#this is also how it should look in the ossuary | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cannibalisticskittles · 3 months ago

Text

wingmanning - pt. 1

also on ao3 here :)

Lucanis has become accustomed to waking in odd positions in the months since Spite was forced into him, so finding himself half-crouched on the floor, thighs tensed like he’d been in the process of rising, isn’t much of a shock.

What he is less accustomed to is regaining consciousness with another person present.

Ward Ingellvar, called Rook by everyone around her and holder of his current contract, is currently peering down at him, worry etched between her brows.

“...Lucanis? Are you… back?”

Is he in control, or is Spite?

But Spite does not press at his mind, clamoring to wrest control away. Instead, he skulks about the edges of Lucanis’ consciousness, faintly grumbling – and yet, relatively quiet.

“...yes.” For now. Which means he should get up and figure out what damage has been done while he was out.

Rook’s fingers twitch at her side, but she has the good grace not to offer him a hand up and worsen his embarrassment as he stands. She does, however, stare at him with that same look of worry. Intently. Lucanis takes a moment to assess his surroundings more thoroughly.

The last he recalls, he was writing notes, and now… well, at least Spite has not brought them far. He is still in the Lighthouse, not far from the pantry he has recently taken residence in; Spite’s escape attempt only brought them as far as the dining room.

The fire is out. The scent of wet woodsmoke hangs heavy in the air. There are potatoes scattered across the floor – as well as a few of the place settings that were formerly at home on the table.

What exactly was Spite doing?

“What… happened?” he asks carefully. The words are spoken with great reluctance. It is… less than pleasant to have to rely on others to get answers for these missing moments.

“Spite… got into a few things,” Rook says. “Well. A lot of things. Tried to talk him out of the more, ah, dangerous ventures, but that wasn’t hugely effective, so then I tried to… distract him.”

“With – the potatoes?”

Rook laughs, suddenly, then claps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. You just sounded so – …sorry.” She clears her throat. “No, the potatoes are my fault, but it wasn’t intentional. I came in to take stock of how many we had; Harding wants to make stew. But when I went to check, it… drew his attention, I suppose? He came out of the pantry, startled me, I dropped them, they scattered everywhere… then he started to poke around the room.”

“Just in the room?”

“Mmhmm. He said something about leaving, or wanting to leave, but he didn’t seem to be actively trying to go anywhere. More… seeking new sensations?” She shrugs. “I imagine there’s a lot here that was not present… before.”

In the Ossuary, she means.

It’s been mere days since stepping foot on solid ground, and in that time alone, the demon has witnessed far more than he ever did when they were trapped down in that accursed place. It should be more than enough to keep Spite occupied – but it is not.

Spite has been incessant with his questions since getting out, pestering him about new sights, new concepts – and yet, between all this, Spite makes demands to leave no matter where Lucanis goes, and complaints of being trapped when he declines. It makes no sense. The demon has always been insistent when he wants something, and he does seem to struggle to understand much about this world that is different from his own, but how could walking free of their prison have made Spite more restless?

Now, it’s like he rankles whenever Lucanis isn’t in motion. Even in the Ossuary, the grousing was less frequent. It’s enough to drive a man mad. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to it, nor does there seem to be any rhyme or reason to what Spite has been doing here.

But… he considers Rook’s words. Is that what it is? Curiosity? The desire for these new sensations? Mierda. If that’s true, he’s not sure the demon is ever going to be satisfied.

Lucanis spots a bent spoon amidst the fallen tubers, and a fork with its prongs bent back by the fireplace. “Spite’s handiwork, I assume?”

Rook nods. “Mmhmm. He did get ahold of a few more than that, though I’m not sure where they ended up.” She peers around the room as Lucanis sighs, then adds, “it’s not so bad – there weren’t enough place settings when we got here, but the Fade spit more out, so I’m sure replacements will show up eventually. And while he was preoccupied with that, I was able to move the knives out of the way.”

“The knives?”

Lucanis glances at the far corner of the kitchen, where he can detect a flicker of violet – a telltale sign that Spite is lurking nearby. The demon does not deign to chime in, though. His silence feels purposeful.

…or perhaps he is simply bored and wandered off. Maker knows he did it often enough in the Ossuary, even if the wards in place kept him confined to their erstwhile cell.

“Half the kitchen knives were laying on the countertop,” Rook says. “Felt like the sort of thing he should probably know his way around, but not without some… supervision. So. I moved ‘em. Set ‘em outside the doors, on the little balcony.”

Spite does pipe up now. “No fun,” he grumbles, then disappears from view, in the direction of the door.

“It’s not supposed to be fun,” Lucanis fires back.

He realizes too late that he has spoken aloud, when Rook stops in her tracks and shoots him a puzzled look. That’s a habit in need of breaking.

“That… was for Spite,” he explains with a sigh.

“Ah!” Understanding dawns in her eyes immediately. “Is he – still here?”

“He’s never far,” Lucanis says, “but I believe he has left us for the moment.”

Rook nods, but her eyes still drift in the general direction Lucanis was facing when he spoke to Spite. “I wonder how far he’s able to wander from you,” she murmurs. “And… does actual, physical distance have any bearing on how well you can communicate with each other? Are there sound waves moving through the air and it’s a matter of attuning to it, or is it entirely magical and facilitated by, or through, the Fade? Is there a way to become attuned to it?”

As she muses, Lucanis surveys the damage once more. It could be worse, all considered. Though the fact that Spite was able to take charge so soon – so easily – is… worrying. But there is little to be done about that now besides fixing the disorder the demon caused. He bends to pick up one of the wayward potatoes at his feet.

This, at last, breaks Rook from her reverie. “Oh! Sorry, here, let me help.” And she begins to do just that. She takes to the task with fervor, scrabbling on her knees to scoop up nearby tubers and coax them out from the nooks and crannies they have rolled into.

“Rook,” Lucanis says, “you don’t have to do that. It isn’t your mess to mend. It’s Spite’s fault – which means it’s mine to handle.”

But Rook is not to be deterred.

“Oh, no,” she says. “There wouldn’t be a mess if not for me. Not this one, anyway; I suppose he might have still gotten to the silverware later on. Even so, this?” She waves a potato in the air demonstratively before, for some reason, tucking it into one of the many pockets adorning her coat. “This one’s my fault.”

“You were only preparing for dinner. There’s no fault there.”

But she grimaces. “Weeeell, if it was that simple, I might agree with you. However…” Another potato, another pocket to stash it in. “I… may have come to, ah, hide them.”

“To hide them,” he repeats. “Is that why you're keeping them in your coat?”

Rook pauses, shoots him a glance, then… tucks yet another potato into her coat. “Yes. Better here than within reach.”

“And why exactly is that?”

“Harding wanted to make stew.”

“Yes,” he says, “you’ve mentioned that.”

“Ah. Right. You weren’t here the last time this happened. Harding made potato stew once before, soon after we came to the Lighthouse, and it was… well…”

She pauses for a moment, staring off into the middle distance as though beset by a terrible memory.

“The taste was… passable.” Yet the wrinkle around her nose and the way her lip curls slightly as she says that suggests otherwise. “But the texture… I don’t understand it. It’s like every mouthful, there was something different wrong with it. Crunchy, then mushy, then gritty, and sometimes even rubbery.”

“In a stew?”

Rook nods.

Suddenly, a comment Bellara made the previous night about acquired tastes makes sense.

“I don’t know if it’s a Ferelden thing, or if it’s because we’re in the Fade, or what,” she says. “When it was just her and Varric and me, we almost never had access to a kitchen, so I can’t say I really had a reference point for her cooking skills outside of the sort of things you could throw together on the go. But I know she could make a killer sandwich. I had so many of the Lace Specialty when we were tracking down Solas, and her yam and jam slam was perfect for traveling, too.”

“...yam and jam slam?” The words sound bafflingly foreign together.

Rook nods. “Y’know, just… buttered toast, slices of roasted yam, and some butter in between. Keeps for a surprisingly long time.”

That… sounds heinous, but he lets it pass. He won’t bother asking about the Lace Specialty – it might be best to keep that one a mystery.

“Whatever it is, though, when Harding said she wanted to make it again tonight, it seemed like it might be for the best if the main ingredient was to be… conveniently lost. But they were heavier than I expected, and I dropped the bag the first time I tried moving them, and then Spite came out, and I dropped it again and spilled them… so really, if I hadn’t been so uncharitable, maybe Spite wouldn’t have come to investigate in the first place. No noise, no mess.”

“Or,” Lucanis says, “perhaps Spite would have done more than bend a few spoons – he may have wandered off without any eyes on him.”

He is loath to admit the limitations of his ability to control the demon, but it does no good to ignore the potential threats it poses.

“Mmm.” She considers this. “You may be right. Still, I say I’m at least half responsible for the mess,” she says, and resumes her efforts to tidy.

Lucanis does the same.

A few minutes pass in silence this way, filled only by the sound of quiet shuffling and tiny clang of silverware being scooped up.

Lucanis is the first to speak. He has done much for the sake of a contract in his life – much that was miserable, or injurious, or torturous, even – but the thought of rubbery stew will not leave his mind. That… cannot come to pass.

“What did you plan to tell her?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

“Harding,” he says. “When you went back to her empty-handed. Surely she would find that odd, knowing that there had been plenty here, before.”

“Honestly, I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Rook says. “Maybe that we misremembered what we had? Or the Fade did something to them? Or… I tripped and fell and lost them all in the abyss.”

“And… what did you plan to eat, then?”

“Had not thought that far either,” she admits.

He makes a contemplative noise and picks up what seems to be the last of the ruined silverware. Unless, of course, Spite has stashed more elsewhere in the room. Lucanis wouldn’t put it past him.

“You know,” he says, “I do know how to cook.”

“You do?”

Perhaps he ought to be offended by her tone, but amusement wins out. “I do,” he confirms.

“The master assassin has kitchen skills?”

“The master assassin has to eat.”

“I suppose so.” She cocks her head to the side and blinks owlishly at him. “Wait – are you saying you’d be willing to make dinner tonight instead? Really?”

“Seems a waste of perfectly good potatoes to hide them away,” he says. “That is, of course, if you do not mind a master assassin handling your food.”

Rook scoops up the last handful of potatoes at her feet and rises. “If you poison me with something edible, I’ll die happier than I’d live if I ate that stew again.” And then her expression reflects a sudden panic. “–not that I really think you’d do that!”

“It’s natural to worry about,” he says. They ought to consider the possibility, at least. He won’t be poisoning anyone today – but a little more caution on their part wouldn’t go amiss.

“But I really don’t think–” She cuts herself off before finishing. Instead, she worries her lower lip between her teeth, then asks, “are you sure you’re alright doing this for us?”

There is apprehension in her voice, in her expression, but he is unsure of the reason for it. “I would not offer if I did not mean it,” he assures her.

“I only mean – we’re asking a lot of you, as it is. Killing… gods, or ancient mages, if that distinction means anything. That’s your contract, not… playing scullery maid or chef. We really should be providing for you, not the other way around.”

Ah. The fear of overstepping. That, he can do something about.

“If I allow myself to be sickened by tainted food and am too weak to hold a dagger straight, my odds of fulfilling my contract become… low,” he says. “And I do not fail contracts.”

Rook nods slowly at that. “Point made. …you don’t think it would do any harm to tell Harding a little white lie, do you? Say that you were already making food when I came in – something with potatoes, so, alas, we’re fresh out, and dinner is taken care of for the night. You know a recipe that involves potatoes, right?”

A recipe?

“I'm sure I can think of something,” he says mildly.

“Excellent. And… maybe Harding will just forget about stew by the time we get more.” She rolls her shoulders. “…I suppose there’s no need to hold on to these, then.”

Rook crosses to the kitchen area and begins to set tuber after tuber on the countertops, first arranging the ones from her arms, and then pulling them from her coat pockets. Lucanis brings his armful over as well, placing them beside her pile until there is a nice, tidy row.

“We’ve got sort of a hodgepodge of various ingredients,” she says, “and they’re a little… scattered.”

“I’ve noticed.” The pantry has plenty of root vegetables, but not nearly as many essentials beyond that, and while he may not have had much time to examine the areas of the Lighthouse besides his erstwhile living space, even a quick perusal of the cabinets did not turn up much more.

“Honestly,” she says, “it’s been difficult to keep track of what was here before we got here, what we brought in, and what’s just… appeared. Still! There ought to be enough to make… something other than that stew. Would you like some help?”

But as she asks this, another voice steals away his attention.

“Smells. Like earth.”

Lucanis has the composure not to jolt or visibly startle when the demon speaks into his ear – but it does delay his response by a moment. What was it she said? She asked if he needed help?

“There’s no need,” Lucanis says, “you’ve already done more than enough, straightening out Spite’s chaos. I shouldn’t require any further help.”

“I’m sure you’re quite capable in the kitchen and you don’t need help,” she says, “but would you accept some anyway? To speed it up, or to give you less to do? I can’t say I’m particularly practiced – I never spent all that long on a cooking rotation – but I also never had my rotation ended early after giving the whole hall food poisoning like some of the other Watchers did, so…”

Spite chooses now to hover around her, craning to peer over her shoulder, and then looks back at Lucanis. “Lucanis. Why?”

Lucanis does his best to ignore the demon and process her words.

Does she ask out of that fear of overstepping again? Not wanting to give him too many duties outside of his contract? Lingering distrust, despite her insistence on the contrary? Wanting to be sure he isn’t going to slip something in the food and poison them after all? Or is it simply a genuine desire to be helpful?

He’d like to think he would have a better read on that, normally – when there isn’t a demon speaking incessantly into his ear.

“Different. From potatoes. Different. From the others. Lucanis.”

“...Lucanis?”

Rook, this time. Her brow is once again knit with something akin to worry. She has said something else, he realizes, that he did not catch, preoccupied with Spite as he was.

“It’s… Spite,” he admits. “He is… curious again.”

Rook tilts her head and narrows her eyes as though doing so will allow her to hear the demon. As though this is something to desire instead of something to endure. “What is he asking?”

But Lucanis shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Best not to indulge him, it will only encourage him to try this again.”

She frowns and opens her mouth as if to protest, then shuts it again. Which is just as well, because Spite continues to pester him, needling him with increasing agitation.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” she asks, just as Spite growls, “Lucanis!”

He needs —

A moment to himself. Some quiet. Rare though that may be.

Lucanis runs a hand through his hair as he gathers his thoughts. “…didn’t you say you were going to tell Harding her efforts were no longer needed?”

“Yes!” Rook clasps her hands together. “Right. I should let her know. Then she can rest of it longer, after all that rock magic she did today. Why don’t I do that and then I can come back and… peel? Stir? Scrub? Any of those tedious little tasks you don’t feel like doing, foist them onto me, yes?”

“Yes,” he agrees, though really, he has only ever been able to tolerate the presence of others in the kitchen with him in small doses, aside from those who had the kindness to teach him the basics in the first place – and Illario, though his cousin usually tested his patience before too long.

He shouldn’t refuse, though. What grounds does he have to turn her down?

Rook nods, and then she is off.

When she is gone and Lucanis is as alone as he can be, these days, Spite redoubles his questioning.

“Like dirt,” says the demon, “earth. But not like. Harding.”

“No,” Lucanis sighs. “Not like Harding.”

Harding smells like… loam. Fresh, healthy soil, flecked with green and growing things. Rook smells more like… old earth. Drier, dustier.

“Why?”

“Why does it matter?” He cannot keep the exasperation from his voice any longer.

“You notice. But won’t. Say why.”

He does notice. It’s an old habit, and one he intends to keep sharp. Things left unnoticed are things he cannot account for, and even a scent can be a warning sign of some danger lying in wait.

“It isn’t important enough to interrupt,” he says. “Spite, I cannot focus when you’re speaking over someone. Others… notice.”

“But why? Why not. The same?”

“It’s just different. There doesn’t have to be a reason.” Even if there is, it’s not one that the demon is likely to understand. What does he know of gardening, or catacombs? And he does not have the time required to give Spite an answer that would satisfy him.

“Is,” Spite grumbles. “But Lucanis. Never wants. To say. Why.”

Spite continues to voice his discontentment, but Lucanis turns his focus away from the demon and towards the task at hand, taking the opportunity to take stock of what’s in the cabinets.

It isn’t much. The shelves are in dire need of restocking. But… there’s olive oil. And several glass jars with the names of various spices written on them in what looks to be Bellara’s handwriting.

Below, pots and pans of… sufficient size and quality, at least for now. Right. He can make something of this.

He diverts, briefly, to the pantry, and returns with root vegetables, as well as a few onions. It won’t be the stew Harding envisioned, but there is enough for soup.

As he sets these on the counter, besides the row of potatoes, he says, “Spite.”

Spite is entirely uninterested in his attempt at conversation, preferring instead to stare intently at the vegetables. He bends until his face is almost flush with the countertop, then reaches out and pokes at the pile, watching one of them wobble.

Lucanis isn’t sure if that actually does push it forward or if it’s simply unbalanced. Truly, he’s not certain how much influence Spite can exert on the world when he isn’t considering Lucanis’ body. There wasn’t much to test this on in the Ossuary; the venatori did have enough sense not to provide a practiced assassin with anything that could be used as a weapon. Which was, well, anything, when you’re a Crow. So the only thing Spite could consistently attempt to influence was… him.

If Spite is able to influence physical objects even when incorporeal... well. It’s something to watch out for. Another layer of danger to this whole situation. Even if Spite is only using this influence to poke around at root vegetables.

“Spite,” he says again, firmer.

The demon glances his way, which might be the most acknowledgment he’s going to get.

“You cannot – we cannot – be walking around whenever you want. And you cannot just… take over like that. My body isn’t yours to do as you wish with it, and – besides that, a demon in the midst of everyone, outside of the Fade, it scares people.” As it should.

“Wasn’t. Outside it! And she. Already knows! About us!” Spite protests.

“Yes,” he says, “but losing control like that – not knowing where I am? – it’s… unprofessional.”

Spite grumbles but makes no other reply. Lucanis opens the cabinets again and begins sorting through the jars of spices.

“We – I – seem less… competent. Less trustworthy when this happens.”

Spite doesn’t even bother to grumble in response this time, only presses his face closer to the counter, watching how light filters through the glass jars.

Lucanis sighs. His professional reputation has surely been marred enough by his absence; that he has been made an abomination and cannot seem to keep a tight enough leash on Spite for this fact to stay secret forever… well. It will not help that. The whispers back home may not have started yet, but it is only a matter of time, and all his past deeds, all the respect and good regard he once had earned, may crumble in the face of his new, permanent guest.

And he can’t even say this isn’t exactly what ought to happen. Who would trust a man – an abomination – who could lose himself at any moment to the capricious whims of a demon? Even here, now, amidst all their kind words, these excursions cannot foster encouragement about his ability to fulfill his contract.

“What must they think…”

Spite pokes at a potato now.

“Rook thinks. You have. Nice hands.”

Lucanis pauses. He closes the cabinet to get a clearer look at Spite.

“…Spite,” he says quietly, voice carefully restrained, “how do you know that?”

Spite barely spares him a glance between examining root vegetables. “She said so!”

“Yes, but – why did she say so?”

A thousand different scenarios flash through his head. Rook said Spite bent silverware, chased potatoes, was interested in knives, but… what part of that could have inspired a comment like that? What else could Spite have done while Lucanis wasn’t in control?

Spite spares another glance at Lucanis, but seems faintly baffled by the question. “No. Fun.”

That’s hardly an answer.

“Spite.” Lucanis is terse, now. “What. Exactly. Did she say?”

“Careful, Spite. Don’t want to ruin. His nice. Hands.” Spite makes a face – with his face, which should feel stranger, but doesn’t, after so many months with only reflection of his own face gazing back at him as his only company. “And then!” the demon says, no longer mimicking, “she put. It. Out!”

“The knives?” Lucanis asks.

“The fire!”

Spite’s expression – his expression – suggests this is an offense of the highest order. He practically pouts, jerking his chin towards the fireplace, which he now gazes balefully at. “Wouldn’t. Let me touch,” he complains.

“…ah.” That… makes sense. The smell of wet wood, the decidedly damp logs in the fireplace… “Spite, fire is not to be touched.”

“Why. Not? Rook makes fire.”

“And Rook still doesn’t go sticking her hands in fireplaces. You shouldn’t, either.” He sets another jar on the counter, then adds, “or ovens. Or candles.”

Spite’s lips twist down. “Lucanis is no. Fun. Rook. Is no. Fun. Only want. To see! Not fair!”

“Touching is not seeing, Spite.” Lucanis can hear the sound of footsteps, faint but growing nearer. Rook is returning. “You’re welcome to watch and see all you like, now, but keep quiet. …I’ll see about relighting the fireplace if you can manage it.”

This, at least, elicits a positive response from the demon, and Spite is grinning as he says, “deal!”

It is a deal Spite is likely to break before long, but Lucanis will cherish the brief moments of silence he gets all the same.

#lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #rookanis #rook ingellvar #ward ingellvar #dragon age #veilguard #YES this is connected to that other thing i posted a while ago. this happens.... earlier! than that one.

71 notes · View notes

the-raven-and-the-tower · 2 months ago

Text

Before their friendship developed, Harding was hella suspicious of Lucanis out of protectiveness and mean about it.

Harding: The Demon of Vyrantium, huh? And they called you that before the demon.

Lucanis: Ah. You don't have that enchanted barbed arrow in your quiver because you think it's pretty.

Harding: It is though, isn't it? The red shimmer is the enfeebling magic. And the spiked tip is designed to splinter inside the target.

Lucanis: Very nice.

Refusing to be baited. He's called the situation out for what it is and now he refuses to rise to a taunt as barbed as her arrow. Lace is just being protective of her people, and he seems to recognize that. Worse, he may think he deserves some level of suspicion, based on what we find in his mental Ossuary later. But further... Lucanis just left behind a year of torture and imprisonment, he's no stranger to being taunted with his own death. Harding isn't getting a rise out of him that easily.

Harding: I thought you'd like that! I really hope I don't have to use it though. It cost me a lot of gold.

Lucanis: That's why you only have the one.

Harding: Well, I only need one. Especially from this close.

Lucanis: You cannot help but flinch whenever I use my skills. You think, "Ah, this time he's definitely gone full demon."

Harding: It's not personal.

I read this as progress from where their relationship was last time we heard them speak. "It's not you I don't like, I just don't trust the demon you have in you."

Lucanis: If you're watching me in battle, you leave yourself open to our actual enemies.

Logic and reason, using their shared goal as the hinge. Wise Crow.

Harding: The power of the demon-possessed assassin should make up for how twitchy everyone else gets, right?

^ Cranky or not, she listened. Right after this, we got into a fight with some Darkspawn and Lucanis was actively cheering Harding on when she kept her focus on the fight. And he does it by praising her ferocity. "Harding, that was terrifying!" but in an almost proud way. It was great.

His response is kindness.

When we go on his "getting to know Lucanis' quest to the markets in Treviso, he does this-

Lucanis: Ah. Here. (finding what he was looking for)

Rook: A potted plant?

Lucanis: For Harding's garden. Spearmint is supposed to calm bad dreams. It's good in desserts, too.

He's brand new to the team at this point and we know he's rejecting sleep, avoiding it at all costs. Meanwhile, Harding is brand new to having nightmares - it's not hard to picture her stumbling into the pantry for a cup of something bracing and forgetting Lucanis is there. The same person who has openly threatened to kill him and gone so far as to tell him how she'll do it, and he's getting her a potted plant. I love seeing how he uses his carefully-honed skills of perception to help instead of hurt. She likes plants, so he gets her one. She has nightmares, so he finds a way to help that fits into her likes already. It's a beautiful thing.

They develop a friendship later and we get a lot of great banter from them around dreams, but even so, when we go into the Ossuary of Lucanis's mind, we find this;

HARDING: Don't worry, Rook. I've got my eye on the prisoner.

Still a prisoner in his own mind. I also have to wonder if a little of Lace's early treatment of him reminded him of the guards in the Ossuary. I appreciate that Harding was just being protective of her people, but to a man who has just left a year of torture in an underwater prison behind, anyone who describes how they're planning to kill him if he steps out of line has to remind him of it a little.

ROOK, displeased: You've conjured up a friendly face, Lucanis. But your real friends and allies need you, in the real world.

HARDING: Rook, are you sure Spite isn't tricking you? What if there's no Lucanis - just the demon?

Lucanis's impression of Lace's fears earlier was 'You cannot help but flinch whenever I use my skills. You think, "Ah, this time he's definitely gone full demon."'

ROOK: After a year in the Ossuary, you might believe that. But you're no demon.

HARDING: Look around. This isn't the mind of a human being, let alone an Antivan Crow.

It's Harding's voice, but Lucanis's thoughts. It makes me think of the scrap of a thought we found in the Ossuary; I didn't want you to see that. Again... -I'm not this. I cannot be this-

ROOK: You're still the man you were, Lucanis, even buried in this pain. No demon would punish itself like this.

HARDING: You really shouldn't trust anything you find in the Fade.

ROOK: I trust you, Lucanis, and I trust myself to get you home. Let me.

HARDING: You know that's the kind of attitude that's gonna get you killed, right?

ROOK, still to Lucanis and not the projection: I'll risk it. I have a master assassin on my side. Don't I?

HARDING, fading into light: Just... be careful.

And because I have no idea how to end this thread other than angst, I present to you this;

A Lucanis who has finally escaped the Ossuary of his own mind with Rook's help and begun to believe that he can have a future with Rook, maybe even a happy one. Free from the mental shackles of his mind, he starts to build a real friendship with Lace even as they stop having as many midnight talks after each of them starts sleeping through the night better.

Losing both of them in one night when Lace sacrifices herself to save Rook from Ghilan'nain after Lucanis gets slammed into a rock and has to watch helplessly as Lace dies. And then the bitter triumph of making his kill after she buys them a distraction... only for Rook to be snatched into the fade by Solas's betrayal.

Rook was in the Fade for weeks. Imagine that first night, with Lucanis alone with nothing but his guilt-ridden thoughts and Spite's screams.

#this took 2+ hours #harding’s arrows and attitude #spearmint for solace #ftr lace was just being protective of her people she the protective friend #barbs turned to banter #the angst grows faster than mint does once it escapes the pot #lucanis x rook #lucanis x harding #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age lucanis #the ossuary #lace harding #scout harding

58 notes · View notes

rachelamberish · 5 months ago

Text

Comprehensive Veilguard Review (FULL SPOILERS)

What They Got Right:

-The environments. My God, seeing some of these locations that we’ve only read about for a decade had me getting legitimately choked up just looking at them. I cried entering the Grand Necropolis. I cried at Weisshaupt. I cried at Kal Sharok. The Ossuary. The Crossroads 2 Electric Boogaloo. Just all absolutely stunning, and so lovingly crafted.

-The art direction, on top of that. They kind of go hand in hand, but genuinely, it’s great. I think the art director deserves a raise for the candlehops alone.

-The music. I love it. I know it’s not what it has been, but I think it’s fucking great. The Blight theme is far and away the best, but so many of the other tracks really fully commit to the fantasy-futurism aesthetic that has been crafted by the art direction and I think it’s so fucking cool that the music has evolved as we travel to new locations and the world of Thedas really opens up.

-Companions. I’ve spoken a little about this already. But yes, the companions are incredible. The pacing of getting to know each of them is so well executed. (It feels unfortunate that the same cannot be said about the story as a whole, really). They are each truly so memorable and I think BioWare knocking it out of the park with its companions is nothing new.

-Vocal Performances. Gareth David Lloyd should be lauded for his work as Solas. You can hear how that performance has evolved and matured over the years like a fine wine. His vicelike grasp on the nuance of that character transcends even the game’s often questionable writing. Truly incredible stuff. I also have to mention Jee Young Han for Bellara, and Bryony Corrigan and Alex Jordan for two versions of Rook. The rest of the cast is fantastic as well, those four are just so incredibly standout to me.

-This feels very specific but The Siege of Weisshaupt. That quest. Is. *chefs kiss emoji*. It’s giving game of thrones season 8 episode 4 the long night where i cant see anything but also i have existential dread!!!! Love that

-Codex entries are as well written as they ever have been, so no dip in quality of the writing there. Particularly a huge fan of the passive aggressive emails sent between Solas and the Evanuris like they were all shitty coworkers. Elgar’nan screaming “i’m the ELDEST BOY!!!” at the top of his lungs à la Kendall Roy while he and solas bicker about who was conceived of by the Fade first. Very good stuff

-Ghilan’nain is an eldritch horror lesbian witch and that is so so cool. Thank you bioware

-Maevaris Tilani

-Combat and performance. Because neither of these are story stuff, I’ll throw these together. The game performs like a fucking dream and is incredibly optimized. The combat feels amazing and I genuinely look forward to combat encounters rather than dreading them. No notes.

….The Rest, in No Particular Order:

- Morrigan forgiving her mother and the game erasing Flemeth’s nastiness was truly vomit-inducing so thanks for that one bioware

- Is Mythal good or bad bioware please answer the question and you CAN’T look at your notes

- They do get Solas mostly spot-on but Mythal is so inconceivably bad and it’s hard to divorce the two. Ironic, considering that they should be the most divorced couple that ever lived

-"Flemeth's piece of Mythal was the good version actually and was completely uncorrupted" bitch HOW?!!??!??!!?! FUCKING HOW?!?!? Literally A GAME AGO she screams at Morrigan and Lavellan about "a reckoning that will shake the heavens" promising vengeance for her betrayal because she's done nothing but stew ALONE in her anger for 2,000 years, ALSO piling on the rage and betrayals of Flemeth and (I think it's safe to presume at this point) Andraste and EVERY OTHER host she's had. If we have learned ANYTHING about spirits and "abominations" through four games it is that the spirit becomes corrupted "against its original purpose" when fused with the negative emotions of its host. What was the point of Anders, if not to foreshadow what Flemeth truly was? A spirit of justice corrupted against her purpose by living inside righteously angry women for millennia? If anything the Dagger-version of Mythal would be the uncorrupted one. Sure, she'd be lonely and pissed too but that would be the truest version to who Mythal ACTUALLY was from before. A mixed bag of grief and anger and hurt and pride. But the rage inside Flemeth's Mythal would be wild and unfettered. She would be almost unrecognizable.

-I'm moving on from Mythal now because ranting any more about her in this game is actually going to give me an aneurysm.

- Yeah this game suffers from lack of roleplay and choice carryover. It’s impossible to avoid. It was okay to suspend roleplay in a game like, say, Dragon Age 2, because Hawke as the game wrote her was such a strong personality and memorable protagonist. Rook is…. not that. Which is okay for a blank slate protagonist, but they’re also not that either. And i think they didnt commit, fully, to the idea of less roleplay. Because they *tried* to give you origin stories, but they don’t end up feeling like they truly inform the character in the way that they do in Origins, or even in Inquisition. Say what you will about Inquisition’s roleplay options, but Lavellan being Dalish DEFINES her character.

- And what do you know. Yeah. It was bad that they only let us carry over three choices. Who could have seen that one coming. It’s almost like everyone ever was like “wow. That sucks. Please reconsider.” And then they didn’t.

- And it also gets extra confusing when you realize that the three choices they said were going to matter a LOT literally don’t. At all. So that was a lie. I guess. Even Solas romancers who were being PANDERED to apparently get…like two mentions of something that feels like it should be so pervasive throughout the whole story. And one ending.

- Solavellan writing failure gets its own bullet point actually. There was so much ample opportunity for Lavellan’s presence in this story to be amplified. For the Lighthouse to contain more traces of her. In codex entries, in murals. I get that Solas probably wouldn’t talk about her to Rook much. But the fact of his yearning is downplayed when it should be overplayed. He yearns for this woman who made him think he was worth something for the first time since he took a physical body, while clouded by regret for his feelings for a long-dead woman who made him hate himself. That’s the saddest fucking story ever. Why does this game not lean into it more? I don’t know. You don’t know. None of us know.

- BioWare kind of forgot that fifty percent of the Tevinter population is slaves. What do the shadow dragons even do? There are apparently no slaves left to free!!

- BioWare kind of forgot that the Crows are very cool and yes very Italian!! 🤌🤌🤌 but also buy child slaves and turn them into soldiers by systematically weeding empathy out of them. So where was any of that.(*where is Zevran or someone who fills the role of that character. He is so desperately needed to portray the Crows with any nuance.*)

- The depiction of the Qunari/kossith, outside of Taash’s storyline (which I actually think was a very thoughtful examination of the intersection of gender and Qunari ideology), is actually the craziest most stereotypical one-note racist bullshit i’ve ever seen and i am shocked any writer allowed that to be the final product.

- You know what yes i also noticed that you couldn’t ever be mean in this game and also Rook smiles so much. She smiles when saying things she should not smile about. Idk why but that bothers me. And why are her hands always on her hips? What is she hiding

- The exposition-heavy dialogue is terrible at the start, gets way better around the first act break, then turns dangerously close back around to Avengers-style “Well, that just happened!” and it’s a mixed bag that I don’t know what to do with. I can’t blame bioware for the exposition, I’m sure that’s an EA directive of “pander to the people that want to come into the fourth installment of a series knowing nothing and not be completely lost”. But the rest…..let’s just say I can feel how many people had their hands in writing this. And I can feel it because the quality swings back and forth so wildly it gives me whiplash.

- Because of no choice carryover cameos feel like cardboard cutouts of characters. Dorian worked for me because he was doing things he would be doing anyway and it is passively mentioned that he and the Inquisitor are in close contact. Isabela is skinny like a twig now i guess (??? Hate that) and i’m happy for her whole lords of fortune thing but she is made lesser by being completely divorced from Hawke. Same for Varric, although at least he has more to do. Morrigan…………………………………………………………………anyway moving on.

- The Dalish.

- BioWare kind of forgot that Solas doesn’t hate blood magic. Doesn’t use it personally. But doesn’t hate it. Also what he does to gain a connection to Rook is LITERALLY blood magic. I don’t fucking know WHY he/the game insists that it’s not. I’m beside myself with that one.

- BioWare kind of forgot about the brewing elven uprising led by Solas that they set up at the end of Trespasser and instead now he’s a lone actor and everyone hates him. Like no. No actually some elves would have found what he was doing very cool and a great alternative to the terrible hand the world has dealt them. Perhaps all those elven Tevinter slaves you forgot to put in the game.

- BioWare kind of forgot about Briala in their rush to say “but nothing in southern thedas matters!!!”

- Cole should be in this game and the fact that he is not is actually fucking baffling.

- VERY BIG SPOILER Varric dying is fine actually and the one thing i’m literally perfectly okay with so idk why i put it down here other than it feels wrong putting this spoiler at the top lmao. But yeah that’s fine. We knew it was coming and Peepaw needed rest anyway. Good reveal, no issue there.

- Lucanis’ bugged romance ruined my life

- I made a separate post about this but Veilguard has single handedly eradicated mystery in the Dragon Age series without creating any new mystery and it’s what I’m legitimately the most sad about.

All in all, a mixed bag. I enjoyed my time with it, but it left me sad at times and not in the good way. The idea I have of Dragon Age in my head will always be more true to Dragon Age to me than this was, and I can live with that, I was just hoping for better on a lot of writing fronts.

#dragon age #datv spoilers #dragon age: the veilguard #veilguard spoilers #datv

57 notes · View notes

thegeminisage · 2 months ago

Text

thing of the day that's making me crazy:

prior to rescuing lucanis, caterina tells you she knows lucanis is alive because the body brought back to her a year ago was not his, but it had been altered with blood magic to look like him. how she knows this we never find out (does she have the ability to sense it like lucanis does...?) but we have just been introduced to the idea that deaths can and will be faked sometimes, even if you see a body

after you rescue lucanis from the ossuary, he returns to cantori diamond and is told caterina is dead. actually, the exact wording is "the venatori got her in the confusion." NO ONE SAYS DEAD. rook can say it, if you pick the right option, but nobody else does!

later, teia even says "they took caterina from my house." not "they killed caterina in my house," "they took her." NOBODY IS SAYING THE WORD DEAD. NOBODY IS TAKING ABOUT A CORPSE.

lucanis doesn't ask how she was killed. he doesn't ask to see the body. he just accepts that the same woman who survived the murder of nearly their entire family is dead and moves right along to god-killing with rook

...UNTIL THE FUNERAL PREPARATIONS

when you go back with lucanis to meet teia and plan the funeral, THEN he asks about means of death

furthermore, teia turns to illario and ASKS FOR CATERINA'S ASHES. i did some googling and i can't recall a single instance of a thedas funeral but surely the task of cremation is PART OF THE CEREMONY? surely before the funeral there should still be a body to see?

furthermore, even if nobody is smart enough to go "maybe caterina's body is a fake like lucanis's was," lucanis can, canonically, sense blood magic. it makes the backs of his eyes hurt. there's NO WAY he could be tricked by a fake body, and there's NO WAY he would not ask to see it before it was burned

ALSO WHY ARE THEY HAVING THE FUNERAL IF SHE HAS ALREADY BEEN CREMATED.....funerals are about grief and bodies!!! ig maybe thedas funerals do all that before the funeral itself but that doesn't make much sense either.

so maybe illario was smart enough not to pull the "corpse altered with blood magic" trick again. did he instead pretend to cremate caterina before lucanis got back from the ossuary? they can't have been gone from treviso long because the ossuary is close enough to get to via rowboat. he would have had to do some serious shagging ass. did nobody think it was weird that he was cremating his grandma .5 seconds after she died so lucanis couldn't get a look at her before he got back from the torment nexus?

furthermore, the proposed motives for this crime - that either the gods killed the first talon, or zara did as revenge for lucanis' prison break - are both really flimsy. why would the gods give a shit about caterina dellamorte? how would zara know lucanis had broken out if she wasn't in the prison? i know these aren't the ACTUAL motives for the crime, but why is viago the only one in the room going "yeah that timing is kinda wack" and only if rook brings it up first??

finally, did lucanis seriously not go to HIS OWN HOUSE while caterina was being held hostage there? what? not once in all that time??? did he not have to pick up some clothes or his good throwing knife or whatever? (we cannot even get into the fact that in dialogue it says the venatori stole his clothes to put on the fake corpse WHERE DID HIS FANCY LITTLE OUTFIT COME FROM THEN)

conclusion:

i sincerely believe that caterina being presumed dead was a last-minute addition and she was supposed to have been kidnapped by the venatori this whole time. nobody talks about a corpse because there isn't one. they only changed it because if she was kidnapped, lucanis would not be taking you on coffee dates or killing gods for you when he could/should be looking for her (this game already has a problem with a lack of a feeling of urgency).

other conclusion: between the conflicting information regarding the ossuary's location and the demon blood binding thing being inconsistent with lore from the other games, nothing about lucanis's storyline actually holds up to scrutiny at all and it's making me NUTS like i'm not even TRYING to be hashtag veilguard critical i just want to write a sequel to my damn fanfic and bioware is making it SO HARD

#personal #liz plays dragon age #untitled rookanis fic #lucanis dellamorte #i'm going to have to go with like a burned body or something...

27 notes · View notes

corvid-kore · 2 months ago

Text

Alone we are, unknown we are (Lucanis x F!Crow!Rook)

Work Summary: Lucanis and Rook set off to find a Warden in the Anderfels, and the consequences of refusing to sleep become impossible to hide.

Tags: Mentions and/or allusions to torture and its aftermath. Sleep deprivation and its effects. Mentions and/or allusions to child abuse (Cateirna). Spite is a little unsettling/inhuman but I love him. F!Crow!Rook x Lucanis, set in early game (a Warden's Best Friend), Lucanis PoV.

Word Count: 10k (10,041 words. I have issues.)

A/N: I've been meaning to explore how the lack of sleep and constant caffeine intake (plus struggling against Spite constantly, and the paranoia because he's deep in the "It Wasn't Illario" denial) should really be affecting Lucanis long before Weisshaupt. I have other ideas for other moments like this during the game, if you like this and want more let me know and I'll post them!

Also, Drusilla is mentioned here a couple of times. She's an OC I made up for my Rook's backstory (that I then had to try to fit into canon because I did not know Rook was going to be a de Riva), the Fifth Talon before Viago. Rook is considered her daughter, but she isn't.

Title from Better Love, by Hozier, because: "Staring in the blackness at some distant star, The thrill of knowing how alone we are, unknown we are, To the wild and to the both of us, I confessed the longing I was dreaming of."

He hears the almost-silent footsteps as Rook walks into the kitchen, and listens for the change in the cadence of her steps that tells him whether she is here to talk to him or simply to fetch something from the kitchen. Whenever she approaches the pantry, whether intentionally as to avoid sneaking up on him, or by instinct after having spent her life surrounded by Crows, Rook makes her steps louder, easier to hear.

Spite’s forceful attempt to wrestle control over the body from Lucanis is sudden but thankfully over quickly when the demon encounters the familiar resistance.

(Rook!)

“Quiet.” Lucanis hisses at the demon, but it’s pointless, he can feel echoes of Spite’s delight at Rook’s presence in his own chest, in the restlessness the demon forcefully shares with him.

Spite, in this strange mimicry of Lucanis’ image, stands by the door, slightly hunched as if a beast on the prowl, as he hears for Rook’s footsteps coming closer.

(Rook! Is here!)

“Lucanis?” A faint rasp of knuckles against his door, and at his call to come in, Rook peeks her head into the small room with a smile, “Up for a hunt, you and I? A Grey Warden.”

___

“He couldn’t be in some secret mission somewhere sunny in Rivain, no. He had to be in the middle of an ocean of sand,” She complains, and her next step kicks up a little bit more sand, to which Rook simply sighs. He knows that more sand got into her boots by that sigh alone. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye and adds, “Preferable to having to find him in the middle of the actual ocean, mind you.”

“On that, we are in agreement.”

“I found Bellara writing down a list of questions about the Ossuary, by the way. When Caterina’s enchanter told us about the wards of the place, I thought that little boat was going to capsize with how much Bellara was fidgeting and gesturing,” She turns to him, a tilt of her head to the side, “Am I warning you in time or has she already gotten to you?”

“She has…a lot of questions,” Lucanis admits, “I tried, but I couldn’t answer most of them.”

(I can.)

Spite sounds almost cruel in his glee, arrogant.

(You don’t see. I do.)

Lucanis ignores him, but the tinge of irritation isn’t something he can hide. Spite’s delight at having found something to prod at him with, at having found a means with which to spite him, is loud and uncouth and only deepens Lucanis’ annoyance.

The two of them -though Spite insists on counting three- continue on their trek through the High Anderfels’ desert, while Rook recounts what Harding’s Warden contacts shared with her, and what Neve and Rook found out about this monster hunter through their Crow and Tevinter contacts.

Before long, the sun has started to set. Lucnais watches in amusement as Rook narrows her eyes at the faint line of sunlight still lingering in the horizon with utter contempt in her gaze, as if personally offended by the fact that the sun is setting.

Traveling with the caravan that Rook somehow charmed into taking her and Lucanis as close to the Warden’s last known location as their route allowed them to did save them both from the worst of the desert sun, but it also means they will have found no trail to follow in the first day, even if they did narrow the distance between them and their target.

A small structure, what is most likely an outpost for travelers, cuts the vast nothingness of the High Anderfels, and without words they start heading towards there, to find shelter for the night if nothing else.

The small building, emulating a fortress’ tower, has certainly seen better days, and both Crows are in agreement that daring to trust the roof won’t crumble over their heads is foolish, so they decide to stay on the outside. They make camp in the corner created by one of the building’s walls and one side of its small stone fence, taking cover from the worst of the desert’s winds and cold.

While Lucanis sets up a small fire, Rook manages to sit still for a total of a minute and a half, her eyes trained on the structure, before she stands again and ventures into the dilapidated building.

A flickering orb trails after her, lighting her way, though unlike the mage lights he has seen others conjure up, hers is tinged by a faint shade of violet, and if he focuses on the light, ignoring the way it worsens his already present headache, he can see faint shots of lightning dancing inside the orb of light.

It seems the very stone that makes up the outpost trembles when she shoves her shoulder against the door to force it open, but she treads inside regardless.

“Rook, I doubt that’s safe.”

“It isn’t,” She agrees, but he still hears her boots treading on the rubble of the building’s interior. “But I want to know what’s in here.”

(Curiosity?)

Lucanis doesn’t acknowledge the demon’s question, and he isn’t even sure it was a question Lucanis was meant to answer anyways.

A breath, two, and Spite refutes his own observation, answers his own question,

(No.)

“There’s a water pump!” Rook calls out, “And a lot of firewood, wh-…Oh, some people scratched their names into the logs!”

___

Bedrolls laid out and the first watch given to Lucanis, Rook takes off her armor and sits before the fire. She announces her intention, with a tired tilt to her voice that speaks of reluctance, to clean her weapon from the Varghest blood still staining it after they ran into those creatures near the Eluvian that took them here.

More abruptly that he would like, more eagerly than he would like, Lucanis offers,

“I can do it.”

“What?”

“I…don’t mind taking care of that for you. It’ll give me something to do.” He assures her, gritting his teeth at the pull from the demon to voice other thoughts, to reveal what Lucanis has carefully pushed aside, ignored.

(You. Want to.)

Lucanis doesn’t answer. He tries not to answer, usually. It gives Spite an incentive to keep prodding and pushing at the edges of his mind if Lucanis acknowledges him directly.

A few breaths of silence, only the faint sounds of Rook moving about the small camp, before Spite prods again, unwilling to let go of his previous observation.

(Why?)

Why wouldn’t I?

Spite crouches slightly at the quick response from Lucanis, resembling, despite the human form it takes, a beast lowering its body to the ground before it is to pounce.

From the corner of his eye, he can see the demon’s shoulders rise with a deep breath it doesn’t need to take, and the grumbled sound resembling laughter that Spite makes as he breathes out sounds much closer than it should, the rumbling from deep in the demon’s chest resonating in Lucanis’ head.

(Rook.)

That’s all Spite says, as if that is an answer to some question Lucanis isn’t privy to, as if that explains something, before his attention is drawn to her and away from Lucanis.

As if summoned, Rook returns to the small fire with a sheathed mageknife in her hand. After setting the bedroll down and spreading it as close to the campfire as she can, she sits down and offers the knife to Lucanis, handle towards him.

“Only one?”

“Viago hates it when I waste poison. More blades means more surface to cover,” She retorts, bringing one leg close to her chest and resting her cheek on her knee. “Besides, a mage is never disarmed.”

A gesture of her hand, and a dagger, quite similar to the one now in Lucanis’ hands, materializes in her own. The spell is cast with such ease that only after the conjured knife is securely on her hold does Lucanis feel the familiar tell of magic in the pricking of his eyes.

The dagger seems like a carefully crafted glass replica to the naked eye, but it thrums with latent magic, and the almost-violet tinge of the knife’s surface is painted by faint streaks of lightning every few seconds.

Another gesture of her hand, a barely-there flick of her wrist, and the weapon disappears, a diminutive streak of lightning fading as if a flame smothered by lack of air.

(We. Can do that.)

Before the demon’s words are through, Lucanis feels the now-familiar -even if strange, even if uncanny- pull of the demon’s influence on the Veil to form once again the wings on Lucanis’ back.

He rushes to interrupt him, for the first time in days intentionally turning to look at the demon that crouches beside Rook.

No. And it’s not the same.

Spite turns to him with a furrow between his brows.

(Show her.)

She knows already.

(Show her again.)

He ignores the petulant demand, choosing instead to return a fallen log back to its original position in the campfire.

“I’m going to bed, but do wake me if anything seems off,” Rook states, toeing off her boots and placing them against one of the dilapidated walls. “I’ll be up in a few hours and take watch.”

He almost tells her not to worry about waking herself up, that he won’t sleep anyways, that they needn’t worry about shifts in keeping watch, but there’s surreal normalcy in this. Even if there’s a lyrium dagger capable of killing gods on the sand next to her bedroll, even if Lucanis sees a demon of spite linger so close to her it seems like he’s sniffing her hair; there’s normalcy in this exchange, and selfishly, he doesn’t want to spoil it. In a manner most selfish, most weak, most unlike him, he wants this chance at pretending he is what he is supposed to be, even if he knows having to take this chance at all says a lot of what he has let himself become.

“Rest well.”

She answers only with a soft little hum as she adjusts in the bedroll, one arm folded underneath her head and the other bringing the blanket closer, tucking it under her chin.

Rook closes her eyes and falls asleep turned towards the fire, and Lucanis realizes he had spent too long watching the little lights from the flames dance on her skin when he’s startled by Spite. The demon was previously crouching somewhere at Rook’s back, attempting to read the symbols on the building’s half-demolished walls, but now he slowly creeps up behind Rook, seeming more like an animal stalking its prey than anything remotely human as he crouches down until he can get his face -a mimicry of Lucanis’ but twisted in some sneering satisfaction, some cruel curiosity- in Lucanis’ field of vision.

Though he’s startled by the demon’s silent movements and how uncannily inhuman they are even when Spite takes the form of Lucanis himself, what unsettles him most is that it is not Rook that Spite seems to have made into prey or enemy, as he would have dreaded but expected, but him.

Spite says nothing. Lucanis turns away, grabs at the cloth and oil and gets started methodically cleaning the mageknife entrusted to him. Spite says nothing, and demons don’t need to breathe nor know discomfort, so Spite doesn’t move either.

He resists the urge to ask Spite what it is that he is thinking, if only to try and predict him, guard himself and others against whatever the demon might attempt, but he refuses to give Spite the satisfaction of knowing he has unnerved him.

So, he endures the persistent glare of a demon that insists on taking his own form staring at him for hours, never moving from where he crouches at Rook’s back like a bird of prey guarding its nest, never taking his vacant eyes off Lucanis.

It is Spite that notices first when Rook starts to wake up, because Lucanis pretends he isn’t aware of the small change of her breathing and the muffled little whine she makes when she realizes she ought to wake herself up.

They exchange a few words, she checks up on him and asks if anything happened while she slept; and while Rook gets up from the small bedroll and stretches in front of the fire, Lucanis notices Spite on the corner of his eye, still unnervingly still.

The demon only moves when Rook moves to sit against the wall beside Lucanis, stretching her legs towards the now-quieter fire. Spite pointedly moves to sit -pretend to sit, Lucanis knows that the demon cannot actually interact with the world around him- on her other side.

“I had never seen so many stars.” Rook admits, a breathy tone to her voice as she cranes her head back and admires the countless stars dotting the night sky.

If she’s aware of the demon lingering close to her -if he even is close to her, and not merely a…a figment of Lucanis’ imagination, a representation of Spite’s wants, he has no idea how this works-, she makes no note of it, big eyes set on the skies above and uncaring that the demon comes awfully close, vacant eyes studying her with concerning intensity.

Lucanis turns his gaze to the skies above them, to the thousands of stars scattered in the dark sky, glittering in different shades of silver and white. Some of them seem almost blue, almost violet, and he has the errant impulse to compare them to the hue that clings to Rook’s magic, that tinges every summoned strike of lightning.

“The stars back home are much duller.” She mentions, so quiet the wind could carry it, almost a thought spoken out loud.

“You can see plenty of them in Salle,” He argues, though he will admit even Antiva’s darkest night sky cannot show this many stars. Because since first meeting her -whichever first meeting he decides to count- he has never found himself without a question he wants to ask her, he prompts, “Did you ever live in Salle? I know Viago did.”

It is selfish, not to mention entirely too forward, to wish to know things like these. To wish to hear her speak of things like these. But the home he left behind over a year ago feels a little more real, a little bit more like something he can one day return to, when Rook speaks of it. So he asks even though he knows the answer, when she speaks of the world past the timeless Lighthouse he prompts her to continue, and when she gives away an echo of home he listens.

“Not for long. A little over two years, after Drusilla picked up her second stray,” There’s enough warmth in her words to tell him she speaks of Viago, even if this only further proves that she assumes Lucanis knows more about her history with the Fifth Talon than he actually does. Rook often downplays her importance to Viago and thus ignores how viciously he has kept most things about her a secret; or perhaps she simply is unaware of the extents to which her Talon has gone to in order to keep her away from the rest of the Crows since her mother’s death. Rook continues, “I haven’t been back in years, though. I think the last time I was there was when Vi became Fifth Talon.”

“And Drusilla’s funeral, right?”

“You know Viago, if we were going to gather a bunch of Crows in one place, might as well get everything done and over with,” She says, “For all his grumbling, he was a good host.”

“Yes, he was. I was…I was there,” He doesn’t know why he feels as if it is wrong to say this, as if somehow she hadn’t known and this is a revelation. He doesn’t know why a knot forms in his stomach, or what to do with the realization that reminding her of this will only draw attention to all that has changed, all that he has changed. Still, he continues, “Caterina summoned Illario and I from Rialto so we could go with her to pay our respects.”

He doesn’t tell her that his grandmother kept an incredibly close eye on the de Riva villa in Salle since the Fifth Talon died and her only daughter fled Treviso to find the bastard son of the King, that when he and Illario were summoned they were warned of the now-Talon’s ambition and the tempest in waiting that he kept close as if she were his own blood, that most Talons distrusted her mother and as a result were always wary of this child Drusilla raised as her own -surrounded by Crows, in the heart of Treviso- but that wasn’t formally trained as a Crow until much later in her life.

He thinks she already knows how on edge every Crow that attended the gatherings for the late and emergent Fifth Talon was, how closely everyone was looking for the slightest provocation to neutralize a threat. He thinks she knew already then, and yet he still remembers how brazenly honest her every smile and every word seemed, he still remembers how she contradicted every expectation they had had of Drusilla’s carefully hidden spellblade. It was no doubt a mask, as she probably was aware she couldn’t afford her mother’s harshness or Viago’s coldness; and perhaps Lucanis was too young then, or her strategy too unfamiliar, but he believed her.

And he thinks of the sound of her laughter as Neve shares a story with her and Bellara as he prepares dinner, of the comforting lull to her voice as she offers Harding advice on how to deal with her nightmares, or the way the consonants are a little rougher on her tongue when she is tired and doesn’t bother hiding her accent; and it is unfamiliar and perplexing, this irrational urge he feels to fight his every instinct and believe she is honest in her warmth and kindness now, even if she wasn’t once.

Rook returns her gaze back to the world around them instead of the skies, turning towards Lucanis, soft smile pulling at the corners of her lips with an ease, an honesty, that hasn’t yet ceased to amaze him.

“I remember.”

(So do you. Tell her!)

The demon’s demand startles him more than it should. For a moment, a breath, he was on an estate atop a hill in Salle and he had just heard her laugh for the first time. For a moment, a breath, things were as they might have been.

He feels Spite now, prodding at his thoughts, trying to find memories to tear to pieces, to taint, to sully. Ever since he was forced onto Lucanis’ body, Spite has justified the painful incursions into memories both soft and jagged with the argument that this world to him is contradictorily sharp and blurred, and seeing it through Lucanis’ eyes helps the demon make sense of it all.

And now Spite has caught a scent, and is trying to pry into vague memories of a chance meeting nearly a decade ago, distant visions of a woman he last saw in Neromenian nearly two years ago even though she didn’t see him; and Lucanis refuses to let the demon close to them.

Because the longer he lingers on the warmth of Rook’s smile, on the thousands of questions lingering begging to be asked, Spite just seems to grow more and more agitated, louder, more demanding, Lucanis turns away. He turns to face the stars instead.

“Still, Salle’s sky has nothing on this,” Rook argues, and Lucanis cannot disagree. The glimpses he caught of Salle’s night sky were in passing, a quick scan over unfamiliar rooftops to check for threats, a sigh and a glance at a dark sky as he asked the Maker for patience as Illario left him behind to chase after an unfamiliar Crow revealing entirely too much skin. Rook gestures with her hand, the back of her fingers tapping lightly against the outside of Lucanis’ thigh as she calls for his attention and quips, “You can’t tell Viago I said that.”

A short chuckle leaves his lips, and he acquiesces with a bow of his head.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

Rook motions her thanks with a bow of her own head, a glint of humor in her eyes, before her attention returns to the stars.

She takes a breath that leaves her in almost a sigh, and says,

“In the South you can see the scar the Breach left in the sky. Have you seen it?”

“I can’t say I have ever paid much attention to it.”

He cannot help but think it a deficiency, a fault, that he never bothered with such things. It is irrational, he knows, but he resents not ever averting his gaze from the task at hand for only a moment, if only to gather stories to one day tell her, if only to have something to offer her now other than questions.

“It’s always there. A soft glow, rippling, like you’re seeing it from a reflection in water. At night, it’s even more noticeable,” She recalls, absent curve of her lips as if through memories alone she is seeing the flickering lights of the Breach’s remnant on the sky above them. “It’s…beautiful, in its own way. If you forget the hordes of demons and the religious fanatics the Breach caused, you can even say the scar was worth the wound.”

“I’d…have to see it to believe that.”

He doesn’t tell her that he is inclined to believe it only by the awe in her voice when she speaks of it, that he cannot imagine anything that makes her smile like that is anything short of striking.

“Viago and I were in Orlais when the Breach was opened, you know. Val Chevin, for a contract on a duke and his mistress,” She recalls. Lucanis’ head lolls to the side to watch her profile as she recounts her story, her eyes bright and still set on the stars. “Well, Vi was there for the contract, I was just the stowaway. I wasn’t even formally training yet. In my defense, I was happily sampling fine wine in Val Royeaux and he went to see me since he was in Orlais, so it’s his fault. He should have known I would tag along.”

He had always believed her value to Viago as a Crow under his command and as a vestige of Drusilla’s influence was the reason for how protective he is of her, for how blatantly he displays his weakness for her. It is strange, it feels out of place, to think that long before they formally belonged to one House they thought of one another as family. But Lucanis is almost certain that says more about himself than either Viago or Rook.

“Did you…tag along often?”

“It wasn’t often that he knew I was tagging along,” She admits, before gesturing lazily with her hand and adding, “You cannot tell him that either.”

“He probably knew.”

The glint in her eye then, the way her smile widens with something youthful speaks of memories she doesn’t share and thoughts she doesn’t voice, but Rook nods once in agreement and turns to the stars again.

“Anyhow, we were on a boat headed back home from Orlais when the sky was torn open,” Her smile softens a bit, and she shakes her head with a breathed little chuckle, as if she cannot believe that is a story she gets to tell, that the madness of the Breach is something she survived to remember. “The city fell into chaos. No one knew what was happening, people were running and screaming. So, naturally, Viago handed me a knife.”

The helpless little gesture she makes with her hands, and the abruptness of her anecdote, make a bark of laughter escape Lucanis’ lips.

“What?”

Rook turns to him and shrugs her shoulders.

“He just…handed me a knife. This…thing was on the sky, growing wider by the second, and then we heard this rumbling, like thunder. It sounded like the mountains were waking up,” Her words are trembling slightly with the threat of laughter, the quiet joy of her smile clinging to the sound of her voice. “And Viago just pulled out a knife and put it in my hand, like it would do anything against the end of the world.”

They exchange stories and questions as they pick at the pumpkin bread Bellara made in her latest attempt to get Rook to admit to enjoying food from Tevinter, and mercifully the questions she asks are of the familiar, of jobs and targets, and there’s not much room to feel the sting of deficiency, the anxiety at falling short.

He tells her of the many jobs that dragged on for months on end in Tevinter, she tells him of the time Viago had her thread through Seheron to kill a single qunari. She asks what being trained by Caterina was like and in exchange he asks what happened to the Templars that marched into Treviso to take the de Riva mage to a Circle. He tells her it was torture but that he cannot bring himself to resent his grandmother any longer, she tells him the first man she killed with a blade made the mistake of casting Silence.

A few comfortable silences are scattered between their conversations, though Spite has disrupted them -thankfully only in Lucanis’ mind, as the demon hasn’t caught him by surprise for long enough to wrestle control of the body away from Lucanis and speak aloud- with strange observations and mutters.

Spite lingers close now, he can feel him, prodding at his mind, trying to find an exposed nerve, trying to distract him, make him falter.

(Rook. Smells happier here. Jasmine. And…)

It is unlike the demon to hesitate, and it piques Lucanis’ curiosity, so, remembering a previous assessment Spite made of Rook’s scent, he provides,

Ozone?

Spite is quick to dismiss his attempt,

(No. No magic.)

(Something else. Sharp. Blood, but. On lilies? Rotten.)

There seems to be genuine confusion in the demon’s assessment of that scent that clings to Rook, but Lucanis recognizes it, and so the clarification leaves his lips before he can think twice about it.

“Felandaris.”

He feels the weight of Rook’s gaze on him again in an instant, and resists the urge to make a face at the realization that he spoke the word aloud. It is difficult, sometimes, to remind himself that Spite isn’t really there, that while Lucanis might hear him as if he were there, when he answers in the same manner, people only hear him talking to himself like a madman.

There’s a small furrow between Rook’s brows, and she prompts, “Huh?”

“Uh, Spite had a question.”

The elf sits up, folding one leg underneath her, stars forgotten.

“Oh, is it about poison? Felandaris isn’t good for much else,” She asks, with more enthusiasm than he expected. More than she intended to show, it seems, because Rook chuckles and adds, almost sheepish, “You don’t spend a lifetime alongside Viago without picking up some of his…enthusiasm for the craft.”

Any question that might be about to leave his lips, any normal response he might once have been able to give, are lost in the struggle for control against Spite’s unbridled fervor at Rook’s words.

(I have. Questions.)

No.

(Let me. Talk. To her!)

Resisting the urge to shake his head against Spite’s constant barrages against his control, Lucanis lets out a clipped breath and tries offering her an out.

“You don’t have to indulge him.”

“I don’t mind,” She says. “He’s stuck in this world, it makes sense he has questions about it.”

(My turn. To talk. To Rook.)

No. You tell me what you want me to ask her, and I’ll see if we ask it or not.

(She. Doesn’t mind.)

Take it or leave it.

He feels Spite’s vacant eyes glaring at him, and after a breath Lucanis concedes and turns to look at the uncanny mirror of Lucanis that the demon chooses to show himself as. He tilts his head to the side and Spite mimics him, defiant, but after a few moments he seems to understand Lucanis willingly giving him control of his body isn’t going to happen, so he turns away from him and moves to sit on the ground.

Spite crosses his legs underneath himself as he sits besides Rook, clearly mimicking her stance, and Lucanis doesn’t know what to make of that, of the demon’s clear fascination with the other Crow.

Spite refuses to even look Lucanis’ way, vacant gaze intent on Rook, and Lucanis has the errant complaint that it seems the demon is willing to listen to her more than he does his host, that he displays none of this calm eagerness when Lucanis is trying to explain something.

(Why Felandaris? Blood and lilies. Not Rook.)

“He wants to know why…” He tries to find a way to voice this that doesn’t sound so…odd, but cannot find any. With a sigh, Lucanis relents, and asks, “Why you smell like Felandaris.”

Rook doesn’t seem fazed by the strangeness of the question, which seems to delight Spite. She reaches back for one of the pouches on the discarded outer layer of her armor and pulls out a tiny flask of oil. It shimmers slightly in the moonlight, a deep amber in color.

“Felandaris and deepstalker spit, mainly,” She lists out. “A hallucinogenic and a mild paralytic agent. Makes sense that you only smelled the Felandaris, since Deepstalkers are mostly odorless.”

(Felandaris. Is new. Why?)

“You haven’t used Felandaris in your poisons before. Why now?”

“The Veil weakens near whoever is poisoned by it. It would make them vulnerable to my magic and to you, Spite. To the both of you,” She gestures with her hand towards Lucanis, before amending with another gesture, “Potentially. I haven’t really tested that last part yet.”

He isn’t exactly sure what to make of her quick acceptance of Spite and how the demon’s connection to the Fade influences Lucanis’ abilities, and even if he tried he couldn’t voice the conflict within him of the apprehension that fills Lucanis and the delight that Spite tries forcing onto his mind; so instead Lucanis lets silence linger once again.

But in the quiet of this place, with silence not made heavier by the vast expanse of the Lighthouse but instead made more comforting by the crackling of fire and the calm cadence of Rook’s breaths, it is harder for Lucanis to ignore his body’s demands for rest.

It is easier to force himself to stay awake when in the Lighthouse, because as maddening as that place is for accounting the passing of time and providing structure to his routine, the constant daylight tricks his body into staying awake for longer, into avoiding deep sleep.

It isn’t so easy here, where the sun actually sets and the night carries a chill that the fire chases away, providing a warmth that tries to lure him into letting his body rest. And Spite quietens around Rook in a way that if he thinks about for too long will make dread rise like a void within his chest, so he cannot even count on the demon and his glee at the prospect of gaining control while Lucanis sleeps to force himself into alertness again.

He has felt the effects of his struggle against Spite on his body, in the Lighthouse and anywhere else he has been in since the Ossuary, but he has learned to live with it -with the near-constant headaches, the strange aches in his joints, the unnerving faltering in his balance-, he was made to endure much worse than this and he will. What he hasn’t felt until now, what he has been able to ignore, to push down, is how utterly tired he is.

He hasn’t truly slept in over a year, since before…before. The reprieve that unconsciousness provided from Zara and her underlings' games wasn’t ever enough, as Lucanis resisted his body’s urge to give in every time, forced himself to stay awake even if all he managed was focusing his eyes on the red lyrium crystal hovering over them and thinking of nothing. Even when they left him alone, pretended to forget about him for weeks on end in a cage in some corner of the prison, and Spite -warbled sounds, inhuman sounding even in Lucanis’ own head, then, before the demon learned to talk how humans do- promised him he’d keep watch, Lucanis held strong, spine ramrod straight and hands curled around the bars of the cage until his fingers couldn’t move even if he wanted them to.

And now, with a new place to call home -at least for now, and if he’s honest it is a welcome change when even the Ossuary hasn’t let him forget how much like a tomb the Dellamorte estate still feels-, with new people to protect, to care for, he refuses to sleep still.

Spite’s demands and the threat that he will take over whenever he lowers his guard keep him awake out of fear but also shame. Spite wants to talk to Rook, he wants to see the wisps in Neve’s room, Rook brought new ingredients for poison and he has questions, he wants to go watch the reflections from the mirrors in Bellara’s room, Rook is training and she does it differently than Lucanis so he wants to go see. It is maddening, and endless, but the mere thought of indulging in the demon’s whims or failing to stop him brings forth a sense of shame, of indignity, that reminds him all-too-well of the time Caterina heard him beg the kitchen staff for food. Such lack of control is unlike him, such weakness is beneath him. He knows better, he is better.

But he is tired. Tired of the way that what once was familiar is strange now, ground giving in under his feet even on well-treaded paths -the merchant’s smile is welcoming and familiar as they greet him, and there’s routine in the bow of fledglings’ heads and the greetings of Master Lucanis as he walks through the Diamond, but he cannot help the instinct, the voice older and more insidious than Spite’s that prods and wonders if he had accidentally let slip his next location the last time he saw them, if somehow they were aware of where that boat was taking him-, tired of how even what is new is grating, a too warm touch on frostbitten skin –Rook’s smile and the warm tilt of her voice when she greets him with a simple Lucanis aren’t a lie, he knows, he knows, but a part of him that he wishes he could credit to Spite taunts him and tells him there's no safety in this, and he sometimes cannot argue with it-.

He is tired, tired of all of it. Of the room he has made his own that is at once entirely too small to breathe in and too big to keep under his control, of the ways in which he has had to adapt his training because even his body isn’t what it was, of the way it is with more than disgust that his stomach flips whenever he feels a mage draw upon blood magic.

He is tired, tired of all the reminders of what he let them take from him in that prison, of what he let them turn him into. He is tired.

And now try as he might to force his gaze to focus, his vision blurs and it gets harder to force his eyes open after every blink, and though he is almost screaming inside his head to stay alert, it is hard to remember why he should.

He is one breath away from hooking his thumb into his palm and squeezing his hand into a fist so that the pain might make him alert again when, as if she had read his mind, as if she somehow knew, Rook turns her head to look at him and says,

“You should sleep, not listen to me ramble about the skies of Thedas.”

Instead of saying something stupid, like that he likes listening to her talk, Lucanis clears his throat and admits,

“It’s alright. I won’t sleep tonight.”

“Hey, Viago trusts me to keep watch. Viago,” She stresses, “Do you have any idea what that means?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust, Rook,” Lucanis promises, before admitting, “Spite is stronger when I sleep.”

“I feel like there must be a better solution than just…not sleeping.”

“There is: getting rid of him,” He answers, and as expected, Spite is quick to make himself known again, (You can’t. You can’t even. Get! Out!). Lucanis grits his teeth, refusing to give the demon the satisfaction of a rebuttal. Instead, he chooses to promise, “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She furrows her lips, and when she takes a breath to speak, she clicks her tongue slightly. He wonders if she is aware of how uncannily alike Viago’s own tells of concealed frustration her gestures are.

“Your call,” She concedes, leaning back against the half-destroyed wall and fixing how the blanket lays over her legs. “Even if you don’t plan on sleeping, it can’t be comfortable staying in full armor the entire night. It’s safe here, we’ll see coming anyone stupid enough to try and attack.”

“And you placed magical traps on the chokepoints leading here.”

“Right. Mage-killer,” She chuckles. “I should stop forgetting that.”

He feels a smile tugging at his lips at her words, and moves to undo the clasps by his neck and shoulders that secure the cloak to the rest of his armor. It takes a moment longer than it should, and something tightens in Lucanis’ stomach when he notices the faint tremble of his hands that complicates such a simple task. He tells himself that it will pass, that it is nothing.

It is only when the cold air that lingers despite the fire grazes the newly exposed skin of his neck that he realizes how even such a small change is an opening he should know better than to give, a possibility for an attack he was trained not to allow.

Not an hour ago Rook was brandishing a vial of poison, explaining her reasoning behind the ingredients with an ease only members of her House, namely her Talon, possess; and as he feels the cold air of a desert night hit the back of his neck he realizes he hadn’t even considered the few movements she would have to make in order to graze the newly-exposed skin with a poisoned blade before deciding to bare said skin.

Out of the corner of his eye he notices Rook lean forward towards the roaring fire to fix the position of one of the logs, and he notices not only the exposed skin of her arm but the long line of her neck, exposed to any attempts on her life Lucanis could choose to make.

He realizes then, how deliberate her choices in clothing back at the Lighthouse have been. A few buttons undone off the top of her shirt, rolled up sleeves, her hair pulled up to reveal her neck. They are all clear openings for any half-decent killer, not to mention any of the people she has brought into the Fade with her, Lucanis included.

One of the first lessons he remembers learning was on an enemy’s openings. He remembers it well enough that he can still recall the ringing in his head from the hit that sent him to the ground after he mistook his trainer’s bait for a chance to win.

Illario learned quite young to distract his enemies into making a mistake. A well-placed touch, a smile, to bait them into lowering their guard. If that fails, his cousin is willing to feign an injury, pretend an enemy’s attack unbalanced him more than it truly did, in order to get them to act rashly, to make mistakes.

He has seen Rook do the same in battle, feign a stumble to goad a Venatori to come closer only to sneak a knife made of raw magic between their ribs, pretend to catch her breath with one knee on the ground so that an Antaam charges to deliver the finishing blow and she can take advantage of the reckless movement to send lightning into his bloodstream.

For what is now shamefully a long amount of time, Lucanis thought her choices of clothing something similar. A dare, a display of strength, a bared throat to dare anyone to try and attack. He hadn’t considered it could have been a proof of trust instead.

And he wonders now if he can offer the same.

(Rook. Won’t. Hurt us.)

For once, Spite’s sudden words don’t startle him, and he resists the urge to turn to look at him, to see if any of the almost-calm in the harsh voice of the demon is betrayed in his expression, if anything changes in the vacant light of his eyes when he speaks of her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Spite’s head tilt to the side, not unlike a dog hearing an unfamiliar sound, as he watches her. The demon’s next words sound almost confused,

(She can. She won’t.)

If Spite is expecting Lucanis to provide an explanation he will be sorely disappointed, because Lucanis will admit he doesn’t fully understand it, understand her, either.

He’s seen her cut through their enemies, from a Venatori ambusher to an Antaam brute, with impressive ease; he is certain even if she couldn’t kill Lucanis she could definitely make it hurt; he knew of her former Talon and knows the current one, so he knows she is well learned in inflicting pain. And while he knows she won’t hurt him, and he knows, he knows, that Spite’s earlier taunts of how suspicious it is that she isn’t willing to see him in pain when everyone else does are wrong and merely the demon’s attempt to get further into his head; he cannot help the instincts that often demand he defends himself against a threat he cannot sense but surely is coming, the irrational wish that his worst thoughts about his new companions, about her, were proven right if only for the expectation, the tension, to give way.

Again Spite’s words reach him, but this time they sound more like an errant thought, like an absent observation, than anything said intentionally,

(Rook. Answers my questions.)

He takes a breath, and turns his left hand upwards to reach the lacing that runs through the underside of his bracers, intersected cords threaded together that he adjusted to the necessary tightness this morning. He reaches to undo the knot keeping them together, gritting his teeth at the faint tremble that once again makes it difficult. His hand keeps trembling, no matter how strongly he wills it to steady.

It is the third time his trembling fingers fail to grasp properly at the cord threaded through the metal hoop of his left bracer that he feels his breathing quicken, his heartbeat start to pound in his ears. Entirely too alike a target’s response when they realize Lucanis is after them. Entirely too alike prey.

Focus, damn it.

He tries again, and again, and his grip isn’t precise enough, his hold slips, his hands are too unstable to manage such a simple task.

(This is. Your fault.)

Spite’s will surges, anger and something Lucanis doesn’t have a name for fueling the demon’s attempt to steal control of his body away from him. With a sharp breath through his nose and his own flare of anger, Lucanis refuses him again.

(You fight me. Not them.)

He refuses to answer, he refuses to acknowledge him, deciding to ignore him until he quietens again. He just needs Spite to be quiet, and his head to stop pounding, and his hands to stop fucking trembling.

(You fight. And keep me. Locked away!)

“Your hands are trembling.”

Rook’s observation is a simple one, laced with confusion and perhaps a hint of worry, and the warmth in her voice when pointing out such thing isn’t familiar but the shame and dread that come with being witnessed like this are.

He cannot find words to answer her with, and in the silence that stretches thin between them, in the rush of his heartbeat in his own ears, he hears echoes of a voice that brought a humiliating kind of fear to his heart whenever he heard it approaching his cell,

There’s no point, you know.

And Zara’s echo repeats words she taunted him with many times before, but being able to look at nothing but the armor that he cannot remove and the faint trembling of his hands that he cannot hide, now more than ever the words feel true,

Nothing awaits you anymore. You’re long dead.

(She will. Be right! If you. Don’t. Get out!)

Spite’s voice reverberates in his head, his attempts to make Lucanis obey his commands feeling like sharp hits to his chest, forcing air out of lungs that aren’t yet ready to relent precious air.

(You promised! Get out!)

His eyes are trained on the intersected cords of the bracer, and he wants to try again, to reach for the lacing again and try, and succeed. He wants to try again, he needs to try again, but Spite prods and shoves and demands, and it’s all he can do to struggle for control -control he doesn’t have, who is he fooling, he attempts to control a demon yet he cannot even make his own hands obey him-, gritting his teeth.

(Get out! Get out!)

The demon grows more and more agitated, desperate. His head feels as if it is about to be split in two, his chest pinned under the weight of all that he let them do, all that they took, all that he failed, and he can’t…

(Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout)

“Enough!” The snarled order seems to resonate in the nothingness that surrounds them, too loud in his own ears and at the same time too easily drowned out by the crushing silence of this place.

To his surprise, Spite relents.

Lucanis ceases in the pointless attempts to remove the piece of armor with a breath that resonates in his head like the dying rattle of a target whose throat collapsed under his grip, his hands dropping to his lap with the defeated slump of a body giving up a fight when cold steel runs across a fragile neck.

The silence that follows this small defeat feels oppressive, like the faint but constant reverberations of the weight of a whole ocean atop a prison.

This place is quiet, nothing but a faint crackling of dying flames and the beating of his own heart in his ears, and try as he might to hear something else -something that doesn’t remind him of that place, something that doesn’t make the last few weeks feel like a well-manufactured hallucination, something that doesn’t make him feel as if he’s still strapped to that table while blood magic ravages what was left of his body still in his own control- he can hear nothing.

Because he knows nothing else, he brings a trembling hand to his inner forearm and tries again. Because even if he isn’t anything else, he is this.

The rustling of clothing, and he turns sharply to the side, a breath he couldn’t control in time entering his lungs too loudly, giving away too much. Rook now sits right beside him, eyes on him with none of the pity he expected, none of the disgust or dissapointment he deserves.

She just folds her legs underneath her and extends a hand,

“I can do it.”

To have failed like this, to have let her see him like this…he cannot help but think it a defeat, a loss of something he foolishly believed he could keep.

He told himself he would perform as was expected of him, be what he is supposed to be -what he was, he reminds himself, but it is harder to remember a time he didn’t feel a fraud-. He told himself he was better than this.

He also told himself, once, that he wouldn’t give the Venatori the satisfaction of hearing him scream but the agony they inflicted upon his body clawed its way out of his throat eventually, that he wouldn’t fall for their tricks but they used blood magic to put Illario’s face on a corpse they threw at his feet and even after leaving that place sometimes this dread and grief fill him, that he would leave that place and return home but he isn’t sure he did leave it at all sometimes and home is still there but he isn’t sure he is.

A slight movement, a faint wiggle of Rook’s fingers halfway between encouraging and impatient, as she holds her outstretched hand between them, palm up. Deliberate. Expectant.

(Safe.)

To think of accepting, it feels like failure, it feels like reprieve. Like fear, like hope.

He puts his hand on hers.

Rook turns his hand with gentleness but no hesitancy, deft fingers quickly starting to make work of the lacing.

“I trust your judgement,” She starts. “So if you tell me I shouldn’t worry, I won’t. But I want to help if I can, Lucanis.”

He didn’t realize his breaths were stilled until he takes in air in order to answer.

“It’s…” He should dismiss the concern, grit his teeth and close his hand into a fist and remind her -remind himself also, perhaps- that it is his problem to solve, that he will fix it without causing trouble. But his gaze lingers on Rook, on her downturned gaze as she focuses on her task, his eyes trailing over the shade her lashes cast on her skin, the curve of her nose, lingering on that almost imperceptible furrow of her lips, and Lucanis hesitates. Her hands are still holding gently onto his own, one of her hands underneath his, holding his arm -palm up, vulnerable, expectant-, as her other hand works at the fastenings of his bracer, and Lucanis gives in, “It’s…because of Spite.”

“Oh?” Big eyes lift to meet his, momentarily distracted from her work, and the weight of her gaze, of the warmth and certainty that she always gives away with her eyes alone, is enough to make him turn away.

“He has been…a problem, as of late. I try not to sleep, to keep him from overpowering me, but it has it’s consequences,” He admits. He feels somewhere in the back of his mind echoes of the same protests the demon voiced before. He ignores him, and adds, “I-…this will pass, this isn’t-…I can still work, I’m not…affected in any way that will compromise my efficiency.”

“I don’t doubt that, Lucanis,” She promises, but something like sadness seems to cling to her voice. She has finished with the piece of armor in his left arm, and discards it to the side, silently requesting his other hand. He obliges, and the weight of shame feels a little lighter this time. She starts working, repeating the same process as before. A breath, and Rook quips, “So it’s the eleven cups of coffee a day, then?”

A laugh is almost startled out of his chest, but all that he manages is an exhale that in another life might have been a chuckle. The pitiful attempt at laughter still makes Rook’s shoulders drop slightly, like Bellara’s giggles do, like Neve’s sighs, like Harding’s ringing laughter, as if whatever he is able to offer is somehow enough.

“Among other things.”

To his surprise, Rook smiles, and he could swear the breath that leaves her lips is relieved.

“I’ll admit, it’s-…well, it’s not good, but it’s far from the worst,” She admits, lowering her gaze to her work again, “I thought it was because of the Venatori, because of…well…”

It is unlike her to choose her words, so he provides, “Torture?”

“Any decent captor knows where to cut. A shallow cut to draw blood for blood magic, a single stab to bleed a victim out fast, a serrated blade to the right place and they can’t run,” She lists out, a momentary furrow of her nose that doesn’t linger enough for Lucanis to discern if it is born from disgust or anger. “Blood mages know better than most, I’d wager.”

The last of the lacings is undone, the pressure of the bracer giving way.

“The likes of Zara like to believe they won, like to gloat about their success,” He explains. He notices Spite pacing somewhere past the dying fire, and hears his angry hiss, (They Like. To break. To hurt. Cut pieces.). He ignores him, and focuses on explaining to Rook, “Doing something like that would have been an admission that she couldn’t defeat me fairly.”

Her face scrunches up in disagreement, or perhaps merely anger, he cannot be sure. Rook pulls the bracer off his arm with one hand, dropping it in her lap while her other hand still supports Lucanis’.

“Not much fairness with blood magic and a traitor giving her a chance to capture you, but I don’t expect sound logic from Venatori.” She states, tone clipped.

Her job is done, Lucanis knows he should move. It is beyond selfish, shamefully weak, but there’s solace here, in this small moment, and he doesn’t want to let go of it. So he doesn’t move.

To his surprise, neither does Rook. Even after her free hand discards the removed bracer off to the side, it returns to his arm, fingers dancing idly over the bare skin of his wrist.

“The Crows did it to my m-…to Drusilla, when she was in Velabanchel,” Her touch is delicate, featherlight, as if the gesture is thoughtless to her. He thinks of how easily she could summon the magic she wields in battle to her fingertips again, how easily a shot of lightning could follow the soft trail of her fingers over the inside of his wrist. Rook continues, her fingers trailing over a cut she imagines, a cut she knows how to make yet doesn’t, “Sliced right through the tendons, cauterized the wound so she wouldn’t bleed out, so it would heal wrong. She could never hold a knife properly again.”

Lucanis has the errant thought that it would be preferrable, the lightning and the pain, over whatever it is her touch is doing to him now, with its gentleness, with its lingering warmth. It feels like an admission of defeat, of having lost something he didn’t even know could be lost, that he struggles to understand why, with the knowledge of how to hurt, with ample opportunity to do so, Rook simply refuses to.

Perhaps he loses himself in his head too long and loses his chance to answer, perhaps she wasn’t expecting him to say anything at all, but Rook lifts her head to meet his eyes and lets go of his hand. Bereft of the touch of hers, it feels heavier. Colder.

“Thank you, Rook.” Even to his own ears it sounds more like an apology than gratitude.

Uncharacteristically, she hesitates for a fraction of a breath before answering. Her eyes jump between his for a moment before she leans and grabs at the mageknife resting on top of its sheath by the whetstone Lucanis sharpened it with earlier.

Holding the knife on one hand and his bracer on the other, Rook offers the piece of armor back to him. When he takes it, she offers a smile, wide and warm and hers.

He would like to blame it on Spite, but he knows it is something older, something born from endless days spent without food and barely any sleep, trailing the mark Caterina had set for him, studying a target -the cadence of their steps, the people they gravitated towards, the mistakes they made- until he found at least one sufficiently reliable weakness he could exploit; something resulting from stinging hits of a cane to the backs of his legs, the palms of his hands, if Caterina had set a test by changing something -a different shade in the curtains, a faded stain on the floor under the rug, a faint scent that isn’t familiar- in his room and he failed to notice; that makes him able to remember things with such clarity.

Lucanis remembers. He remembers every name Zara mentioned, even those said in passing, even those said only once. He vowed to find them, he made a deal, with the demon stuck in his head, with the man he was that he is sometimes certain died in that place, to see them all die by his hand.

He remembers every word his captors said, every insult spat in his direction, every taunt and every humiliation. He remembers the reason behind every new scar and the taste of the fear they managed to draw from him. He remembers each memory Zara’s Dreamer pulled from his unconscious mind and each corpse they dressed with an echo of home with their blood magic.

And he remembers Rook, and how jarring it was to see her in the Ossuary, how antithetical her presence in that place seemed even then. He remembers she was the first person to say his name in over a year and not make it sound like a call for a dog to heel, like a taunt or a reminder of his powerlessness in that place, like an insult, like fingers prodding at a wound. He remembers her standing slightly in front of Bellara as if to protect her -from the Venatori? From him? He isn’t sure he wants to know-, and the warmth in her voice even though her eyes were wide and she was gripping tightly onto the mageknife in her hand. He remembers her quick acquiescence to getting the blood the Venatori had used to control him and then joining him in taking down Calivan. He remembers her smile, wide and bright and a mirror of the one she offers now, and he remembers her words, I’m sure we’ll owe each other before this is all over.

So now he accepts the words she doesn’t say, and he doesn’t argue, even though he knows he should, feels he should, to her unspoken promise that they are even.

She moves to put her knife away by her belongings, and her eye catches on the vial of poison she left nearby after explaining her use of Felandaris to Spite.

“You said Spite…smelled the ingredients I used in poisons on me.”

The demon forgets any previous attempt at calm, but Lucanis was almost expecting the forceful attempt to wrestle control from him, so Spite scoffs in complaint but relents.

Lucanis’ brow furrows, but he answers anyways, “Yes.”

Rook offers a thoughtful hum and returns to where she was sitting by his side.

“Do you think he could…smell for the Warden? Follow the scent of the blight in his blood or something?”

“He’s not a bloodhound.”

But Spite cares not for any of Lucanis’ arguments, eager and forceful as he demands,

(I want. To try.)

There’s a taunting smile curving at Rook’s lips, eyes narrowed as she reminds him, “He helped you find your blood in the prison, and I very clearly remember you sniffing the air, Lucanis.”

(Rook wants. Us to try.)

He doesn’t know what to do with the realization that the demon quite unabashedly simply wants to please Rook.

“I…don’t think it will work,” He offers. He also doesn’t know what to do with the realization that Lucanis also quite unabashedly simply wants to please Rook, but before he can think twice about it, words are tripping past an eager tongue, “But we can try in the morning, if you want.”

Thank you for reading, it was really fun to write! I would love to know what you thought of this!

#lucanis x rook #lucanis dellamorte x rook #lucanis x f!rook #dav fanfic #rookanis #rook x lucanis #rookanis fic #lucanis fanfiction #lucanis fic #corvid-kore fics

24 notes · View notes

slothquisitor · 3 months ago

Text

Death is a Dialogue

Summary: In which Lucanis accompanies Rook to the Grand Necropolis and has a bad time. Eventual Rook/Lucanis. 3k.

Also on AO3.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucanis hates the Grand Necropolis.

It’s not just that it’s dark and creepy, though that certainly doesn’t help. His eyes seem to be constantly straining to see around the next corner, to scan for threats. There’s also a pervasive almost physical weight settling into his chest the deeper the lift descends. But that’s not the worst part. The worst part about the Necropolis is how utterly thin the veil is here. It reminds him of the Ossuary and makes the backs of his eyes itch. He’s tired enough it’s hard not to be on edge.

It’s clear that Rook is right at home here though. He doubts that she’s even aware she’s doing it, but the more she talks as they descend deeper into the Shrouded Halls, the more formal her tone gets. It’s a little bit amusing to consider that she’s been adjusting her tone for any period of time for them. He wonders which is more real to her now, which is the most authentic.

Rook patiently answers Bellara’s many questions about where she lived, what she studied, what it was like living in the Grand Necropolis. He cannot imagine anyone wanting to live in this gloom. But it’s clear from the way Rook talks that this is home for her in the same way Treviso is his. It’s also clear from the way she fidgets that she’s feeling some type of way about being back here. He’d ask about it, but he’s pretty sure she’d insist that she’s fine.

As they traverse the darkness, little blue wisps begin following them like strange bright jellyfish. “Uh…Rook?”

She glances at the slowly multiplying group that bobs in their wake and lets out an exasperated sigh. “Hi, hello. It’s good to see you all too.”

At her acknowledgment, the wisps seem to bounce even more brightly and press in closer on them. He steps away, gritting his teeth. He does not like spirits, even harmless wisps. He’s had quite enough of demons and spirits for a lifetime.

Rook steps between him and the wisps that dart about inquisitively. “I think Lucanis would prefer if you all gave him a bit more distance, please.”

Well, no wonder she keeps wanting to reason with Spite because the wisps seem to listen, bobbing with more purpose around her and largely leaving him alone. He throws her a grateful look.

“I’ve never seen so many wisps at once,” Bellara says, voice full of awe.

“This is nothing, you should see them during the Night of Fadeweaving,” Rook replies with a smile.

“Night of Fadeweaving?” he asks. If it’s a Nevarran celebration, he’s never heard of it.

She lets a wisp land lightly on her hand as if it’s a bird and not a Fade spirit. “Watcher holiday. Let’s keep moving.”

“They’re just going to follow us?” he asks. “Can’t you ask them to stop?”

“I think they’re fun. They’re a bit more lively than the ones in Neve’s office,” Bellara says.

Rook’s smile tightens at the mention of Neve. “It’s best to let the wisps do as they like. Besides, they might be helpful in ensuring we get where we’re meant to go, sometimes the rooms like to move.”

The rooms do what now?

“I hope the professor is here,” Bellara says as they keep moving. She’s moving carefully as if she is afraid of making too much noise. “And that he doesn’t mind us disturbing him. He is a senior necromancer…I don’t -”

They all pause as a skeletal construct ambles past them, a pickaxe raised. This isn’t the first construct they’ve seen while here, all of them have the same portion of their skulls missing, where the wisps seem to take up residence when raised. They do not move naturally, instead ambling about as though being puppeted by someone with a particularly shaky hand.

“Visitors!” A tall figure in Mourn Watch colors exclaims excitedly from behind a mask of skeletal necrotic magic.

“Too. Bright,” Spite complains, and Lucanis can’t help but agree. His eyes are itching and this all feels like a waste of hard work. Why do necromancers insist on raising the dead?

“What a marvelous surprise! Any trouble with the lift? Our last guests were stuck for hours, poor souls.” The figure dismisses his mask and smiles in Rook’s direction. “Miss Ingellvar, how wonderful it is to see you again. I see you have accumulated quite the welcoming retinue. You’ve been missed.”

Rook smiles and he notices some of the tension seeping away at the warmness of the welcome. “It’s good to see you too, Professor Volkarin.”

“Hello, Professor! We’ve never met, well in person, but I’ve been writing to you!” Bellara says, extending a hand.

“Bellara? My dear girl, what a pleasure! Surely you didn’t come all this way just to see me? And that must mean, you’re….Rook. I do beg your pardon, if I misstepped in my greeting to you.” The professor grasps Bellara’s hand in both of his own.

Rook shakes her head. “Either is fine, really. With present company, I tend to go by Rook. And this is Lucanis, of the Antivan Crows.”

Lucanis inclines his head but doesn’t move forward. “Nice to meet you.”

“A Crow, how exciting!” The professor seems genuinely thrilled to see them, but his gaze lingers a bit too long on him before turning his attention back to Rook and Bellara.

“He’s seen,” Spite hisses. Lucanis ignores him.

“We are actually here looking for you because you see, we need a Fade expert,” Bellara explains.

Then there is a distant piercing scream that cuts through the relatively peaceful moment, if one can ignore the flock of skeletons digging behind them. And Lucanis definitely isn’t.

The professor straightens his jacket and smiles winningly. “I’d be pleased to continue our conversation after I tend to some small business here. I must investigate.”

“A Watcher’s work is never done,” Rook replies with far too much enthusiasm and gestures down the hallway.

Lucanis almost wants to stay with Bellara especially after he hears that the rooms down here sometimes rearrange themselves, but Rook had specifically asked him to come. Being here, despite how much he hates it, feels like something a friend would do. That she’d sought support from a demon and an insomniac makes him question her judgment though.

He suspects she was worried about the way she might be treated by some Watchers upon returning home, but so far everyone has been more than polite. He wonders if there’s some Nevarran or Mourn Watch subtext he’s somehow missing, but he doesn’t think so. He knows what it’s like to be away from home for so long, and he wonders if she’s finding this place to be as she remembers it. Or like him, if going home just reminded him of the distance between who he is now and who he was. He could ask, but that seems like a question for the quiet of shared coffee and tea later, it surprises him how much the thought of that keeps him going through the gloom.

“Is this your first time back in the Necropolis since the uprising, Rook?”

She nods. “Yeah, hear they’re calling it the War of the Banners.”

“You know how these things go,” Emmrich says. “We Watchers do love the fanfare. Though, I must apologize for your treatment after the fact. If I had been here and not in the city, I would have done everything in my power to protest treating you so terribly after your years of exceptional service and scholarship.”

Lucanis has rarely seen Rook speechless, but it’s clear that this does it. She recovers, eventually. “I appreciate that, but it all worked out. If I’d never left, I would have never been on the radar of two blighted elven gods.” It’s a forced attempt at humor, but Lucanis tries to offer her a look of encouragement anyway.

“In the wake of your departure there were very many rumors surrounding you,” Emmrich says, words clearly picked carefully.

Rook sighs. “I bet there were.”

“I’d heard a particularly interesting one, but I’m not sure if you’ll find it distasteful.”

“Well, now you definitely have to tell me what it was.”

Emmrich’s face pinches. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought it up, but there were some insinuations that you were found here as a baby.”

Lucanis stops short, watching Rook as Emmrich asks the question, but then she only laughs.

“Oh, that’s all? Yeah, inside the Ingellvar crypt. Their whole line died out dragon hunting, so there was no one to protest me taking the last name.”

“I remember the day you were found, caused quite the stir amongst the Watchers.”

Lucanis glances between the two of them in horror. “Do you mean to tell me that you were a crypt baby? How does that even happen?”

Even in the gloom, Rook’s eyes are bright with mirth. “Well, you see, Lucanis, when two undead really love each other-”

He glares at her. “Not funny.”

She snorts. “Come now, it’s a little funny.” He and Rook have very different ideas of what constitutes funny.

Emmrich lets out a long-suffering and somewhat corrective sigh. “The peace of the Necropolis is a balm to the living and spirits alike.”

“Crowded,” Spite hisses.

“Must be nice,” Lucanis replies, rolling his eyes at Spite.

Emmrich looks at him directly then. “Ah, yes. I’ve noticed you’ve company.”

Mierda. “Oh?” He braces for the explanations and the arguments they’ll need to make, but Emmrich merely looks at him with compassion.

“A spirit of determination I believe?”

“Spite,” he and Spite correct in unison.

There’s a flash of magic further down the hallway, and Lucanis feels the telltale pain at the back of his eyes that tells him someone is using blood magic nearby. Rook glances at him in alarm.

“Venatori,” he growls.

“Down here? How?” Rook asks.

He stretches his neck and draws his daggers. “Maybe one of you can ask them, after we kill them.”

***

The Necropolis has always felt as though it was hers. Camina has always loved this place for everything that it is, and strangely, heartbreakingly, everything it isn’t.

As a child, she felt called to this place. She was caught so many times sneaking in that the Guardians knew her name and the crowded group home to take her back to without needing names or directions. But when she finally got to enter the place again, officially, passed into the care of tutelage of the other Mourn Watch mages, she’d been filled with a deep emotion she could only have described as homecoming.

She expected to be filled with that same emotion as she returned to the only place she’d ever called home, and she was flooded with a sense of familiarity, love even. She doesn’t know if something about this place has changed or if she has, but she keeps waiting for the sense of homecoming that never arrives.

Camina feels a strange sense of disconnection the further they delve into the Shrouded Halls. Everything around her is familiar, from the undead they’re fighting, to the smell of the halls, and even Professor Volkarin’s gentle explanations for Lucanis’s sake feel like she’s heard them once upon a time. Is she thirty-two or twenty-three? This moment feels like she’s somehow lived it before.

“I suppose that the displays of the Grand Necropolis must seem exotic to you, Lucanis,” Emmrich says as they make their way back up the levels of the Shrouded Halls.

“‘Exotic’ is not how I would describe your dead body collection,” Lucanis replies tersely.

Well, she supposes that not everything feels familiar. There’s also something about how clearly uncomfortable Lucanis is here that’s bothering her. She feels immediately guilty for having asked him to accompany her in the first place, and a little…hurt? Last night when he’d brought her tea and checked on her, she’d felt as though they had a connection or an understanding. There’s…something there.

But it feels kind of silly now and she’s filled with a familiar sort of embarrassment. It reminds her of those first days in the Necropolis, being introduced to the other mages. She’d been filled with so much genuine excitement, the carefree joy of youth. Finally, she was where she was meant to be. Finally, her magic had granted her entry somewhere she could belong. Not everyone was unkind, but it had still surprised her that there were always ways to divide up people, whether it was being an elf or coming from nothing, she was too often reminded of the ways she didn’t fit.

Emmrich shakes his head. “What’s so objectionable about a simple reanimation?”

“It’s a waste of hard work,” Lucanis replies. “I kill people so that they’ll stop talking, you bring them back to do that…with your corpse whispering.”

His attitude is annoying her and she doesn’t bother hiding it. “Well, you didn’t seem to object that much when my bone reading helped Treviso.” They’ve just fought a legion of Venatori and a horde of despair demons, she’s too tired for this.

Lucanis looks both sorry and a little embarrassed. “Rook…my apologies to you both, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“I appreciate the apology. I daresay both Rook and I are well-acquainted with the distrust of us and our art from those outside of Nevarra,” Emmrich replies. “‘Death is a dialogue between the spirit and the dust’, necromancy is one means of parsing it. I suppose your knives and daggers are another…just in the opposite direction.”

They’re scaling the last of the steps where they’d left Bellara, and Lucanis steps nearer to her, his voice lowered to a whisper. “Rook…I…”

“It’s fine.” She cuts him off with a shake of her head and hurries after Emmrich. What does it matter if he doesn’t understand her craft or the Necropolis when it doesn’t feel like hers anymore anyway?

As they crest the stairs, she sees Bellara in conversation with Myrna and Vorgoth and another familiar figure approaching them, a bow on her back and armed with a truly impressive number of daggers, present company included.

“The Venatori have been cleared out of the Sunken Tombs,” Willow Wächterin reports to the senior Watchers.

“Will?” she exclaims, hurrying up the last of the steps.

“Cam?”

And then she’s hugging one of her oldest friends who she hasn’t seen in too long. During the unrest, with Will being a Guardian of the Tomb they were stationed separately, and then of course, it’s been nearly a year since she left the Necropolis in the first place. Will looks the same as ever, her black hair tied up neatly in a long tail.

“It’s good to see you,” Will says as she pulls away. “Are you back? Tell me you’re back. We’ve got oneiric disruptions happening with startling frequency and then Venatori down here of all places. We need you.”

“I’m afraid that this is just a short visit today to consult with Emmrich, but hopefully I’ll be back around a bit more often going forward,” she says, glancing toward Myrna and Vorgoth for confirmation. It’s clear that Will’s attention snags when she mentions Emmrich, but she knows her friend better than to ask with an audience.

“A WATCHER HAS RETURNED,” Vorgoth says. That’s about as good as a welcome mat in her book.

“I should go do another sweep of the Bell, just in case,” Will says. “Let’s catch up soon?” It’s clear that she’s in a bit of a hurry, and Cam is a bit disappointed, but there are much bigger problems than simply wanting to catch up with her friend.

“Good hunting,” she says as Will stalks deeper into the Shrouded Halls.

“Should she be going alone?” Lucanis asks with concern.

“Will’s a Guardian of the Tomb, trust me when I say she’s fine,” Cam replies. Rarely mages, Guardians are selected and trained in certain rites only they can perform. Like anything in the Mourn Watch, Cam suspects it’s all shrouded in layers of mystery and tradition, but that’s the way it has always been.

“From what Rook has explained, there is great danger to the Fade,” Emmrich explains to Myrna and Vorgoth. “I simply must assist. Ah! Thank you, Manfred.”

A rather lively skeletal construct in old Watcher livery has shuffled over to their group, a tea tray in hand.

“Is this your assistant?” she asks. “Pleased to meet you, Manfred.”

Manfred hisses in reply, his green jeweled eyes shining.

“IT HAS BEEN MANY YEARS SINCE YOU LEFT US.”

Emmrich nods. “Well, yes, but elven gods? Ancient magics? I couldn’t bear to miss this! Besides, I’ve spent my life exploring the Fade and speaking to spirits. If Rook needs an expert, none are better qualified than I.”

“And it’ll be nice to have a fellow necromancer along to make everyone else nervous,” she says, unable to resist glancing at Lucanis who looks away uneasily.

The disappointment folds in on itself, and she buries it. She doesn’t have time to worry about his distrust of her magic or the Necropolis, not with cities being attacked by dragons. But still, some part of her is that young Watcher again, desperate for approval, acceptance, belonging. She should know better by now just how fleeting those things can be.

She straps her staff on her back. “We should get back to the Lighthouse.”

#lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #rookcanis #dragon age fanfiction #mourn watch rook #the watcher and the crow #lucanis x camina #slothquisitorwrites #rip to the mourn watch #they would have loved emily dickinson

30 notes · View notes

lightan117 · 4 months ago

Text

A Bloodbath of Crows

**This chapter took me forever to complete. I'm working on out-of-order chapters, so things have been a little chaotic. But here we have the Bloodbath Quest for Lucanis, so please read at your own peril!

Spoilers are below!

Warning: violence, blood, blood magic, dead bodies, necromancy, mentions past, Daisy losing her cool, some fluff,

Pairing: Lucanis x (F)Mourn Watch Rook

~oOo~

Fighting in a chantry, spilling blood on scared floors would have filled the devout with dread.

Thankfully, Daisy did not take such convictions seriously. Her trust remained with the dead.

Finding the venatori was simple enough, but now that they discovered Zara's location, Lucanis wasted no time in his quest for revenge. Taash looked at Daisy when Lucanis took the lead, but Daisy shook her head before whispering that they were mainly backups in case something went wrong. Lucanis had every right to kill the blood mage who took a year from him, who stuck him and spite together, who killed his grandmother.

Illario meeting them before they snuck into the chantry was strange, however. His words were flirtatious, smooth, and mainly aimed at Daisy rather than Lucanis. Lucanis spoke sternly at his cousin, saying that this fight was his alone and that Zara would taste his sword for all she did to him. Illario resorted to saying that it was Crow's business and that he should not go alone. "He's not alone, Illario; we're with him. He told you not to come." Daisy spoke up, and Illario's casual smile twitched the slightest.

Their fight target was holding their sadistic ritual in the chantry hall itself. Six guards, including the mage, blocked their way. Taash and Daisy killed the guards while Lucanis took care of the mage. Her taunts to Lucanis could be heard as they fell one by one.

"That was Porcia, Zara's favorite Dreamer and soothsayer. She used to come to the Ossuary to read bones. If she's here, so is Zara." Lucanis spoke as he pulled his blade from her corpse. Her followers were littering the ground around her. They were not that tough to kill, but it was still sad to see such life wasted on promises of power.

Thankfully, with some detective work, they found a secret passageway leading down into the dark. Under the chantry, there were a few venatori, but they were no match for their strength. Daisy did not like wading through whatever water flooded the room. It reminded her of something she had forgotten long ago, the dampness seeping into her bones as they walked the halls, allowing the rats to consume the fallen they had left behind. Lucanis's face was stern as he walked beside her, hands clenched around his sword and dagger. At the end of this, Lucanis would have one less burden to carry. His cousin will be safe.

"You! I will bring Lady Zara your beating hearts as a gift!" A shout was heard as they came into a courtyard. A venatori rogue was flanked by two blood mages, their attentions honed in as they rounded the corner.

"Faustus. He'd follow Zara around the prison like a sycophantic shadow." Lucanis muttered as he approached Daisy when where she was crouched down. The rouge blades came close to her face a few times, leaving her a little winded. "We're close. He won't be far from her side." Lucanis helped her up, giving her a once-over before moving on. Daisy could tell Lucanis was stressed; this was his moment of revenge. Deep down, she knew that if she got hurt Lucanis might come to her aid, but...he might also not.

Nonus and Decimus. The ninth and tenth. How original to give heavy-armed guards those names. Daisy wondered how the ones who came before were named. They understood that taking out the mage first was a bright idea. It also meant that Daisy spent half the fight dodging and avoiding their heavy attacks like Taash/Lucanis tried to pin them down. Nonus tripped Daisy, her back hitting the ground with a hard thud as she scrambled to move out of the incoming blow. His spear pierced the ground where her head had just moments ago, and then the shield drove down upon her. Her hand extended to the ground beside her, summoning her corrupted ground to affect the man above her. It did little to slow him down, the necrotic damage spreading fast through his body, but it was as if the man would not feel any pain at all.

Thankfully, Taash was there to drive their axes into his back, ripping him away from Daisy and across the courtyard. Lucanis was by her side momentarily, a hand gripping her bicep tightly to drag her to her feet. His eyes were ablaze with heat and anger, with a slight purple glow as they looked her over. Daisy gave a curt nod before they returned to the fray. Once the two were done and dead, Daisy breathed a sigh of relief. Lucanis, on the other hand, seemed more on edge than usual, his hand clenching and unclenching by his side as he looked around. Searching for something...

"What's wrong?"

Lucanis continued to look around before he turned his gaze to Daisy. Approaching her, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "We're close. I can feel someone using blood magic. A lot of blood magic."

"You can sense that? I thought you could sense all magic?"

"Only when it's intense. Blood magic makes the back of my eyes hurt." Lucanis answered her as they moved forward. They found a small library in the chantry, but Lucanis's suspicions about blood magic being used behind the door were correct. It scared Daisy when she witnessed what was behind it.

The smell was overwhelming.

Before they even opened the door, Taash and Lucanis commented, but it wasn't until they opened it that Daisy understood its intense power. Rotten flesh and decaying bodies lined the floor down the hall. Flies buzzed around them in swarms as maggots poured out of open holes. Daisy had smelled death before; it was customary for her with her profession. Death didn't bother her. What bothered her was how the bodies were discarded like trash. They were left where they fell or thrown without any care or sympathy. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at the poor souls that lay littered like they were nothing.

You are nothing, worse than nothing.

A voice echoed, and she shook her head to clear it. So many lost souls, so much pain and suffering. This needed to end, but now it was becoming a part of her. As a mourn watcher, she would not allow this to stand. All these people needed to rest and be put to rest where they belonged. Daisy felt something touch her shoulder, her head whipping to see Lucanis giving her a look. She shook her head and continued down the hallway. Whatever needed to be said at that moment could wait; this wasn't about her; it was about Lucanis and Zara. Taash gave Daisy a pat on the back as they continued. Behind the double doors, Zara was waiting for them.

In the largest pool of blood, Daisy had ever seen.

"Lucanis." Zara purred, arms moving about the crimson liquid seductively, making Daisy's skin crawl. "It's terribly uncivilized to drop in on a lady unannounced. Now the evening's ruined."

"It's over, Zara. You're going to pay for everything you've done. To Lucanis, the Crows, all those laying dead in the halls." Daisy spoke, her grip tightening on her staff, fingers tingling with magic as anger boiled within her. Seeing this woman in front of her, the wicked smile on her face, Daisy wanted to remove it. She wanted to get angry and explode but felt a voice behind her whispering that Zara would have the upper hand if she lost control.

Zara stood, covered in blood, without a stitch of clothing on. "Spoken like a true peasant. I'll drain you slowly, sweet thing." Zara released a blast of energy before pouncing upon them.

Fighting in a bathing pool of blood was not on Daisy's list of fights in which she would like to participate. It was challenging to move in, the liquid up to her knees, and it was difficult to tell where the floor was. Taash growled in annoyance when venatori showed up, their magic fueling the blood mages' own. Zara would absorb the blood around her, little by little, sending off waves of retcheded energy at them. Her scythes were another issue that Daisy was not a fan of. She would switch between Lucanis's and Daisy's attention before summoning more of her minions to keep their attention busy while she readied more magic to increase her power. Thankfully, the storm surge spell that she learned helped push back the bitch and her minions a few feet. Watching her hiss in anger at the purple crows around her is a plus.

Lucanis was fighting his own battles between Zara and looking out for Daisy. He knew Daisy could look after herself, but whenever Zara's attention shifted, it...worried him. Them. Spite was with him the entire time, his anger fueling Lucanis's own as he pushed himself. Zara was not going to live after that night. His muscles ached with every cut he made and every stab. All the torture that Zara inflicted on him, the sleepless nights, the starvation, the day he and Spite were thrown together, and the death of his grandmother, Zara would receive ten times the pain he felt. She would not touch anything living...

Of course, the blood was only good until the pool was dry.

Lucanis kicked Zara, her back meeting the stone column with a crash, sending her to the floor. She struggled to get up, knees shaking as she looked at her death. "So serious, Lucanis!" A pained smile was forced upon her face. "Why don't we talk? I can tell you much about the Venatori...and our pet Crows." Zara struggled to stand, clinging to the pillar for support.

Daisy could see Lucanis falter, shaking his head as a purple glow filtered into his eyes. Spite was talking to him, and Daisy could barely make out any sound. Emmrich was teaching her to listen and focus on hearing Spite, but it was hard to hear words. She'd heard spirits before, but Spite was different. "You want to know who betrayed you, don't you?" Daisy snapped her head to Zara at that. "Who sent you to the Ossuary?"

"Talk!" Lucanis demanded.

"I knew you were-" Zara was interrupted when Illario came down from the shadows, standing between Zara and Lucanis. Lucanis was just as surprised to see him, a look of concern appearing on his face. The idiot should have stayed away...

"I told you. This is Crow business." Illario answered before turning on Zara.

"Amatu-" Illario took a hold of Zara's neck, snapping it like a twig. No feeling, no hesitation, just a simple death. In Daisy's shock, she barely registered what happened, Zara's body hitting the flood with a wet thud before a screeching sound was heard. A blast of energy knocked everyone away from Lucanis, purple wings extending as Spite took control. Spite howled angrily as he launched himself at Illario, dagger drawn to strike. Illario was able to grip Lucanis's wrist just as the dragger was about to be brought down to his chest. Daisy could see that something was holding Spite back...Lucanis was holding Spite back with everything he had.

"Daisy! Get Illario out!" Lucanis's voice broke through, pain and tired. Purple eyes locked with her, but she knew it was Lucanis then, not Spite.

"What? No, we can-" Daisy got to her feet along with Taash, trying to move as quickly as possible.

"Please...I can't-" Lucanis begged before there was a sudden change. Illario shouted something that knocked Lucanis to the floor in a daze. Lucanis was breathing heavily as Illario got to his feet, a cold expression on his face. With an outstretched hand, Illario muttered relent, Lucanis falling back to the floor as if all his energy was gone.

"Rook, you-ugh!" Illario was thrown back a few feet as a force knocked him over. The Crow glared at the person who threw him, but he saw Daisy, her hand outstretched, and her green eyes glowed a cerulean color. Daisy ran over to Lucanis in a panic, with Taash on her heels.

"Lucanis! Lucanis, wake up!" She tried to shake him, but he was in a daze and did not answer. Her hands tapped his face to get his eyes to focus on her. "What did you do?!" Fear gripped her heart.

"Nothing!" Illario got to his feet. "I don't know what happened any better than you, and still you attack me?!"

"You used blood magic, you fool. I can sense it on you." Daisy accused him before standing to face the Crow head-on. Her eyes' glow grew brighter as she opened her palm, her staff flying quickly at her from where it lay on the floor beside Lucanis.

She tapped her staff to the floor twice.

It was silent for a long minute. Then there were groans. Illario watched in horror as the bodies of some of the Venatori sluggishly got to their feet. They moaned an ungodly sound as they walked towards them. Taash knelt next to Lucanis, watching with caution as the bodies ignored them and went to stand behind Daisy. White eyes stared into nothing, their hands twitched at their sides, and their jaws gaped. Blood and saliva were drooling down their chins.

"Get him out of here, Rook. Keep him away. From Treviso. From the Crows. He's a danger to the family."

"No, Illario. The only danger I see is the one before me." Daisy gripped her staff tighter. The air around her crackled and spun. "You're going to be fighting a lot of undead should anything happen to Lucanis."

"Are you threatening me?" Illario went to move forward, but the risen made a hiss and lunged for him but barely.

"No Illario, a threat is a statement that expresses an intention to cause harm or pain. I promise you that I will raise the grandest of undead to find you and destroy you—a crow or not." With her words, a swarm of cerulean butterflies swirled around them. "Get out."The glow only increased as Illario took his leave; the slightest flicker of fear crossed his face. The grip on her control started to slip as his back was turned towards her. It took every inch of control in her body not to throw the bastard against the wall, smashing his face into the stone. This feeling...this feeling she'd never felt before, and it scared her. Daisy wanted to hurt someone...

"Daisy!" A voice broke through to Daisy. She turned to see Taash staring at her, her eyes flickering between her and the venatori, who were still shuffling around them. Daisy tapped her staff to the ground twice, the bodies crumbling to the floor in heaps.

"Do not mention that to Emmrich, please, Taash. I would appreciate it." Daisy fell beside them, checking over Lucanis to ensure Illario didn't injure him. Besides a few cuts and bruises, he seemed fine. "Taash, can you carry Lucanis back to the Lighthouse?"

"Yeah, he's not that heavy." They replied, gathering them up in their massive arms. Daisy was always jealous of, mainly their strength, but Daisy's was always a little bit...flabby. "What about you? You good? You're eyes are still glowing. Didn't know you could do that." Their head gestured to the dead bodies around them.

"Yeah, neither could I," Daisy muttered, shaking her head. "I'll send a message to Teia and Viago. I'm not leaving Zara's body here. We might get some information out of her with Emmrich's help." Daisy clasped her hands together, a butterfly forming between them. She whispered to it before setting it free. With the message sent, the two of them left to the eluvian.

The trek back wasn't too bad; no crows stopped them from entering the casino, so Illario might not have said anything if he made any comment. Jacobus and Teia met them at the entrance, stating that Viago had gone to retrieve the body. Daisy said she would send someone to pick up Zara's body at the crossroads when they returned to the Lighthouse. In the meantime, they needed to get Lucanis back. Teia was concerned, asking questions while Taash marched forward. Daisy answered what she could, but Lucanis should be the one explaining what had happened. Telling the Seventh Talon that Illario used blood magic might not go over so well if it came from her. Daisy promised Teia that Lucanis would be looked after and that he would see her once he woke up. Teia nodded and held Daisy to that promise.

Taash and Daisy wasted no time taking Lucanis back to the Lighthouse and into the infirmary. "Emmrich! Bellara! I need help!" Daisy called as Taash rounded the corner down the hall. She followed suit quickly, shooting Varric a look before helping the qunari get Lucanis situated on the bed.

"By the gods! Whose blood is that?!" Bellara shouted, and Emmrich ran into the room.

"Creepy lady blood mage was bathing in a pool of blood. We fought her in a pool of blood." Taash answered as Emmrich went to work, his hands moving over Lucanis's body.

"Illario came out of nowhere and killed Zara. Lucanis...Spite got angry and took control. The next thing I knew, Lucanis passed out in a daze. I sensed blood magic, Emmrich. Illario used blood magic." Daisy explained, one of her hands not letting go of Lucanis's. "Is Spite okay too? Do you think the blood magic could have affected him or the both of them?"

Spite might have come around and sensed that Lucanis wasn't awake as Lucanis's eyes opened to show their purple hue. When he tried to sit up, Daisy placed a firm hand on his chest and forced him down. "Don't you dare Spite; I am very angry with you." Spite went to open his mouth, but Daisy stopped him. "You will not say a word until I know Lucanis is alright. I will have words with you as well later. Now, hush and sleep."

The spirit of Spite did as it was told and retreated into Lucanis without a word spoken.

Everyone in the room could feel the energy around Daisy coming off her in waves. This nervous energy didn't settle the more time Lucanis closed his eyes. Emmrich suggested that while they look over Lucanis, they should...wash the copious amount of blood from themselves. Daisy didn't want to leave Lucanis, but Emmrich was right. Battling in a pool of blood...you didn't know what was swimming around in it besides a disease-ridden blood mage.

"Come on, let's get cleaned up." Taash placed their hand on Daisy's shoulder, pulling her away while Emmrich and Bellara got to work.

~oOo~

Daisy might have allowed herself to drown if the stone bath was deep enough. Swimming down to the bottom and never coming up for air ever again.

She rose the dead.

One of the rules that was drilled into her year after year.

"Do not rise the dead. In doing so, we remove our status of Mourn Watchers, keepers to the dead. We will adhere to this rule in or out of the Necropolis." Her mother's voice echoed in the room around her. Daisy sat in the stone bath, knees drawn up to her chest as she looked at her hands. She scrubbed them raw before getting in, trying her hardest to get as much of the dried blood off of her. Even in the hot water, Daisy felt cold.

What she did...had done...she didn't even mutter a word, it just happened.

Never before had she felt so much power at her fingertips. It was as if something cracked within her, this pressure or power seeping out. What scared her was that it was familiar. This power, this force, was familiar, like an old friend. She had felt it before somewhere, but she just...can't. Since Solas's ritual and his entering her dreams, things have been...unstable. Dreams... no memories have started to surface, and Daisy's afraid. Seeing Lucanis on the floor scared her even more than her forgotten memories.

A flash of light and pain. Sending Daisy down a rabbit hole of memories. All those bodies. All that blood. The screams and cries of pain. The tears and whimpers of small children crying for their mothers. Shouts of pain and anger. Someone shouting at her and then nothing. An explosion and nothing.

Then, the faces and sounds were gone like the snap of someone's fingers.

Looking down, Daisy felt everything slip out of her hands like water.

After cleaning up, Daisy returned to the infirmary to check on Lucanis. Emmrich was waiting for her, and he wasn't alone. Neve was chatting with Emmrich, and Spite was awake when she walked in. Spite turned his head towards her and tried to get up, but thankfully, the necromancer reminded him that Lucanis needed rest.

"Lucanis is fine except for a few cuts from the fight. He'll be sore when he wakes, but I'm more concerned about the blood magic used on him. You said Illario was the one using it?"

"Yes, and last time I checked, he wasn't a mage," Daisy answered as she sat on the bed next to Lucanis. Spite's eyes were watching her intently. "Do you think it has something to do with what Zara did to him? Is there a way to ensure he can't be controlled again?"

"Of that, I am not sure. I will need to ask Lucanis some questions when he wakes, but as far as I can tell, he will be fine, my dear." Emmrich squeezed her shoulder.

"Blood magic can come in different forms. You said you smashed a vial of blood when you went to free him. Maybe some of it was kept?" Neve spoke up. "Wouldn't be the first time blood mages kept blood of their victims in different places."

"I asked Teia and Viago to return Zara's body to the Lighthouse. I hope you can chat with her. Maybe she can shed some light on what happened?" Daisy said hopefully before turning her head to Neve. "Neve can help them bring the body to Emmrich for me when they arrive? Once I talk with Spite and make sure Lucanis is okay, I'll come find you."

"No problem, sunshine. Let me know if you need anything." Neve smiled before the two left the room.

When Daisy turned her attention to Spite, she realized that the spirit had been awfully quiet the entire time she talked. It is strange how normally he would do all he could to have his attention front and center. His purple eyes followed her every move as she watched him herself.

"You are awfully quiet, Spite."

"You said. Not to speak." Daisy was taken aback that the spirit took the words to heart when she told him to be quiet.

"You can speak now, Spite. At that moment, we needed to make sure you both were okay." Daisy explained courtly.

Spite watched her for a minute before leaning forward, bringing them almost nose to nose. "You care. For him. Us. Why?"

"It's...complicated, Spite." Daisy felt some heat rise in her face with the closeness.

"Explain!"

"Spite...it doesn't work like that. I mean, asking someone why they care...it's personal. I just...you are correct that I have a certain fondness for you both." Daisy tried to ignore the burning in her cheeks and prayed to the holy undead that Lucanis was well away from listening. "You always say the strangest things at random times, Spite," Daisy muttered the last part to herself.

"Honeysuckle and peaches...." Spite muttered, his eyes dropping as he leaned forward towards her neck. Daisy froze, not willing to move.

"What? Spite, I don't understand...and you just can't tell people what they smell like!"

She heard Spite chuckle, a deep sound that made the hairs stand up. "You smell. Like honeysuckle and peaches."

"Yes, I am aware you just said that. And it's my soap you're smelling." Daisy pulled away, but Spite reached out to grab her arms.

"No! You. Smell different. Not like the Death Mage. Starched linen. Stale air and cold dirt." Spite took a deep inhale next to her neck. "Not you." His voice grew...soft. "Honeysuckle and peaches. Summertime in the sun. Warmth. And yet you smell like the fade. Familiar." Spite let go of Daisy's arms to cup Daisy's face. "Familiar like home. Lucanis remembers. You smell like home. Of comfort and warmth."

"Is that a bad thing?" Daisy whispered.

Spite growled lowly. "Scares him. Doesn't trust not you hurt you. Won't hurt you. Can't hurt you. Scared, I will, but I won't." Spite's voice got quiet again, "He's scared to be warm."

Daisy took one of his hands in hers, clasping them in between. "He doesn't have to be scared of being warm. I hope some of mine will reach him." A gentle smile appeared on her face as she looked at him. "I know you would never hurt me, Spite. You also can't tell him not to be afraid, Spite; Lucanis needs to work on this himself."

Spite growled again and held her hand tighter. "No! You. Will. leave."

"I won't leave Spite. Nothing will make me leave." Daisy said sternly, moving her hand to rest against his cheek. "I am very cross with you, however."

"No! Not mad!"

"You took control of Lucanis Spite; you attacked his family. You can't do that!" Daisy sighed and tried to let go, but Spite refused. "We had a deal, Spite, and you broke it."

"Not fair."

"It doesn't matter if it's fair; a deal is a deal. There were three rules, one of which was that you would not take control over Lucanis without consent." Spite rolled his eyes at her. "Although Spite...I do have to admit, you did help in a way." Spite cocked his head to the side, and Daisy tried to stop the twitch of her mouth. "If you didn't lose control and attack Illario, he wouldn't have used blood magic to control you. Illario had to protect himself, so in doing so, he revealed his hand. I am still cross."

"She was ours! Her heart through our blade! Dead and bleeding!"

"Still doesn't allow you to lose control like that! You could have hurt Lucanis or even me."

"No!"

"Yes, Spite!" Daisy sighed and stood from the bed. Spite tried to follow but she put her hand on his shoulder, not allowing him to get up. "Lucanis needs rest, Spite. And since you broke our agreement, think of this as a punishment." Spite growled in response, and with the pout on his face, Daisy couldn't help but find it a little adorable. "You will allow Lucanis to sleep for as long as he needs. Afterward, we will discuss our broken agreement."

"BUT-"

"No butts, Spite! A deal is a deal, remember?" Daisy leaned over and kissed Lucanis's (Spite) forehead. The spirit's words died in his mouth as Daisy pulled away. "Sleep well, you two."

"Sleep. Well." Spite muttered before laying back down on the cot. Spites followed her as she left them alone. With a soft click, Daisy shut the door behind her. A sigh escaped her lips.

She needed to have a talk with Emmrich.

#lucanis dellamorte #dragon age #dragon age vailguard #dragon age rook #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #lucanis x rook #dragon age spoilers #emmrich volkarin #dragon age the veilguard #oc #zara renata #illario dellamorte #taash #teia cantori

21 notes · View notes

fangsandfeels · 4 months ago

Text

Honestly, Alruna is romancing Lucanis, but that doesn't stop me from being a nitpick. But I'm being gentle here because I liked Lucanis, which made me all more sad about what could have been.

The premise is good. I like the idea of a possessed companion. I like the idea that the demon that possess him is not necessarily evil, it's just pissed off because it's also a prisoner and it didn't ask for this.

I like the idea of that demon trying, in its own way, to dig its host out from the layers of trauma and self-loathing and doesn't understand how that man can hate himself so damn much.

But the execution....

First things first, it was hilarious to imagine Alruna and Lucanis just zoning out in the middle of the conversation, with Teia and Viago standing there like:

Now, on a more serious note, it all felt rushed and undercooked.

For instance: the dream sequence.

There are numerous implications that Lucanis was tortured in the Ossuary, abused in his childhood, but we don't see any of the flashbacks, just bodiless voices of the Venatori, Zara, and Caliban mocking Lucanis - and it feels like the team just chickened out of showing anything more, ignoring a great opportunity of telling us more about the character.

Yes, we never got explicit scenes of Fenris getting his lyrium scars or flashbacks of him being tortured by Hadriana, but we didn't need to: Fenris' behavior, habits, and tendency to lash out were telling us everything we needed to know. We could guess just enough.

Lucanis, however, is a closed book. He always maintains that calm, polite demeanor, which makes it look like his time in the Ossuary didn't affect him at all. This is not bad - he is good at hiding pain and anything that can distract him from the job, he was trained for this. However, the Inner Demons was a wonderful opportunity to reveal the complete and utter hellscape his mind was boiling in all that time. Imagine Rook bearing witness to some of most painful moments of his life and realizing he is going through those over and over. Imagine Rook having to not just exchange a couple of words with his mind's fantoms, but to fight them - or, quite the opposite, talk to them despite the burning desire to cave their face in

*cough*Caterina*cough*

Or, quite the opposite, maybe Rook knows some stories from Lucanis' childhood and grows to silently resent Caterina, only to catch a glimpse of her in the memories and realize that she truly believed she was doing her grandchildren a favor, even if it hurt her to hurt them.

(Heck, it would have been much better if Caterina actually sacrificed herself to save Lucanis - because she stopped caring about him not being able to go back, she wanted a chance for her grandson to live, to get out of that deathtrap of a life she got stuck in, together with her children.

Seriously, if we're talking about parents/relative getting a redemptive death, it should have been Caterina, fight me)

It would have added so much to the Lucanis' character and past, not to mention to the romance. Especially if Rook wasn't that well-versed in psychoanalysis and found themselves unsettled by accessing someone's traumatic memories, but didn't regret it because it meant Lucanis wasn't dealing with that shit alone anymore - and that they didn't see him as a lesser man for hurting.

2. It strikes me how...unfounded Lucanis' concerns are? About Spite. Not only everyone seem to chat with Spite nicely, but also Lucanis has been out of control only once, when Illario provoked Spite? In the Ossuary, Lucanis was perfectly himself and in synergy with Spite as he broke out, giving us zero reasons to be concerned.

He didn't ran out half-feral, with glowing eyes, gutting his wardens and then pinning Rook to the floor, stopping himself only in the last moment.

He didn't attack anyone from the group.

He didn't have a fight with Rook and the group like it was with Zevran.

We got a glimpse of why Spite might be bad news when he got pissed off at Lucanis for not letting him talk to Rook and took his anger out on Lucanis. But, once again, this was a one-time performance. We don't even get a flashback of Spite lashing out at Lucanis many-many times when they both got forcefully tied to each other.

Of course, Lucanis has reasons to be afraid - abominations are known for being horrible. But we, as a player, as a group, don't get many reasons to be afraid of Spite. Not once we're given even a false impression of Lucanis - or us - being in danger because of Spite. We needed a lot more moments of Spite acting weird or unsettling. Maybe Spite talking more cryptically about the Lucanis' state of mind - until we get to the Inner Demons and realize that all that time Spite was trying to help him.

Like, I can't even consider Spite a demon i.e. corrupted. He is more like a traumatized spirit, who retained his original aspect. It would have been interesting if you actually could turn Spite into a demon and make Lucanis a real abomination (if an evil "destroy your companions' lives" route was an option).

(Also, it's so damn funny that after all the beef, after giving Lucanis so much shit for being an assassin and abomination, Davrin doesn't even get a cameo in Lucanis "don't trust the demon" section and there is Harding instead. It's Davrin who was aggressive (well, as aggressive as the game can allow it) towards Lucanis, constantly voicing his doubts and trying to attribute his mistakes to "Are you sure the demon didn't make you do it?". And for all that hard work, Lucanis doesn't feature him in his depression gallery. Davrin should be offended. I know I would have been.)

3. I feel it would have been better if Lucanis' conflicted feelings about Illario being a traitor weren't about "I have to kill him, but he is family and there are so few of us left" because, well, Crows aren't about family. They shouldn't be. Of course, the assassins born and bred in noble families would spew a lot of BS about family and loyalty, but only to gaslight the underlings into doing their bidding. One mistake, one unfulfilled contract, one slipup - and family stops mattering and this is how things are.

It could have made more sense if Crows took serious issue with Lucanis being possessed and Lucanis was, in fact, unable to go back. Not only Illario proved to be stronger by outsmarting him, he also took his previous life away from him - and even if Lucanis kills him, he won't be able to return.

Nobody will trust a demon - at best he would end up in another prison, to be studied for the Guildmaster's benefit.

Nobody would let a former Talon just live - he should die with all the guild's secrets. And why wouldn't he die? Without Crows, he is just a murderer, a bloody blade for hire - not worth anything, not worth anyone's trust, too much blood on his hands to pretend he could ever be something else.

Illario could have been the inner demon taunting Lucanis, calling him weak, calling him a fool for surviving and persisting - for what? Doesn't he know that justice isn't real? Did Lucanis get so desperate and pathetic, he started believing in fairy tales? As if one "right" death will fix everything?

Lucanis hesitation about confronting Illario should stem from "and then what?" - and Rook's goal should be to convince him that there are other options for him and that he should get payback for himself.

It would have been so interesting to have an opposite of Zevran - a Crow who can be convinced he doesn't have to live like this and that not being able to Crow anymore isn't the end of the world. And since I do like Lucanis as a character and like the crumbs of romance content with him, I wish there could have been more.

#veilguard #dragon age: veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age lucanis

19 notes · View notes

redhoodscorvid · 4 months ago

Text

My current Neve/Rook/Lucanis pre-ot3 snippets:

The Midnight Society series summary Sidequest ending: Partners in a Dangerous Game Different first meeting Spite & Rook admire Neve (Lucanis pines) Lucanis and Neve worry about Rook

The Midnight Society series summary

It's true that most of the Lighthouse's residents have trouble sleeping. But in the midnight sun of their sanctuary's magical kitchens, it's three bodies in particular that seem to gravitate toward late night coffee as black as their souls.

Or, two Crows and a private detective.

---

Lucanis started flirting with Neve because it was less intimidating than the alternative.

Their personas fit. The infamous Mage-killing assassin stalking the shadows for blood and the famous Mage-detective stalking the corrupt streets for clues were well-worn sets of clothing. The hint of danger was to be expected, for them, but it was also easy. When it came to Neve Gallus, he could be the person he was supposed to be, and she let him. Mostly.

Rook turned all of his expectations upside down. Entirely too optimistic for a Crow and not nearly bloodthirsty enough, Viago de Riva's favourite protege pushed Lucanis to his limits and demanded that he become something greater than the expectations that had been placed on him. Greater than the horrors that had been forced into him.

It would have been easy to avoid Rook and let the easy words and suggestive looks with Neve carry him through the rest of his contract. It was an annoyance that his traitorous heart had to beat in tune with both of theirs.

It was terrifying that neither mage had enough self-preservation to stay away from Spite.

---

Sidequest ending: Partners in a Dangerous Game

"I heard from Chance that you let a traitor go."

Rook paused in sharpening their knives at the table in the corner. "Is that what he called it?"

Lucanis nodded, but his words were casual. "In those words, yes, but I could tell he was laughing. He'll likely keep a closer eye on you from now on, though."

Rook grumbled something under their breath. Lucanis would pretend that he didn't hear the word "Illario" in the string of muttered invective.

They took up the knife again and set to very intently removing a minuscule nick from the blade. Lucanis approved, overall. There was no reason to carry substandard weapons: you never knew when you were going to need to rely on the perfection of a blade's edge. With slashing motions moreso than stabbing, really.

"SICKLY SWEET," Spite complained from where he sprawled on the floor next to Rook. The demon affected a relaxed pose just to irritate Lucanis further. "MAKE THEM STOP. BAKED APPLES AND SOFT CHEESE. RIPENED TOO LONG."

Lucanis wrinkled his nose.

"I got a letter from the pair, you know." Rook said this casually, as if they were barely paying attention to Lucanis. It was a good showing. "A Venatori and a Crow fell in love, abandoned the city for each other. Maybe Venatori recruits having a chance to pick another life isn't a bad thing."

Spite sprung to his feet and shrieked, an inarticulate wail of disgust and betrayal. Lucanis felt a pang in his own chest.

"How about the Crow recruits?" asked Lucanis, pretending not to notice.

Rook hummed and didn't answer, but he supposed that Rook themselves were an answer to that question.

Spite fell silent with a sharp intake of breath. He looked Rook up and down, and then snapped his eyes back to Lucanis, declaring: "ROOK SHOULD BE EMBARRASSED. NOT ENOUGH. VENATORI BLOOD SPILLED."

---

Different first meeting

"I have to admit," Neve said, feet clicking on the marble floors, "So far, this place is surpassing my expectations."

Rook stepped carefully between a pair of shredded bodies, peering out into the next hallway. "It's true," they said. "Until the Ossuary, I'd never experienced such hospitality from Venatori."

"So nice when they lie down and die for you."

"When they get torn apart by their own demons," Rook agreed, eyeing a peculiar set of bloody gashes that appeared to have torn through two Venatori mages in tandem.

"Although some of these wounds are a little off for that," said Neve. "Some of these are stab wounds, with the bloody weapon left out in the open. Are the Venatori fighting each other, I wonder?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," said Rook, "But it could easily be something weirder."

By mutual agreement, Neve and Rook turned the first (bloody) office inside out in their search for clues. Neve quickly flipped through the notes on the desk. The other mage flipped through the journals on the shelf. Rook felt the air shift.

Rook moved instinctively. In one motion, they drew their mage-knife and called up power to block—

Their opponent anticipated them.

A deft pair of hands moved with Rook, using their momentum to swing them off balance. Rook's hip hit the side of a table, but they kept their feet with the enemy at their back.

The whisper of a blade touched their throat.

It felt so much like sparring with Teia that Rook froze. Their opponent closed the space, and Rook lost their chance to make a fade step backward to loosen the hold.

"It's possible I'm hallucinating," said a low, dangerous voice in their ear, as a hand slid into their hair. Rook calculated how quickly they could overload the space with electricity. Neve had turned around with her staff raised and Rook saw the same calculation in her eyes.

The hand tightened. The blade scraped the surface of Rook's neck in threat.

"…but why are a Crow and a Tevinter mage here to treat with the Venatori?"

Wait.

"Wait," said Rook, lifting their hands slowly to ward off Neve from doing something rash. "I'm here with a contract."

"Hm," said Dellamorte, "Not freelancing?"

"Catarina Dellamorte sent me," said Rook, feeling very foolish. They had taken out a despair demon one-on-one in a knife fight two days ago. If this was how they died, Viago was going to kill them. "To give you a contract."

Neve was lowering her staff, but Rook could tell it was to de-escalate, rather than because she believed there was no threat. Then again, the other Crow moved the knife scant inches away from Rook's throat, so they would take the win. Rook breathed in, dizzy with the ambient magic that was building between the three of them.

"To be honest, this was supposed to be a rescue," Neve said in her low, sardonic voice, not putting away her weapon. She kept her eyes, unblinking, on the man behind Rook.

The non-mage assassin of mages whose ambient magic was merrily crackling, barely held back from being unleashed.

Rook cleared their throat, bringing everyone's attention back to them. "So," they said, forcing the hoarseness from their voice, "Could we put the knives away for a moment before we talk about the demon?"

Since Rook hadn't been violently killed in a horrible misunderstanding yet, they twisted their neck a bit to look back at their captor and hypothetical rescuee. Brown eyes looked back at them incredulously. "And can you teach me that move?"

(This one posted to Ao3 as the Knife to Meet You ficlet.)

---

Spite & Rook admire Neve (Lucanis pines)

Inebriation is something that Crows typically avoid. Wine flows freely, but Crows are expected to keep their heads in all situations.

Even so, Rook was hit by a nasty bit of magic during a trip to Minrathous. Holed up in Neve's tiny apartment as the owner is out searching for a rare tincture, Lucanis is treated to painkiller-induced rambling from Rook along with an angry tirade from Spite.

At the point that Rook starts talking about the casual confidence that Neve projects when she's "classily telling evildoers to go drown in the rotting harbour", Spite stops ranting and starts paying close attention.

Rook can't hear Spite, but the two of them ramble happily (with manic interjections from the demon) about Neve's admirable implacability until she returns with the tincture.

---

Lucanis and Neve worry about Rook

Lucanis looked tiredly into the black depths of his coffee. Clicking footsteps approached the table.

"Something wrong with the roast?" Neve asked. "I know you're fussy about temperature, but I suspect being lukewarm doesn't help."

He took a quick breath and brought the coffee to his lips, taking a fortifying sip. It was a good thing she had come by. He might have slipped again.

"No," he said finally. "I'm just thinking about that last fight with the Aantam."

Neve sat delicately across from him. "The one where Rook ran into the middle of three axemen and told us to take out the snipers?"

Lucanis scowled. "They're careless."

"It could always be worse," said Neve, kicking back in the chair so that Lucanis could see her face more clearly behind the veil. "When I started working with them, they barely took the time to give those instructions."

"My grandmother always told me that an impatient Crow is a dead Crow."

"Now that we're well on our way to having our own little murder here at the Lighthouse," said Neve. "Maybe you can teach me to keep a better eye on our most illustrious leader."

The door swung open and two sets of eyes turned to a bedraggled Rook, carrying a sheath of loose parchment. "Lucanis, do you happen to—oh hey, Neve."

Lucanis looked back to Neve, who rolled her eyes. He sighed and drank the rest of his lukewarm coffee in one pull.

"I suppose if I make more coffee, the two of you will be wanting some?"

#my fic #neve/rook/lucanis #ficlet #veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #da veilguard #lucanis dellamorte #neve gallus #crow rook #rook de riva #they/them pronouns for rook

23 notes · View notes

blackjackkent · 22 days ago

Text

Aight, poking at a bit more Veilguard tonight!

We've finished Lucanis's recruitment, so our first order of business is to go round and check in with everyone at the Lighthouse.

It's now a daytime vibe, which is nice, and apparently we also have the option to go back to Antiva and wander around if we want, but that's not a top priority at the moment. (Next up is going to Minrathous, which Helena is very excited about. :D )

Neve has nothing to say at the moment, but Lucanis, Bellara, and Harding all do. Let's start with Lucanis since he's the new boy and we should be sure he's settling in okay.

He's holed up in the pantry area behind the dining hall, where he's set up a little bedroll for himself on what appears to be a low table.

"You asked for time," Helena says conversationally. "Is this long enough?"

Lucanis looks at her warily for a moment, then nods. "Yes," he says. "My head's clearer. Though I would kill for a decent cup of coffee."

"Have you?" Helena asks before she can stop herself. "For coffee, I mean?"

Lucanis looks at her steadily. "Not today," he says, deadpan dry.

Ah, so he does have a sense of humor, albeit a subtle one. Helena relaxes a little. He seems like a valuable asset for their ragtag little group - but if he was as humorless as he appeared down in the Venatori prison, he would no doubt find Helena very difficult to work with before long.

He still might, I guess.

Lucanis crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow expectantly. "You've got questions," he says. "You might as well ask them."

She's got plenty, but the practical ones come first. There's little point making plans to fight gods with a man who doesn't want to be there. "I know Caterina 'volunteered' you to work with us," she says briskly. "Are you okay with that?"

Lucanis shrugs. "When the First Talon of the Crows gives you a job, you do it," he answers. "Especially if she's your grandmother. But there's plenty of reason for me to work with you beyond that, Rook."

She searches his expression, but there's no trace of ribbing or mockery in the words. He seems to be being perfectly sincere. "Such as?" she asks, a little ruefully. She knows her own skills plenty well, but she still isn't entirely convinced to match Varric's certainty that leadership is one of them.

"I owe you a debt, for one," Lucanis says mildly. "And after a year in that hole... maybe I'm looking forward to stabbing a god or two in the back."

Helena smiles faintly. That is certainly the right attitude, under the circumstances.

She settles herself on a nearby barrel of fruit and crosses her arms, looking at him curiously. "You're the best mage-killer in the Antivan Crows. So how'd the Venatori catch you?"

Lucanis's expression hardens. "Someone set me up," he says bitterly. "I had a contract for Calivan. In the Ossuary. I took a ship from Treviso to Minrathous. They were waiting for me - knew which ship and when it would arrive. I don't know how they convinced the Crows I was dead - but I woke up in the Ossuary with Zara gloating about it."

Helena grunts thoughtfully. That might bear some thinking about. She knows as well as anyone - and better than most - not to underestimate the Venatori; there's plenty of ways they could have gotten that information. But it does suggest that the Crows might have a mole in their organization, which is not a comforting thought.

Well, no point in thinking about that for now. She looks around, checking that he seems to be getting comfortable in his little hidey-hole. "The Crossroads can be dicey," she says conversationally. "But the Lighthouse is safe. Oh - and if you see a spirit around called the Caretaker, they're friendly."

The truth is she's not entirely sure of the truth of any of these statements. But it can't hurt to at least act for now as if they have a handle on the situation.

"After the Ossuary, that will be a pleasant change," Lucanis says dryly. He hesitates, then squints at her narrowly. "You haven't asked about Spite."

She isn't really even sure WHAT to ask about Spite. Her handle on magic stuff is shaky enough as it is, but Spite's presence in Lucanis doesn't make sense even with the small bit she knows.

"From what I've seen, I'd say he picked the right name," she says noncommittally.

This time there's no humor in Lucanis's voice, not even in deadpan. "He's stronger when I sleep," he mutters. "So I try not to do it much." One fist clenches at his side, then slowly loosens. "No one was in the Ossuary by choice. Not even the demons. We... both did what we had to do, to get out of there."

Helena frowns, watching his expression. She doesn't envy him the experience he went through - but she also doesn't understand how it happened in the first place, or how worried they all need to be about it. "So..." she says carefully, "if you're an abomination..."

Lucanis sighs. "I suppose I should get used to that..."

"But I heard that only mages can get possessed by demons," Helena presses. She's seen it happen more than once in Minrathous, both among powerful mages and those of lower stature, and it's never a pretty sight.

Lucanis smiles crookedly and spreads his hands with an air of uncertainty. "I'm skilled with a blade, but I promise you - without Spite, I have the magical talent of a brick. There must be some difference between a demon deceiving their way into a body and being forced into one."

Helena frowns. None of this makes sense, and it's more than a little unsettling. If this Zara is out there performing experiments to shove demons into the bodies of non-mages, then she's a danger even to dwarves with their disconnect from the Fade.

Helena has been so sure of who she was for a long time. A dwarf among mages, yes, but one who knew how to deal with them, how to live in Minrathous's shadowy corners and do the things that needed doing.

Now, though... everything that she thought she knew to be true seems to be changing.

She sighs. Well, like Varric said - we've just got to step up and deal with it.

"We should know," she says, reverting back to practical questions again. "Is there anything in particular that upsets Spite?"

"Not getting his way." Lucanis snorts. "Getting his way, and not liking the outcome."

Helena raises an eyebrow and then grins. "Sounds like a child."

But Lucanis, again, is not smiling as he answers. "Have you seen a child when they realize they don't control the world?" he says flatly. "Except Spite's anger has real power behind it." He shakes his head. "Leave Spite to me. If he's trapped in this world, he has good reason to fight for it."

He turns away, busying himself with straightening the bedroll on his makeshift bed. "For now... I must honor our contract. Gods, magic, politics..." He lets out a heavy breath. "Hm. Things are going to get very bloody."

#bjk plays datv #helena mercar #i feel like lucanis needs a hug

10 notes · View notes

rin-hanarin · 1 month ago

Note

Hello! For Romance Tarot Ask Game: The Hermit, Temperance and The World ?

Thank you so much for the ask ��

More lucaren yapping, mandatory Ask Game Link

The Hermit: In the quiet moments where it’s just the two of them, how do Rook and their partner share that time?

They mostly just cuddle and hold each other, honestly. It’s been a journey to even get to the point of touching each other, and Lucanis is very touch starved, while Renzo just isn’t used to someone being gentle with him, so they enjoy it while they can.

Other than that Renzo sometimes gets up very early just to sit with Lucanis in the kitchen. Some days they talk, some days Renzo is too tired and is dozing off in a chair while Lucanis is busy cooking. If they end up sleeping in the other’s room, Lucanis always brushes Renzo’s hair in the morning because it’s a lot of work, but he also finds it comforting, and Renzo doesn’t stop him. They don’t get much time for proper dates, so they occasionally just use “Crow business” as an excuse to walk around Treviso together, since Lucanis really needs to get used to his city again after his imprisonment, and Renzo gets homesick more often than he realizes himself.

Temperance: What does Rook need to heal within themself to become a better partner? What about their SO?

I'd say Renzo needs to learn to be vulnerable with Lucanis first. He saw Lucanis at his most vulnerable, after all, with Spite taking over multiple times and the Fade Ossuary, but Renzo, despite how much he trusts Lucanis, also struggles to trust him with his genuine feelings. He knows he wants to spend more time with Lucanis, he knows he wants his undivided attention, but he'd never say it, so he either doesn't bring it up at all, or just acts clingy and bratty “as a joke” and hopes that Lucanis can decipher what that means, which obviously doesn't work all the time. He has to figure out how to be honest with the person who wants him to be safe above all else, and fortunately for Renzo Lucanis has the patience of a saint and knows how to see past his nonsense (“You’re impossible, that’s what I love about you”), otherwise they'd probably never get together in the first place.

Lucanis meanwhile learned a lot about himself when Renzo was trapped in Regret Prison. He didn't let Renzo express his feelings the one time he actually managed to try, he couldn't bring himself to properly express his feelings either and didn't make any promises, and I believe he regretted all of it when he thought he'd lost him. Lucanis had been watching Renzo the whole time: as a colleague, then as his friend and partner, and he knew that they both had been struggling to make it work… Yet he was the one who failed the most. He couldn't tell Renzo he loved him, he didn't let Renzo say it either, knowing perfectly well how much effort it took, but he also didn't expect to end up spending two weeks not even knowing if he should be mourning or hoping and waiting for his return.

The World: Thedas is saved, but changed. Where do Rook and their love interest go from here? Is marriage on the table? Children? What milestones do they have to look forward to?

Neither Lucanis nor Renzo is anywhere near the idea of ever leaving the Crows, so instead they would try to make a place for themselves, and maybe start changing the Crows from within at some point. I believe the events on Tearstone Island were a wake-up call for both of them though. They both thought that they lost the other, so they would be pretty adamant about protecting each other once they return to Antiva, especially considering that the title of First Talon both protects them and puts a target both on Lucanis’ back and on those he cares about. Lucanis was already determined to kill a god to keep Renzo safe, it doesn’t go anywhere, and no assassin is good enough to compare to that; Renzo stays by his side as First Talon’s self-proclaimed bodyguard, and Viago can’t refuse him because he hasn’t seen him invested in anything to this degree in years, even though he has opinions on their relationship.

Teia is the one bringing up marriage, mostly as a joke, but she sees their dedication to each other, and Lucanis is one of the very few trusted people among the Crows, so if there’s anyone who wouldn’t harm Renzo, it would be Lucanis. He is also a very obviously caring person, especially when it comes to family, and Teia, who sees Renzo as a part of her family alongside Caterina, knows she can trust Lucanis with his safety and well-being. If Lucanis himself wouldn’t protect him, his past reputation combined with a demon, his newly acquired “god-killer” moniker and the title might, probably even more so than hers and Viago’s combined.

Viago in the meantime is thinking how this relationship could benefit House de Riva, but he’s very reluctant to let Renzo go, both as his Talon and not-family. Renzo has obviously been and adult and his own person for years, he’s been away from the Crows for over a year and came out of it more than fine, but Viago still can’t stop seeing him as a fledgeling and a kid, so he ends up having Talks with Lucanis neither of them enjoys very much, but they still do it because they both love Renzo in their own ways.

Lucanis would be the one to consider marriage from every angle, but he wouldn’t bring it up for at least a year of careful consideration (and overthinking, of course.) He cares for Renzo and wants to keep him safe, but Renzo is younger than him and hasn’t been in many actual relationships either, so he tries to give him space and freedom… only for Renzo to always come back to him instead.

Renzo though? Despite his loyalty to Lucanis, he’d freak out at the idea of marriage even being brought up. He’d think both Lucanis and Teia are very hilarious separately and they didn’t need a united front to prove it, and he’d ask fifty times if they’re talking to the right guy. He doesn’t treat himself very seriously, surely they’re joking, surely Lucanis can’t be thinking of marrying him of all people, surely.

So, to summarize it all, the future is uncertain, but they’d certainly find themselves a remote place near Treviso, something separate from both of their Houses, where they can just be Lucanis and Renzo without House names and reputation attached to them, even though they have no plans to detach themselves from the Crows completely, nor would they be allowed to do that, as long as Caterina and to a way lesser extent Viago are in the picture. They both will get very busy with the remaining Antaam and the aftermath of the invasion, with Lucanis’ proper inauguration he’s not particularly thrilled about, and with Renzo trying to figure out how he fits into all of this, even though he’s a priority to Lucanis and one of his most treasured personal choices period.

#rookanis #lucanis x rook #lucanis romance #rook de riva #rook tarot ask game #oc: renzo de riva #oc: renzo #lucaren #datv #dav #dragon age

6 notes · View notes

udo0stories · 1 year ago

Text

There are so many fantastic day trips from Prague! Since moving to Prague a few years ago, I have spent a lot of time exploring the Czech Republic, including numerous day trips out of the city. There are so many stunning locations in the Czech Republic that are well worth seeing, but so many tourists only venture outside of Prague. What, then, are the top destinations in Prague to see during a day trip? My top recommendation is always the town of Kutná Hora, a pretty town home to an interesting church made of human bones, but on this list you have everything from natural wonders to interesting overlooked cities! Keep in mind that for an optimal day trip, I recommend a journey of two hours each way or less. You can go a bit beyond—like to Brno, Český Krumlov, or Olomouc—but I also think you should consider staying overnight if it’s a longer journey. Every trip on this list is either doable by train (often direct train), bus, or guided tour. (Planning a trip to Prague?)? Be sure to check out my favorite unusual things to do in Prague, the best Prague restaurants, and what NOT to do in Prague! This post was published in March 2024. Kutná Hora Kutná Hora is my personal pick for the best day trip from Prague. I always recommend it to Prague visitors because it’s a really pretty Bohemian town with a fascinating chapel built of bones; it’s a short, 50-minute journey from Prague; tickets are easy to buy; and tours are aplenty. The bone church—its real name is Sedlec Ossuary—is the main sight worth visiting. It’s creepy and fascinating while being an architectural marvel. (Know that photography is now allowed here.) But beyond the ossuary, the town of Kutná Hora is so underrated! It’s painted in beautiful Bohemian pastel colors, with lovely churches, cute restaurants, and flowers blooming everywhere. The perfect easy getaway that lets you see Bohemian life beyond Prague. Best things to do in Kutná Hora: Visit the bone church, of course! But also take time to stroll around the city center and grab a nice Czech lunch (I enjoyed the food and setting at Staročeská restaurace V Ruthardce). The Cathedral of St. Barbara is a spectacular gothic masterpiece, and don’t miss the Czech Museum of Silver and the Church of St. James. But Kutna Hora is a great place to get lost. Should you book a tour or go independently? I think Kutná Hora is pretty easy to do on your own via public transit, but if you’d rather have the ease of going with a tour guide, you can do that! Book a tour to Kutná Hora from Prague: This top-rated Kutná Hora tour from Prague includes round-trip transportation from your hotel in Prague, a tour of Kutná Hora town, and admission to Sedlec Ossuary. How to get to Kutná Hora from Prague independently: Head to Prague’s main train station, Hlavní nádraží (the station is abbreviated as Praha hl. n). Use the machines to buy a ticket to Kutná Hora Hl.n. The journey is 50 minutes direct; there are also trains that have a transfer in Kolín, which are closer to 90 minutes each way. From the station, it’s about a 15-minute walk to the bone church, then an additional 30-minute walk (or 15-minute walk-and-bus journey) to the city center. If you have a rental car, Kutná Hora is about an hour’s drive from Prague. Český Krumlov Český Krumlov is absolutely spectacular—a gorgeous medieval city in South Bohemia that looks plucked straight from a fairy tale, cliches be damned. The city is encircled by a river and topped with a castle overlooking the gorgeous town. Spending time in a small city like this makes a wonderful foil for the big city of Prague. Honestly, I urge people to stay overnight in Český Krumlov rather than do a day trip. Overnighting is so much better—the city is so peaceful and lovely when the day-trippers leave, plus you’ll have more time to explore, and it is a pretty far journey each way. But I understand that many travelers only have time for a day trip. If that’s all you have, that’s fine. Start your day early, end it late, and you’ll have a great time.

It’s one of the most popular day trips from Prague for a reason. The best things to do in Český Krumlov: Head up to the castle for a postcard-perfect photo of the town (and the light is best in the late afternoon). Hire a raft and go paddling along the Vltava River. Explore all the artsy little shops, and have a meal at a restaurant on the banks of the river. And head to Apoteka, one of my favorite bars in the Czech Republic—they are a cocktail bar with a menu of quirky craft cocktails. Try the popcorn sour! Should you book a tour or go independently? If you’re an experienced traveler, you’ll be comfortable getting yourself there by public transportation. But if you’d rather relax and have someone else handle all the logistics, taking the tour is a great idea, especially since it’s faster to drive to Krumlov than take public transportation. Book a tour to Český Krumlov from Prague: This top-rated Český Krumlov tour from Prague includes round-trip transportation via shuttle as well as a tour of Český Krumlov and some time to explore on your own. How to get to Český Krumlov from Prague independently: You can either take the train or the bus, but I recommend the bus because it’s direct and the bus station is much closer to town. (A few trains to Český Krumlov are direct, but most require a change in Ceské Budjevice, and the train station is about a 20-minute walk from the city center.) Buses to Český Krumlov leave from Na Knížecí, a bus station right by the Anděl metro stop in Prague. The bus takes just under three hours. If you have a rental car, Český Krumlov is about two hours and 15 minutes from Prague. Read More: Guide to Český Krumlov, Czech Republic Bohemian Switzerland is a spectacular day trip from Prague for nature lovers! Via Shutterstock. Bohemian Switzerland Despite its name, Bohemian Switzerland isn’t Switzerland at all—this is the name for a gorgeous natural region in the Czech Republic, right on the German border. (The German side is called Saxon Switzerland.) If you’re looking to escape Prague for the day to experience nature, Bohemian Switzerland National Park is home to the most awe-inspiring mountain views in the Czech Republic. Come here for dense forests, deep gorges, and fresh mountain air. The Tiské stěny—the Tisna Rocks—is a spectacular area with misty, high-piled rock formations and cliffs that served as a mystical backdrop in The Chronicles of Narnia movies. Bohemian Switzerland is a great spot to visit year-round, and tour operators adapt their trips to the current weather conditions. Make sure you wear good hiking shoes! The best things to do in Bohemian Switzerland: Hike three miles to Pravická Gate, the largest sandstone arch in Europe (pictured above). Take a boat through the gorges of the Kamenice River. Cross the German border to visit the Bastei Bridge and the spa town of Bad Schandau. And if you want to be independent, there are so many hiking trails! Czechs love to hike. Should you book a tour or go independently? I strongly recommend going on a tour, as it’s not easy to do with public transportation. Book a tour to Bohemian Switzerland from Prague: This top-rated Bohemian Switzerland day trip from Prague includes round-trip transportation from Prague and your choice of two options: you can either do a moderate hike to Pravická Gate or take a boat journey down the gorge. After, you’ll have lunch and a visit to the German side of the park to visit Bastei Bridge and Tiské stěny, the Tisna Rocks, before heading home. How to get to Bohemian Switzerland from Prague independently: Driving is your best option, as it’s much faster and easier. Bohemian Switzerland National Park is about one hour and 45 minutes from Prague. If not, take a train from Prague’s main train station, Praha hl.n., to the town of Děčín, and from there take a bus to the town of Hřensko. Get off at Hřensko-Pravická brána or Mezní, and from here you have a three-mile hike to the gate. Karlštejn Castle If you’d like to see more

of the Czech Republic besides Prague but don’t want to go too far or commit too much time, Karlštejn is an excellent day trip from Prague. This castle dates back to the 14th century, when King Karel IV ruled Bohemia. The castle is filled with works of art and history today, and the architecture is interesting. Tours of the castle leave continuously, and they always have tours in English. Should you book a tour or go independently? Karlštejn Castle is easy to get to by public transportation, but tours often add on a visit to another site, like the Koneprusy Caves. Book a tour to Karlstejn Castle from Prague: This group tour to Karlstejn Castle also includes a visit to the stalagmite- and stalactite-filled Koneprusy Caves, a visit to Big America Canyon, and lunch at a traditional Czech tavern. How to get to Karlštejn Castle from Prague independently: From the main train station in Prague, Praha hl.n., take the S7 train in the direction of Karlštejn. The journey is direct and takes about 41 minutes. This will drop you in the town of Karlštejn; from here, you can walk up to the castle. Plzeň is so pretty—and one of the best day trips from Prague! Via Nick N. A. on Shutterstock. Plzeň Are you a huge fan of Czech beer? You’ll be delighted with Plzeň (Pilsen). This town is home to the Pilsner Urquell brewery, and many Czechs and tourists have made the pilgrimage out to try the world’s best beer at its source. Not a beer drinker? You can still have fun in Plzeň if you want to, but you might have more fun in one of the aforementioned cities on this list. Even so, you can take in the best views of Plzeň from the Cathedral of St. Bartholomew or head underground to explore the tunnels that have been beneath the city for centuries! Should you book a tour or go independently? If you’re just visiting the brewery, just book yourself a train ticket—but if you want to add on glassblowing, I recommend booking a tour. Book a tour to Plzeň from Prague: This group tour from Prague to Plzen includes transportation from Prague, admission to the Pilsner Urquell Brewery, lunch in a Czech pub, and a visit to the Bohemia glassworks in Nizbor, which is a nice cultural way to supplement your day trip from Prague! How to get to Plzeň from Prague independently: From the main train station in Prague, Praha hl.n., book one of the many trains to Plzeň, and that journey takes about 90 minutes. Alternatively, you can book a Flixbus departing from the main bus station in Florenc, and that journey takes about 50 minutes. It’s hard not to fall in love with Karlovy Vary, one of the best Prague day trips! Karlovy Vary Karlovy Vary is one of the most elegant towns in the Czech Republic, made famous due to the rich geothermal waters surrounding the city. Karlovy Vary is a UNESCO World Heritage Site—one of the Great Spa Towns of Europe—and there are plenty of spas you can visit (my favorite is Hotel Thermal, with a warm outdoor pool you can enjoy year-round). In addition to the thermal springs, Karlovy Vary has nice hiking trails surrounding the town, the Moser Glass Works, good restaurants and shopping, beautiful arcades where you can sample all the spa waters with your signature cup, and they even put on a world-renowned film festival in the summer! My husband and I went to Karlovy Vary for a mini-moon right after we did our legal wedding in Prague. It couldn’t have been a better choice, though we had the benefit of enjoying a relaxed three-day visit rather than a quick day trip from Prague! I’d recommend staying overnight if you can, but a day trip is still worth it, too. Should you book a tour or go independently? It’s easy enough to get to Karlovy Vary by public transit; if you’re doing it on your own, I recommend going early and coming back late, as there’s so much to do. Book a tour to Karlovy Vary from Prague. This Karlovy Vary day trip from Prague includes transportation from Prague, a city tour, and four hours to explore on your own. How to get to Karlovy

Vary independently: There are both trains and buses running from Prague to Karlovy Vary, but there are a lot more buses than trains. Both buses and trains take about two hours each way. Tábor brings endless charm! Tábor If you’re looking for a nice little town that is more popular with Czechs than international visitors, I’m a big fan of Tábor. This pretty little town in South Bohemia is home to about 34,000 inhabitants—just big enough to find a bunch of things to do. In Tábor, you can wander the colorful streets of the town center; climb the tower of Kotnov Castle, with the best view of town; and for a delicious and unusual meal in the Czech Republic, the restaurant Rafariz dishes up sumptuous Uyghur-style noodle dishes. Another great option is to hike along the Lužnice River. There’s an easy trail along the river’s edge, and I really enjoyed this! Once you get to the town of Malšice, simply hop on the train back to Tábor. Should you book a tour or go independently? Independently, as it’s easy on public transportation and this is not a popular tour destination,. How to get to Tábor independently: There are plenty of trains from Prague to Tábor. From Prague’s main train station, you can expect a journey of an hour and 15 minutes on the local train, making it an easy day trip. Posázavská Stezka Czechs love getting out of the city on the weekends to hit the hiking trails. And while there are so many hiking day trips from Prague you can do by train, one I love to recommend is the Posásavska Stezka, located south of the city. This is a really nice hike along the river, with some moderate up-and-down segments. Altogether, you should expect 2.5–3 hours of hiking—and make time for a beer at the pub outside Petrov u Prahi station! Czechs pretty much hike to the pub; it’s what they do! If you do this hike on the earlier side, you’ll have plenty of time in the afternoon to spend in Prague. It’s more of a half-day trip than a full-day trip from Prague. Should you book a tour or go independently? Go independently. I don’t know of any tours doing this route. How to get to the Posásavska Stezka independently: Take the train from Prague’s main train station to Kamenny Přivoz station and take it back to Prague from Petrov u Prahi. Each way, it’s just under 90 minutes. Terezín Concentration Camp is one of the most moving day trips from Prague. Via Shutterstock. Terezín Not all day trips from Prague are about fun and games, and if you’re looking to understand one of the darkest chapters in Czech history, I recommend a visit to Terezín, a former concentration camp. Terezín (Theresienstadt Ghetto) is a camp where Jews from all over Europe were sent between 1941 and 1945. Terezín wasn’t explicitly an extermination camp, but it was designed to be a holding place before sending prisoners on to Auschwitz or Treblinka to be killed. Many died from illness, starvation, and poor living conditions. Around 150,000 Jews passed through here altogether; only 17,000 were saved after liberation. Creepily, this camp also served as a propaganda piece and was filled with flowers and pretty buildings, serving as a backdrop for what a nice place it would be for Jews to go. Should you book a tour or go independently? I strongly recommend booking a tour to Terezín from Prague. The sites are spread out all over the town, and it’s a much better experience if you have a local guide. Book a tour to Terezín from Prague: This top-rated Terezín tour includes transportation from Prague (including optional hotel pickup) and a guided three-hour historic tour of Terezín. It’s a half-day tour, so you’ll have most of your afternoon back in Prague. How to get to Terezín independently: To get to Terezín, head to Letňany station in Prague (not the main bus station) and get on Bus 413. Tell the driver you’re going to Terezín, pay for your ticket, and get off at the stop Terezín U Památniku. The small fortress is a short walk from the bus stop. From there, the other sites in town are up to a 15-minute walk away.

Liberec’s town square on a somewhat snowy winter day. Liberec One unusual day trip from Prague is to the town of Liberec (LEE-ber-ets), a city close to the German and Polish borders. In Liberec, you’ll find a pleasant small city with a wonderful collection of architecture, including an unusual Neo-Renaissance town hall! The best part of visiting Liberec is simply exploring the streets. While it isn’t a tourism powerhouse like Český Krumlov or even Brno, I find wandering around to be a worthwhile activity here. Don’t miss the villas behind the town hall, and there are some nice cafes tucked into the colorful streets of the old town. You could simply visit Liberec town, but for a treat, consider visiting Ještěd Tower, an unusual hotel and restaurant in a space ship-like shape with windows overlooking the natural beauty of the surrounding landscape. I loved visiting this place; the pumpkin soup was great, and it was a fun little excursion! Should you book a tour or go independently? Definitely go independently; I don’t think any tours from Prague exist. How to get to Liberec independently: To get to Liberec from Prague, head to Černý Most Station (the end of the B line) and take a bus to Liberec, which takes a little over an hour. If you want to get to Ještěd Tower, public transportation doesn’t go there; you’ll either need to drive from Prague or take a taxi from Liberec (about a 20-minute drive). Mariánské Lázně If you like the idea of Karlovy Vary but want to visit a spa town that’s a little more quiet, Mariánské Lázně makes a good choice for a (slightly far) day trip from Prague. Another of the UNESCO World Heritage-listed Spa Towns of Europe, Mariánské Lázně is a quiet, bucolic getaway where natural hot springs abound. If you’re spending a day here, you should make a reservation at the spa at the Hotel Nové Lazné, which has a gorgeous, elegant, Roman-style bathing area with multiple pools, along with saunas, steam rooms, and cold plunges. You can book spa treatments, too. That said, 2.5 hours each way is a bit long for a day trip, and you might get more out of your time if you overnight here (or visit Karlovy Vary, which is a bit closer). Should you book a tour or go independently? Go independently. I don’t know of any tours that exist. How to get to Mariánské Lázně from Prague independently: Take the train from Prague’s main train station to Mariánské Lázně. Trains run hourly, but every other hour it’s an indirect train that requires changing in Plzen. The journey is about 2.5 hours. From the station, I suggest hopping on the bus to the city center, as it’s a 30-minute uphill walk otherwise. If you time your visit right, Dresden’s Christmas markets are wonderful! Dresden, Germany Are you visiting Prague for the Christmas market season? I absolutely recommend taking a day trip to Dresden, Germany! (Just make sure that the markets are actually on — Christmas market season in Germany is shorter than Prague’s, usually running from December 1–23.) Dresden’s Striezelmarkt is one of the best in Germany, with several markets stretching across different neighborhoods. Come here for gluhwein, lebkuchen, and all kinds of tasty goodies (and be sure to read my guide to planning a German Christmas Market trip!). Is Dresden worth it if it’s not Christmas market season? Honestly, unless you have something specific you’ve wanted to visit in Dresden, I would choose somewhere else on this list. (I did really enjoy visiting the VW Golf factory, watching all the cars being manufactured!) Finally, if you’re intent on visiting Germany on a day trip from Prague, Dresden is your best bet—it’s close by with tons of transportation options. Nuremberg and Berlin are too far. Should you book a tour or go independently? Definitely go independently. Transportation couldn’t be easier. How to get to Dresden independently: You can either go by train or bus, and both ways take about two hours and 15 minutes, though buses are cheaper. You can take a

train directly from Prague’s main train station or a bus from Prague’s main bus station in Florenc. Brno The second-largest city in the Czech Republic is often overlooked by travelers, but Brno (BUR-no) has so much to offer. The largest city in the Moravia region of the eastern Czech Republic, Brno feels like a small, slightly shabbier version of Prague—but cheaper and a lot of fun, too! My absolute favorite thing to do in Brno is visit Villa Tugendaht, a really cool modern residence. If you’re interested in design or architecture in the least, you will love it! You should book tickets ahead. Other than that, be sure to check out the Brno Ossuary (bone church!), see the “Brno Dragon” in the town hall (it’s a crocodile!), and hit up the cool restaurants and bars in Brno (including my favorite, “The Bar that Doesn’t Exist,” an internationally lauded cocktail bar). Honestly, I think that Brno is better as an overnight destination. And if you’re traveling from Prague to Vienna or vice versa, it’s a nice place to stop in between. Should you book a tour or go independently? Go independently. Transportation is very easy. How to get to Brno independently: From Prague’s main train station, there are constant trains to Brno. Trains take about 2.5 hours. You can also find many buses along this route that take about the same amount of time. Olomouc Olomouc (o-lo-MOATS) is one of my favorite places in the Czech Republic, and you never see it mentioned on “best of” lists! Honestly, there aren’t a ton of things to do, but I think the city has a really great vibe and some nice restaurants and cafes. The city’s main square is home to the Holy Trinity Column, which itself is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Additionally, there are lots of fountains, an astronomical clock similar to Prague’s, lots of churches and parks, and a few museums. Olomouc also makes its own signature cheese. Full disclosure: I love cheese, but this cheese is not my favorite, so I recommend trying a small plate and not ordering it for your main meal! Olomouc isn’t the kind of city you visit with a checklist; it’s more of a place to soak up the vibe. And considering that it takes 2–2.5 hours to get here, this is also a place where you might prefer staying overnight. Should you book a tour or go independently? Go independently. Transportation is easy, and this isn’t a popular tour destination. How to get to Olomouc independently: From Prague’s main train station, there are constant trains to Olomouc. If you want a treat, the Leo Express trains run this route and have a NICE business class. You can book those at leoexpress.com. Trains take 2–2.5 hours each way. There are also plenty of buses along this route.

#Beautiful #Destinations #Discover #Travel #Vacation #Day #local #Prague #Trips

0 notes