. “The bartender did not wish to part with this,” Lucanis tells her softly as he places the glass into her grasp. The liquid inside is a pale amber that reflects the dancing lights above her. “A Rivaini malt liquor of some sort.” He presses a kiss to her temple. “I know you prefer liquor to wine.”

It is true. She always has. Wine is an inefficient way to forget your troubled past. Liquor does the trick far quicker and with less headaches to deal with during mornings after. And of course, she is partial to those sourced from Rivain in particular. “Did you have to threaten them with a swift brutal death?” she wonders with a hum against the rim of her glass. “Costs of imported goods have increased in the last few years.” Less bodies to work. Less land to grow. Not to mention all that has happened in the South. Products from other lands in Thedas have indeed steadily climbed in the years since the risen gods fell. “I’m assuming you pay an arm and a leg to your black market pomegranate guy.”

There is a whisper of a grin that crossed his lips then, melting through the steely mask he donned in public settings. Teia poking fun at him worrying about everyone finding out that the Demon of Vyrantium having a big soft heart makes much more sense in a place like this than it had at the Lighthouse. “Beni does no dealings with any sort of black market, amor,” he tuts. “He has mentioned that shipments from Orlais have been limited recently, though.”

Leaning back into his touch, she takes a sip of the bartered-over Rivani malt. The smile that had been lingering on her face quirks as the liquid rolls down her throat. Pungent and metallic. Like a copper sheet that was used to sweep a chimney. Her eye twitches. “Oh, my love,” she coughs, nose pinched in displeasure. “Oh, it’s awful.” A shiver runs down from her neck to her knees. “I fear I’m going to have to consume the entire bottle.” This elicits a real unreserved laugh from Lucanis. His eyes crease at the corners, and heat floods her cheeks.

@thedissonantverses gimme your sample (or don't there's no pressure) but also anyone else who would like to participate do it. Let me sample ur work.

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 26: Orphan

“You see? This is why Rook and Lucanis are perfect for each other,” Illario sneered. “They love to spoil a good time.” “And what do you call putting a hit on your own flesh and blood?” Isabela asked with a grin, “A party?” “In Antiva?” Illario shrugged, “Thursday.” In response to his cousin’s lack of remorse, Lucanis and Spite bristled at the same time. “When you lack the palle to kill them yourself…” Lucanis said in a low voice, his tone teetering between a warning and a threat, “some might call it cowardice.”

Pairing: Lucanis x Rook

Summary: Lucanis not-so-subtly implies Rook is a book snob. Viago sends Illario to assist with a lost supply retrieval in Rivain and Isabela tags along. Zevran Aranai mentioned. Taash experiences unimaginable loss. Rook can't stop vomiting.

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! warnings: violence, innocent death of a well-meaning mother, vomiting, Illario. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

Read on AO3

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Mornings in Treviso had a way of clinging to the colors of dusk, heavy with humidity and cooled by the northeastern breezes arriving from Rialto Bay. Fog rose over the canals like ghostly tendrils of smoke creeping around the gondolas. The vessels rocked above the current, creaking softly in protest.

Rook shivered and pulled her cloak closer as she strolled beside Lucanis towards the Cantori Diamond. His hollow gaze swept appreciatively over the landscape. The horrors of the Ossuary were behind him now, but still haunted his features, the rising sun marking the dark circles under his eyes. How many nights had they spent together, yet how many times had Rook actually seen him sleep?

“What were you writing about all night?” She asked suddenly, tugging at his pocket where the corner of his notebook peeked out.

“I lose time, so I try to keep a schedule, and take note when things vary. Also, Bellara chose an awful novel for book club. I had some thoughts about that.”

“Book club?” Rook pouted. “Why wasn’t I invited?”

“Bellara said you called romance novels low brow fiction."

“Aren’t they?”

Lucanis threw his head back and laughed, the crinkle of his eyes visible in the soft sunlight. He lifted his coat and draped an arm over her shoulders, drawing her in closer as they continued down the sidewalk.

“Romance novels are all Bellara reads.”

“Oh.” Rook’s cheeks flushed bright pink as she melted into the warmth of his side. “I didn’t mean any offense by it.”

“You shouldn’t trouble yourself with it. I think she just wanted to spare you.”

As they reached the market, Lucanis stopped at a fruit vendor’s stall, exchanging a handful of coins for a pair of oranges. Nodding in thanks, he slipped his dagger from his belt and scored the peels before passing one to Rook.

“But I am curious. What kinds of books are worthy of Fiammetta de Riva’s attention?”

“When you say it like that, I sound like a snob.” Rook muttered, digging her nail into the fruit’s skin and removing it in chunks. With a sigh, she discarded the fragments of her orange in a nearby compost pile and popped a slice in her mouth, the bittersweet tang of fruit juice burning her tongue as she considered his question. “I enjoy histories. Anthologies, collections of letters, especially ones not intended for publication. Whatever I could snoop in or smuggle from my father’s study.”

“And your reading habits haven’t changed since childhood?”

“Not particularly. You think Viago keeps steamy romances on the shelves in his apartment?”

Lucanis snorted, finishing his orange and wiping his hands clean with a handkerchief from his pocket. “I see your point.”

“I do partake in the occasional mystery. And Varric wrote a few books…sensational, but interesting. You should give them a chance. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind lending you a copy. He’d even sign it if you asked nicely.”

Lucanis’ brows furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side. Instead of speaking, however, he turned his attention to the casino entrance. Two Crows posted at the doors dipped their chins in greeting as he and Rook walked past. As Lucanis’ posture straightened, she shuddered at the thought of how much authority he now held. Never in her life had she imagined sharing a bed with a man whose influence could rival the King of Antiva’s.

The gambling tables were quiet this early in the morning—Crows conducting serious business, a few late-night gamblers taking inventory of their wins and losses, drunks stumbling to the exits—the usual. Rook slipped into a familiar corridor and climbed the spiral staircase to Viago’s office, not eager to make small talk with anyone who might recognize her.

“And where have you been all night?”

Even as an adult, Viago’s authoritative tone still made her shudder. Rook paused at the stairs, one hand wrapped tightly around the railing. As Lucanis caught up, she felt his chest ever-so-slightly press against her back.

“The Villa.” Rook lied quickly.

Viago gave an undignified sound of incredulity, his eyes narrowing in annoyance as he fully disengaged from his conversation with Heir and turned to face her.

“We checked the Villa.”

In the lounge behind him, Illario and Teia paused mid-argument, their heads snapping in Rook’s direction. Their meeting was now a walk of shame, and she found herself speechless as her cousin folded his arms over his chest, tapping one meticulously shined boot on the marbled floor. Heir excused herself, eyeing Lucanis warily before she disappeared downstairs.

“They looked for you everywhere, Rook.” Illario’s feigned concern barely concealed his wicked smile as he sauntered over, “The villa, Viago’s, the Drowned District…we began to assume the worst...”

Teia slapped Illario’s arm audibly, and he clutched his bicep with a grimace.

“He exaggerates.”

“Enough.” Viago’s green eyes fixed themselves sharply on his cousin’s. “Did you handle your business? You can spare me nonessential details of your evening.”

“The Butcher is dead.” Rook said, staring at the ground. “But he was only the beginning. We underestimated Ivenci’s role in this.”

“The governor has spun lies spanning decades.” Lucanis cut in, squeezing Rook’s shoulder with one hand. “They’re responsible for running lyrium through the city, pitting us against one another, subtly orchestrating Crow executions and making them look like accidents…”

“Oh, Fi…” Teia’s eyes widened, “Your parents?”

Rook nodded. “We’ve been outplayed.”

“Ivenci was more cunning than I thought, but we can still make them pay,” Viago began, “I promise you, Fiammetta-”

“I’m not interested in watching you struggle to give your condolences, cousin.”

He bristled at her words, but had the sense to change the subject.

“Did you learn where the gods will be?”

“Somewhere called Tearstone Island.”

Teia reached for Rook’s hand, squeezing it between her own. “We’ll find Ivenci before you must face them. I’ll have my people start looking.”

“In the meantime…” Viago felt around in his pocket, producing a small letter. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

Rook scoffed. “Great timing, as always.”

Viago worked his jaw as he held her gaze, indicating his patience was near its limit.

“It’s not unrelated to your Ivenci problem. There are supplies in Rivain that were meant to return with some of our Crows. I suspect they were intercepted by the Antaam.” He explained, offering her the letter. “Illario is familiar with the details.”

“You want him to come with us?” Rook’s eyes drifted over his shoulder as Lucanis’ cousin smirked. “No, no. No .”

“I have business. I can’t waste all my time babysitting. Feed him to a dragon, for all I care, but he’s going with you.”

Rook opened her mouth to protest, but Lucanis reached forward and snatched the letter from Viago’s hand before she could speak.

“We’ll handle it.” He growled.

His shoulder slammed into his cousin’s on the way out, so hard that it knocked him back a couple of steps. Rook glared at Viago before shoving past Illario to chase after Lucanis, lamenting what could have been a decent morning as Illario shouted for her to slow down.

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“So, this is where you live? How unsettling.” Illario leaned over the edge of the platform in the eluvian room with a shudder. “And dreary. Not a window in sight.”

“Rook, could you excuse my cousin and I for a moment?” Lucanis asked. “I’d like to show him the view from the kitchen balcony…”

“Both of you cut it out.” Rook snapped as they entered the common room. “Illario, touch nothing and stay close.”

On the couch, Neve straightened at the sight of them, setting aside her book and blinking in disbelief.

“What’s he doing here?”

“He’ll be gone as soon as I get Taash.”

Rook left the two Dellamortes in uneasy silence together and climbed the stairs to Taash’s room, rapping her knuckles on the door twice before it swung it open.

“Oh. Hey.” Taash said, stifling a yawn. “You’re alive.”

“Was there ever any question about that?”

“You looked kind of rough last night. Everything good?”

“Things are…manageable.” Rook shifted her weight from foot to foot, desperate to avoid the subject. “Look, Viago asked me to follow up on some missing Crows and supplies in Rivain. Can you help?”

“Yeah. I can do that. I got word from my mother, anyway. She wants me to stop by.”

Rook lifted an eyebrow. “Have you talked to her since…”

“Nope.” Taash shrugged. “Not since I told her I was nonbinary. But her note says she wants to talk about that old Qunari tablet she found. Of course, that’s what she wants to talk about.”

“Maybe we could stop by and chat with her after?”

“Fine. Let’s grab Isabela on the way. The Lords will want to know what’s happening.”

“I should mention we’ll have some company.” Rook warned. Taash craned their neck to get a better view past the stairwell, where Lucanis and Illario were now occupying opposite sides of the room, pointedly ignoring one another. Neve had apparently evacuated the area altogether.

Rook wished she could do the same.

“Lucanis’ cousin?” Taash snorted. “Give Isabela five minutes and she’ll kick his ass in line.”

Rook scoffed.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. You have yet to witness what Illario can accomplish in five minutes with a beautiful woman.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Lucanis knew he’d regret allowing Illario to join them, but it seemed a necessary sacrifice to cease Rook and Viago’s endless bickering. Making the situation even more unbearable—as was Illario’s speciality—the younger Dellamorte’s dirty fighting only impressed Isabela as he cut through Antaam without breaking a sweat.

His cousin always did like to add a bit of flair to his kills. Lucanis thought of assassination as an art, a painting that required time and a delicate hand. For Illario, it was a dance — dynamic, melodramatic, and open for interpretation.

Show off, Lucanis thought to himself as he pulled his blade from an Antaam warrior and wiped it clean.

As they trekked across the beaches, Illario and Isabela spoke in low tones, hanging back from the rest of the group. Occasionally they would giggle or whisper, and Spite would launch into a new homicidal tirade about Illario’s betrayal.

“You said he would suffer. But he does. Not. Suffer!”

“His ego has,” Lucanis thought back. “I assure you.”

“Not. Enough!”

Lucanis ignored the demon, observing Rook as she crouched to investigate a charred portion of the beach. Everything from that morning now felt like a distant memory, but this wasn’t new for them. Whatever affection she had to spare in the evenings was always spent come sunrise. They might have been lovers behind closed doors, but professionally, she kept him at arm’s length. Was she embarrassed, or just indifferent? Did she view him as a weakness, best kept at a distance to avoid exploitation? It’s what he would have done in her place, if the Ossuary hadn’t changed him. If she hadn’t changed him. Rook had been places no one had before — his bed, his home, his mind — and remained unphased by his fears, his shame. He yearned to have her closer, although it had already caused him to slip not once, but twice. What would it cost him if happened again?

Taash elbowed Lucanis in the ribs, interrupting his thoughts.

“So…you and Rook are a thing?”

“Perhaps…” He replied warily, uncertain this was the distraction he wanted. “Why?”

“You should pop out the wings next time you’re with her-”

”Wings?” Spite’s fury towards Illario simmered, the demon’s interest now piqued by Taash’s suggestion. “Want to-”

“No.” Rook and Lucanis said in unison. She turned around and narrowed her eyes at Taash before standing and brushing sand from her leathers. Sweat was slicked across her forehead and she lifted her hair from her neck to cool herself, closing her eyes and leaning into the breeze coming off the water. When they opened again, her gaze swept over Lucanis and she froze, dropping her hair, as if showing even a shadow of skin in his presence was too much.

“And now you see why we’re so scantily clad around here.” Isabela said as she and Illario caught up. “Those tight leathers suit you, Rook, but you should give Rivaini fashion a chance in the heat.”

Spite rumbled with excitement at the prospect of a lesser-clothed Rook, fixating hungrily on her form.

“Was this morning not enough?” He inquired mentally.

”Never. Enough. Rook!”

Lucanis cleared his throat and turned towards the sea uncomfortably. Even if only audible to him, the spirit of determination’s words felt too loud.

Rook shielded her eyes from the sun and scanned the perimeter for missing supplies. “When I have time to go shopping, I’ll let you know, Isabela.”

“You see? This is why Rook and Lucanis are perfect for each other,” Illario sneered. “They love to spoil a good time.”

“And what do you call putting a hit on your own flesh and blood?” Isabela asked with a grin, “A party?”

“In Antiva?” Illario shrugged, “Thursday.”

In response to his cousin’s lack of remorse, Lucanis and Spite bristled at the same time. “When you lack the palle to kill them yourself…” Lucanis said in a low voice, his tone teetering between a warning and a threat, “some might call it cowardice.”

Illario scowled, but under his contempt, Lucanis swore he saw a hint of shame.

Wishful thinking, perhaps.

“There’s one of the Crows.” Rook said, cutting their bickering short. In the distance, metal bars glinted under the Rivaini sun, a woman caged within.

“Looks like she’s still alive.” Taash said as they drew closer. The woman lifted her head weakly and Lucanis quickly stooped to pick the lock of her enclosure.

“A relief, to find more than just a body for once.” He said, swinging the door open.

“The Antaam spared me so they could use me to keep supplies coming. I didn’t think anyone was coming…”

“The Lords of Fortune wouldn’t abandon you.” Isabella said, unscrewing the lid of her canteen and holding it out in offering. “It’s the least we could do for the Crows.”

The woman took a long drink, nodding gratefully. “I certainly didn’t expect the First Talon.” she said, her weak smile fading as she caught sight of Illario. “Or you.”

“Natale...” Illario mumbled in greeting. Isabela’s face lit up with amusement, observing the exchange with a raised eyebrow.

“You two know each other?” Rook asked, her eyes shining with mischief.

They both ignored her question as Natale pushed herself to her feet, handing Isabela’s canteen back.

“I should get to Treviso with the supplies, give word of what’s happened here.”

Rook shoved Illario forward. “Take him. He knows a shortcut.”

Illario leaned in threateningly close to Rook, and Lucanis rolled his shoulders in an attempt to remain calm as Spite’s anger prickled. He cracked his neck, taking one step closer to Rook’s side.

“I help you kill hordes of Antaam,” Illario hissed, pointing to himself for emphasis. “and you still want to get rid of me?”

“I wouldn’t want to extend you past the duties of your contract. Viago hates when we work for free.” Rook answered with saccharine sweetness, “Besides, you’re bad for morale.”

“You know what? I’ll take my chances.” Natale said, slinging her pack over her shoulder, “Thanks for the rescue.”

Illario’s eyes briefly darted to Lucanis, and he stepped back cautiously. Despite his victory, Illario sulked as he joined Taash in the direction of Shathann’s home. A faint smile tugged at the corners of Lucanis’ mouth. Even if Rook wasn’t successful in sending off his cousin, she’d at least injured Illario’s ego.

“Oh, I know that look,” Isabela said, falling in step beside him.

Lucanis glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “What look?”

“Taash says you and Rook grew up together.” Isabela nodded in their direction. “How did she capture the interest of the Demon of Vyrantium before he became an actual abomination?”

Lucanis shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. And thanks to that idiot , I spent the last year in a Venatori prison.”

“Interesting.” Isabela’s eyes swept over him, assessing. “How does your passenger feel about her?”

Spite growled with delight, and Lucanis clenched his fists at his sides to keep the demon from slipping through.

“Strongly.”

Isabela’s bark of laughter earned them glances from the other three up ahead. Illario and Rook both narrowed their eyes suspiciously, and she dismissed their concern with a wave.

“My turn for questions.” Lucanis said. “I heard a missing Crow relocated to Rivain a few years back. I’m curious if you’ve crossed paths with him.”

“Crossed paths?” Isabela chuckled. “He rejected me twice . Can you believe it? Hopelessly in love. Monogamy can really be the killer of a good time.”

Lucanis grunted. “Any idea where I could find him?”

“Nice try, First Talon. I don’t make a habit of revealing the whereabouts of men who want to disappear.” Isabela replied, “Don’t tell me the Crows are still keeping tabs on Zevran Aranai?”

“Only as a hobby.”

“Hey!” Taash barked over their shoulder. “Keep up!”

Lucanis quickened his pace, grateful for the conversation to come to an end. As they approached Shathann’s open door, he instinctively reached for his sword.

“Something’s off.” He said, wrapping a hand around Rook’s arm. She regarded him with a half puzzled, half offended look as he pulled her to his side and positioned himself ahead of her.

”Smells. Like. Blood.”

“Mother?” Taash called as they stepped inside. “Tama?”

Lucanis glanced to his right and noticed a small crimson puddle on the ground. Taash’s gaze followed, and their eyes widened in response.

“Isabela…” they said, nervous apprehension creeping into their voice.

“It might not be hers-” Rook began.

“You think I don’t know what my mother’s blood smells like?” Taash snapped. “Cutter’s scent is here, too.”

“Cutter? The little fucker that wanted to fight a dragon?” Rook asked. “You think he’s taken your mother?”

Taash gritted their teeth. “I’m certain of it.”

“The tablet.” Isabela said quietly.

Illario squinted. “Can someone fill in the gaps for me?”

Rook ignored him, pressing Isabela further. “Why would he want the tablet?”

“It’s about Taash. About fire-breathers. Shathann was desperate to recover it. I’d bet in exchange for the tablet and Shathann, the Dragon King would turn Cutter into a fire-breather, like you, Taash.”

“That’s vashedan!” Taash shouted.

“You knew the tablet was about fire breathers?” Rook demanded, moving closer to Isabela. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It wasn’t mine to tell. Shathann wanted to tell Taash herself.” she sighed, folding her arms and giving Taash a sympathetic nod. “Look, if the Dragon King is anywhere, it’s that tunnel to the north. Getting inside might be a challenge, but when you go in, the Lords will have all your backs. Cutter betrayed all of us.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Their words echoed off the walls of the mountain and over the lava flowing below. Illario massaged his temples with his thumb and forefinger and winced as Taash spat on Cutter’s corpse.

“We’re not sneaking in after that…” He grumbled.

“Let’s get my mom and this stupid tablet out of this stupid volcano and never talk about it again.”

Ahead, Rook checked the strength of a beam spanning two platforms above the lava pit below, then stepped onto it, extending her arms to steady herself. On the other side, she leapt to a platform, clinging to the side and swinging her legs for leverage. Once on top, she doubled over to catch her breath as the heat and ash filled her lungs.

“You alright?” Lucanis asked, effortlessly catching up with the assistance of Spite’s wings. Perhaps she did want to fly with them.

“Fine.” She panted. “Just worried about Taash’s mom. And trying not to fall in that lava.”

“We could throw Illario in.” Lucanis suggested.

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t be devastated, thorn in your side as he might be.”

“It would be a waste of opportunities for you to humble him.” With a tight-lipped smile, Lucanis crouched beside her and tucked a sweat-soaked strand of hair behind her ear. “I should thank you for earlier.”

Part of Rook wanted to stay there, to lie down and let him carry her out of the tunnels as perpetual nausea from the heat gripped her stomach. Instead, she pulled Lucanis’ hand from her cheek and placed a kiss to the center of his palm before pushing herself up and continuing on after the others.

They scaled a series of ledges as they moved through what appeared to be an old Grey Warden stronghold. Finally, they reached a platform overlooking the Antaam assembled below. Taash’s mother was on her knees before the Dragon King, hands bound behind her back as he raved to his followers.

“Tama.” Taash breathed, scrambling forward.

“Taash, wait!” Rook wheezed, struggling to hoist herself over the platform. Lucanis gave her a boost before Spite’s wings flared behind him, and Isabella and Illario joined soon after, causing the chains holding the platform to shift under their shared weight, emitting a loud creak.

The Dragon King’s head snapped in their direction, and a barred cage suddenly descended from above, trapping all five of them inside. Taash yanked at the bars, desperately searching for escape.

“Evataash. Little Dragon.” He exhaled a long stream of fire into the air and bowed, gesturing at himself proudly.

“I am Ataashok, the Dragon King. Unlike you, I embrace our birthright. You hide from it, Little Dragon. You belonged to the Antaam. You should have been ours. Instead, the priest stole you away.”

“Leave her out of this!” Taash screamed. “You wanted me? You got me.”

“Yes. The one you call Cutter said you would follow our bait.”

“Yeah, well, Cutter’s dead.”

“There! The rage! The passion that burns inside an adaari’s heart.” He pounded a fist against his chest. “Your mother could not quench it entirely.”

Taash scowled. “What. Do. You. Want .”

“I want your fire, Little Dragon. I want your blood. My Antaam have grown strong with the blessings of Ghilan’nain. And with your lifeblood, Ghilan’nain can create an army of adaari for me. Our fire will burn this land pure! What does your mother say, shokra toh ebra? You struggle against yourself, Little Dragon. You do not deserve this.” The Dragon King lifted the tablet. “This contains a message from our ancestors. The full words can be revealed by a dragon’s fire. With this, we will prove we were meant to rule this world!”

“You are wrong, Ataashok.” Shathann interrupted, raising her head defiantly. Her eyes shone with pride as she shifted her gaze, speaking directly to Taash.

“Shokra toh ebra is not an order to struggle against what you are. It is a reminder that through struggle, you find what you are. Evataash has done this, where you have not, Ataashok. They are stronger than you will ever be.”

Rage ignited in the Dragon King’s face, and fear gripped Rook as she realized what was to come next.

“Rook,” Shathann’s eyes found hers with intent. “You will keep them safe.”

Rook knuckles turned white on the cage bars as the Dragon King brought the tablet down upon Shathann, bashing in the back of her skull. She was no stranger to brutal or messy killings, but violence against innocents was always jarring, no matter the circumstance. Rook released her hold on the iron bars as the tunnels began to shake violently, snapping a chain above them and sending the cage toppling into the lava below.

Choking on soot and the memory of her father’s mutilated corpse, Rook fell to all fours and dug her fingertips into the platform as she tried to steady herself. She couldn’t save her friend from her own fate. Another orphan, all so one tyrant could have a taste of power.

Taash let out a deafening, sorrowful wail as their mother’s body hit the stone below, and Lucanis reached for them as he shouted for everyone to move. The increasing heat burned Rook’s skin, and her ears rang with shock. Dazed, she stumbled down the path, the corners of her vision blurring and turning black.

“Illario!” Lucanis’ voice was strained with desperation as he shoved Taash along. Illario nodded hastily in understanding and hauled Rook to her feet, throwing her arm over his shoulders.

“Come on, Fi,” He grunted, guiding her towards the exit, “Can’t quit now. I haven’t even gotten to crash your wedding yet.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

In a rare turn of events, Illario regretted sticking around to spite Fiammetta and Lucanis. Why didn’t he just leave with Natale? She was insufferable, but at least she hadn’t drug him through a collapsing mountain.

The five managed to escape the tunnels unscathed, save Rook, who appeared to be suffering from some sort of heat-induced illness. She doubled over and vomited into the sand the moment Illario passed her off to Lucanis.

“It’s alright, Fiammetta.” His cousin murmured as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “It’s over.”

Illario’s lip curled, and he averted his gaze, taking in his surroundings. Rivain was stunning, after all. Surely, the entire region wasn’t so volatile. And if Isabela was any indicator of the beauty of its inhabitants…

He glanced in her direction where she was speaking with the other Lords, sympathetically glancing over her shoulder at Taash every few moments. Alone by the shore, their recently orphaned companion sat before the waves, hugging their knees to their chest. It was a pitiful sight, and something gnawed at Illario’s chest uncomfortably. Throwing his head back with a groan, strolled through the sand to join them.

“My parents were murdered in front of me when I was a kid.” He said, idly staring out at the sea. “My brother and sister, too. I hid under my bed the whole time, assuming House Velardo’s men would come for me next, but they just…left. I was spared only because I was forgotten.”

Taash’s expression was somewhere between complete bewilderment and contempt as they sniffed and met Illario’s gaze.

“Why are you telling me this?”

”Everyone on this beach is an orphan. You’re grieving, so I won’t tell you it’s going to be okay, but you’re in good company.”

Taash turned over a pair of clipped horns in their hands, presumably cut from their mother before they fled the tunnels.

“Survivor’s guilt is a nasty thing.” Illario continued as he eased himself onto the sand with a grunt. “Sometimes I was jealous I didn’t make the cut. When my grandmother came to see the carnage, she grieved my family for an entire hour before she realized I wasn’t amongst the dead. When she saw I was the one who survived…I supposed she was relieved, but there’s a certain look when people wish you were someone else. I’ve grown accustomed to it.”

“Sounds shitty.” Taash said. “I always felt like my mother paid too much attention to me. And now I just wish I had more time.”

Illario pulled out his knife, toying with it in one hand absentmindedly before he drew a line in the sand with its tip.

“It’s our nature to take people for granted. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Shokra to ebra.” Taash turned their head and spat, “What kind of last words are those for the person you care about? We had this huge fight before she died and now we’ll never get to shout it out…to fix it.”

“Your mother sacrificed herself for you. What is there to fix? It seemed she understood exactly who you are, in the end.”

Taash hummed, dipping their chin.

“Think I can be a Crow, now that I’m an orphan like you guys?”

“So you’ve discovered our first rite of passage. Perhaps we should guard our secrets more closely. To your credit…the Crows have yet to recruit an adaari. But you’re a little tall. You may have to sew your own cape.”

He pushed himself to his feet and knocked loose sand from his boots on a nearby rock.

“Don’t tell anyone I was nice to you. I have a reputation to keep, mm?” He said with a wink. Taash snorted, and hugged their knees closer to their chest, keeping their gaze fixed on the tide as it rolled in, dragging bits of stone and leaves into the sea as bugs and fish struggled against the current.

“What did you say to them?” Rook demanded, lifting her head from her most recent bout of nausea as Illario strode back towards her and Lucanis.

“Something terrible, presumably. You were right. I’m bad for morale.” Illario said, “I’m going back to Treviso. Viago doesn’t pay me for overtime.”

“Cousin.” Lucanis called after him as he walked away. Illario hesitated, glancing over his shoulder.

“Thank you.” 

Illario blinked in surprise, but any hope of a cunning retort was dashed as Rook doubled over again and retched. He frowned, eyes sweeping over her form. 

“You’re certain she’s not pregnant?”

Lucanis scowled at him as he smoothed Rook’s hair back.

“Enough, Illario-”

“I’m serious, Lucanis. I think Fi’s been poisoned.”

[furtherfurther]

Day Twenty One, Venice

[moonlight-waning]

“I don’t think it’s broken.”

Gentle fingers probed at his nose, calloused tips prodding at tissue and cartilage before sweeping across the hot swell underneath his left eye. Her hands were cold, a little bloodless, and they felt good against his pummeled flesh, tickling across bruises and scrapes in a way that sent a shiver down his spine. She made little sounds of disapproval while she inspected him, and that had him smiling through a slight wince of pain.

This. Is. PLEASING.

“I don’t know why you had to fistfight,” she sighed, dropping her hands to her lap to shake her head at him. Blue eyes skimmed over his face until her frustration bubbled up and she huffed, gesturing at his battered complexion, “You let him bust up the moneymaker, Dellamorte.”

That drew a bark of laughter from him, and he leaned in to plant a kiss on her cheek. Her chagrin seemed boundless, but he knew that, deep down, she understood. That she just didn’t want to see him hurt.

“It would have happened eventually,” he told her. “It needed to happen.”

“Men and their stupid pride,” she fussed.

Rook rolled her eyes at the kiss but smiled, twisting around to pick up a bit of damp cloth and a bottle of alcohol, which she was using to dab at the deep gouge bisecting his left brow. She’d set herself up with all the supplies she’d need and plopped herself down on his lap.

It was the perfect distraction.

Lucanis leaned forward just slightly, spinning a fork through a heaping bowl of cacio e pepe and bringing a bite to her lips. “Open,” he commanded, and her lips parted without question, closing around the fork as he withdrew it. “Good girl.”

The dour look she shot him was comical, but he wasn’t laughing a second later when she pressed the cold alcohol-soaked cloth to his face. A hiss of pain slid past his lips along with a soft swear, and Rook smiled, chewing smugly as she reached behind her for a spool of thread and a curved needle.

“I get it, I do,” she told him. “And maybe if it had been anyone else’s face…”

She let the words trail off, and he brought another bite of pasta to her lips, but she shook her head at him, so he redirected the noodles to his own mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she spread a numbing cream on his skin and made to patch him shut. They’d been at this for hours– just like this– and, in truth, Lucanis couldn’t remember a time when he’d been more content. Yes, there was the throbbing and the stinging, but this was the pinnacle of what life could be for a Crow.

Cacio e pepe, and good company.

And… home.

He’d brought her home.

Over. The threshold.

First, however, he’d dragged her through the market for a few essential pantry items before guiding her to the city’s outskirts where he kept his personal residence. The small–by Dellamorte standards– three-story townhouse backed up to a rocky beach on the edge of Rialto Bay. The furniture had been covered in sheets and dust, and they would likely spend the rest of forever picking cobwebs out of obscure corners, but it felt more familiar and welcoming than all the pristine grandeur of the family estate.

It wasn’t long before their privacy was invaded by a small contingent of servants and guards, their evening interrupted by a whirlwind of activity as bedding was changed, furniture was unearthed, fires were set, tapers were lit, and Crows were posted at a distance, just in case. They’d done their best to stay out of the way of the well-meaning servants– likely sent by his grandmother– and had focused on patching the worst of their wounds in one of the quieter rooms until the chaos settled into silence.

Once they’d finally been granted a modicum of peace, he’d made a quick meal while she laid out medical implements like a surgeon, each of them ready to provide their own version of succor to the other. To anyone who hadn’t grown up in Antiva under Crow rule, it might have seemed a strange juxtaposition, but to them, it was oddly… normal.

Comforting, even.

“Open,” he prompted her again, but she shook her head, her brow wrinkled in concentration as she threaded her needle through his skin and tied a perfect knot. Lucanis frowned, pulling back just enough to catch her eye, “Rook, you need to eat.”

“I’m a little busy,” she told him, and leaned forward, ready to make the next stitch. “I’ll eat when I’m done.”

“You’ll eat now,” he told her firmly and touched the fork tines to her lips until she sighed and parted them, grudgingly accepting a bite so that he’d allow her to continue her work.

They carried on like that– one stitch, one bite– until she’d pulled the wound shut at last, tying the final knot and nodding in approval as she reached back to tip the alcohol bottle onto the cloth and press it to his forehead. His eyes watered at the astringent sting, but he was otherwise unperturbed.

“You’ll probably have a small scar,” she told him teasingly. “A dashing little slash through the brow.”

Her face was close to his and her fingers brushed gently over his hypersensitive skin, painting soft strokes across purpled bruises as she surveyed the terrain of his face. She was fully focused on the task at hand which meant that he was free to stare, his gaze skating over her expression, memorizing every detail of every feature from her slender neck to her pointed chin to her heart-shaped lips, pursed as they were in concentration.

The phylactery beat a steady cadence against his chest, and his own heart had settled into a matching rhythm long ago, but he caught his breath as emotion suddenly welled, throbbing beneath his ribs as if it meant to burst free. He might not have recognized the feeling if he hadn’t heard tales of it, legends even, stories that were stamped across every page of every book ever written.

In one way or another.

The heart aches.

It did ache, but it wasn’t a terrible pain, no, it ached with a fullness he’d never felt before.

Not even in his wildest dreams.

[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.