Rook Question: Does your Rook have any self care routines that they keep up either at the Lighthouse or after the game?
There was a question from the Dellamorte Villa discord a while ago that reminded me - I completely forgot about this snippet for Leona š
Anyway, here it is!
Answer: Growing up around Teia and Viago certainly made Leona De Riva appreciate comfort & style. At the end of a long day, her self-care routine is to take a hot bath, slip into a comfy nightgown, and sip some hot chocolate.
Rating: T || Lucanis x Rook || crow backstory!
The parcel in her hands was neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied up with twine. The postmaster hadnāt said who it was from, only handing it to her with a gruff mumble of: āTreviso. Sent on priority.ā
Leona sniffed it suspiciously before holding it close to her ear and shaking it gently. It was suspiciously light, and at least one object inside clunked against the edges. Maybe it was a new concoction from Viago? Uncle Pietro? If it was from either of them, there was at least a decent chance that it was poisoned.
(Keeps the senses sharp, they would have said.)
Leona opened the package carefully and startled when her fingertips touched smooth silk. She brushed away a layer of thinner paper and to her surprise, found a swath of familiar blue silk within. An envelope sat delicately atop the fabric, adorned with Teiaās flowing script.
My dear Leo,
Remember that Crows do everything with style ā sleeping included. I couldnāt help but notice that awful nightshirt of yours from when we last visited.
(Andrasteās tits, I canāt even imagine how itchy that thing must have been.)
Anyway, Iāve included a few of your old sets. If you want a different one, let me know and Iāll send Jacobus over.
- T
(p.s. ā should you run into any demons in the middle of the night, you might as well look good doing it.)
She couldnāt help but smile at the memory - Viago, holding up her coarse linen nightshirt with a look of disgust and Teia, wrinkling her nose and making a comment about sending her some basic Antivan necessities.
She hated to admit it, but they were right. The threadbare nightshirt was terribly itchy, but she had been so busy she hadnāt been able to replace it. After long days of exploring and fending off Maker-knows-what, she'd lay in the dark, glaring at the ceiling as the fabric scratched against her skin.
Bad enough that she had Solas stuck in her head - now she had to be itchy too?
It was to the point where, in her most desperate moments, sheād considered tossing it aside and sleeping in her smalls. But the fear of someone barging in for some midnight emergency stopped her, and so the nightshirt remained.
Leona tugged the clothes apart, breath hitching as the soft Antivan silk fell like water in her hands. Each set contained a robe and matching nightgown that stretched down to her thighs in hues ranging from dark blue to gold. They were adorned with interesting beads and detailed embroidery: a crow soaring through starry constellations on the navy one, beams of sunlight on the gold one, and vines of intricate flowers on the green one.
Memories of shopping with Teia after each hard-fought contract, of choosing each piece with care drifted through her mind. It had been their little tradition to buy something nice after a job, a gentle reminder that if one braved tough conditions, they should be afforded a few small pleasures. And growing up around Teia and Viago had taught that lifeās pleasures were meant to be appreciated.
Viagoās approach to beauty was to look at it ā books, paintings, chocolate, anything, really ā with a keen eye. Heād explained to her once that beauty was a fascinating puzzle, and cataloguing each small, fine detail in a work of art was the best way to appreciate it.
Teia, on the other hand, taught her that beauty was a feeling, like the rush of joy one felt while looking upon a lover in the sunlight. Beauty was the swelling feeling one felt while watching falling leaves in the autumn twilight. And together, theyād taught her that beauty was seeing life in all of its grandeur.
Warmth washed over her as she draped each set on the couch. Teia had even picked her favorite ones. That alone sent joy sweeping through her chest. The soft reminder of home that whispered through her fingertips made her shoulders relax, just a little bit.
Leona placed the envelope on the couch, hanging up each set carefully in her wardrobe. Her fingers drifted over the thin straps of the green nightgown before twitching to a stop.
Wait a minute. What had Teia said in that last sentence?
She swiped the note off the tabletop, brow furrowing in confusion as she stared at the word: Demon.
What was Teia talking about? The Caretaker had assured her the Lighthouse was warded, so no demons would have been able to make it inside. Except for Spite, of course, but he was a special-
Heat bloomed across her cheeks and the indignant squeal she made echoed across the room.
She was going to have words for the Seventh Talon on her next visit.
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