Hello, I'm Erandir or Viggo. Librarian by day, fanfic author by night. Mostly I write novel-length stories about gay elves from video games. Ask me about my OCs.
Main Blog: @salmiakkivodka
A03: Erandir
Current Fandoms: Dragon Age, Baldur's Gate 3
What I'm Writing Right Now!
BG3
The Green Man and the Vampire - 24/?? Chapters
Astarion/M!Tav
A no-tadpole cozy fantasy AU about a hermit druid who stumbles upon a feral vampire spawn and adopts him like a stray cat.
I'd Give Up the Sun For You - 5/?? Chapters
Astarion/M!Tav
A game novelization alt version of The Green Man and the Vampire.
Dragon Age
In Omnibus Diis - 3/30 Chapters
Lucanis/M!Rook
Rook backstory and game novelization featuring professional bad decision maker Rori Mercar.
A Tree Falls in the Woods
Gen, Davrin/M!Rook
Various short fics about Aspen Woods: Ferelden blight survivor, Inquisition scout, Veilguard companion (or Rook sometimes).
Also: Veilguard Companion AU with full quest line.
Completed Fics
Semper ad Meliora
Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Rating: M
Pairing: Dorian/Lavellan (Idhren)
Summary: Life story of Idhren Lavellan, from slave to magister's apprentice, Dalish First to Inquisitor, and beyond.
Status: 33/33 Chapters, 230K + extras
Dragon Age Kiss Week
Overall Rating: T
Day 1: Morning - Lucanis/Rori Mercar
Day 2: Tavern - Lucanis/Rori Mercar
Day 3: Fade - Emmrich/Elias Thorne
Day 4: Famous Landmark - Dorian/Idhren Lavellan
Day 5: Battlefield - Davrin/Aspen Woods
Day 6: Reunion - Zevran/Rowan Tabris
Day 7: Celebration - Idhren Lavellan/Tainan Lavellan
there will never be anything as funny as the mutual disbelief between long form and short form fic writers about each other's style.
short form writers look at people writing 100k+ fics as though this is some sort of talent given as part of a fae bargain, that the commitment required shows some sort of ungodly mental fortitude.
meanwhile long form writers look at people writing 1000 word one shots like god I would cut off my left nipple to be able to say anything concisely. i would love to play with multiple ideas. free me from the shackles of this child I have birthed. i love them but I now must take them to t-ball and doctor's appointments and they're going to destroy everything I own.
Everyone are Fenris fans obviously. Rori & Idhren can compare their lists of Magisters Who Need to Die and strategies for such, and Rowan loves a good assassination, just tell him where to show up.
Rowan is much more on the fence about Dorian & Lucanis. Dorian being nobility makes him inherently untrustworthy, and he's heard too many horror stories about crow training from Zevran to trust Lucanis. Would take a lot for him to warm up to either of them.
Rori thinks Dorian is kind of annoying, but would pick him for Archon over Mae (sorry Mae). He only knows about Zevran from Lucanis' crow horror stories, though, so would be very distrustful. And also think he's annoying.
Idhren grew up in Vyrantium, so obviously he's a big fan of Lucanis' work. Not so sure about the literal demon, though. He's had too many demons try to kill him to not be wary. I'm not sure he would like Zevran unless he actually got to know him. He doesn't like people who put on a false persona, and a lot of Zevran's flirting is that, but if he knew what that persona was hiding he would understand.
12. If their positions were exchanged, what would they actually have done differently? How would each of them have coped?
Idhren is the only one of these 4 idiots who could possibly have managed the Inquisition. As much as he hated the politics and bureaucracy, he has the head for it. Hawke and Rori can't even keep their own lives together, let alone an international organization, and Rowan cannot politic to save his life. Poor Josephine's job would have been so much harder with any of them.
But Idhren could have handled any of the other crises because he can do anything.
Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins
Characters: Aspen Woods
Word Count: 1653
Rating: G
CW: Death of a parent
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Denerim, 9:32 Dragon
They burned his mother's body under the Vhenadahl, alongside two others, on a day as grey and dreary as Aspen's mood. It was not the first such funeral he had attended in the past months. It was not even the first funeral for someone he'd known. The tree's trunk and branches were streaked with the soot of a dozen pyres, black stains and withered leaves where there had once been bright paint and fluttering banners and flowers in the summer.
Somewhere toward the edge of the gathered crowd, someone was sobbing loudly. Wrapped around their father's leg, Juniper sniffled and hiccupped and wiped her face on his pant leg as he petted her hair with one hand and bounced Birch in the other. The baby fussed, but he was used to the sting of smoke in his eyes and lungs. Maybe remembered it better than clean air and a full stomach.
He wouldn't remember their mother at all when he was older, Aspen realized.
The smoke stung his eyes, too. Choked his throat until it was hard to breathe, but Aspen had run out of tears weeks ago. After watching his bright, energetic mother, who used to laugh and sing and dance, waste away as the blight took her, it was almost a relief to see her suffering ended. He wondered if Dad felt the same way. But when he turned his face upward, his father's expression was unreadable. Walled off as it had been with increasing frequency these days.
As though sensing his son's attention on him, Alden Woods turned to meet his gaze. And though the rest of his face was like stone, now Aspen saw the sadness behind his eyes. With the hand that had been on Juniper's head, he reached out to beckon his eldest child closer. "Come here."
Aspen did, stepping up to his father's side and allowing himself to be pulled into a rough embrace. His face pressed into his father's chest and he tried to find the scent of him underneath all the smoke. Pressed close like this, he could feel the way his father's chest quivered with each breath, and recognized the judder of suppressed cries as a reflection of his own. One of his sister's small hands grabbed at his arm. Thin, trembling fingers pulling at his hand until he squeezed hers back.
They stood there, the four of them, wrapped around each other until the pyre crumbled in on itself. No longer recognizable as anything other than a pile of slowly burning kindling. Soon to be just more ash coating the ground. Only then did his father release him, allowing Aspen to step back slightly as he reached down to take Juniper's hand. "Shall we go home?"
Aspen nodded. He didn't actually want to go home, but he didn't want to be here any longer, and he didn't want to be anywhere else, either. He wanted to be in the past, in the time before the darkspawn came and destroyed everything and made his mother sick. Before the gates were locked, before the orphanage burned and the men from Tevinter came. When there was always enough food to eat and there were only normal things to worry about, like curfew and stray dogs.
But time didn't work that way. Ma was gone, like so many others, and the city was more rubble than buildings in some places, and even the dirt was too sick to grow plants anymore. And 'home' wasn't the same place it used to be. Their old building had been damaged in the fighting, and anyway Ma wouldn't have been able to make it up all those stairs anymore. But where before Aspen and Juniper could at least sleep separate from their parents, and separate from the kitchen, now they were all crowded into a single room with only a single thin mattress that Aspen shared with both of his siblings. Until the day before there had been a second, on which his mother had spent her final days, but it had burned along with her.
The door swung closed behind what remained of the family, and Alden put down his youngest child in order to fasten the latch. For all the good that would do. The original door of this tenement had been broken in the battle, and the scavenged one was ill-fitting in its frame, with a gap so wide at one bottom corner that rats could squeeze through. The illusion of security and privacy was all that anyone in the alienage could afford these days, however. And they were lucky to have even that much.
With that illusion firmly in place, Alden sat down at one of the mismatched chairs at the rickety table. His shoulders slumped with fatigue. The same expression Aspen had seen on nearly every adult left in his life. And some of the children, too. The reason Aspen worked so hard to help however he could.
Right now, that meant helping Birch toddle over to the mattress and flop down. Tucking his baby brother into the softest of their blankets along with the little rag mabari that had somehow survived through everything.
"Aspen," his father called, soft and tired, beckoning him over to the table, where Juniper now sat on his lap - face wiped clean by a threadbare handkerchief. When Aspen reached his side, a hand reached out to ruffle his hair then pull him into another clumsy hug. "You've both been such strong saplings." His father sighed. But that was her word for them, and Dad never said it before she got sick. It sat awkwardly in his mouth. "She was so proud of you, you know that, right?" Juniper's sniffling started anew. "You especially, Aspen."
Aspen only nodded, silent. He knew that, sure, but it didn't help.
"I am too," Alden added. "I know how hard this has been for all of you. And I wish I could tell you that it's going to get easier, but I don't want to lie to you. We all have to keep being strong for a while longer. And keep each other safe, yeah?" Aspen nodded again. His father paused, as though waiting for him to say something. When Aspen did not, he sighed and continued. "The palace is paying anyone who can help with rebuilding the city. If I go and help, maybe I can get you all something better to eat, some new clothes," he smiled, trying to sound encouraging, but the effort did not last long. "But that would mean I'm gone most of the day. You three would be on your own. So I won't do that unless you two are okay with it."
Better food and new clothes sounded good. All three of them would outgrow what they had soon, and what they had was also becoming increasingly threadbare. And winter would come sooner or later. At last Aspen found his voice to speak up and say, "I can look after Birch."
"No," his father said so quickly that it startled Aspen. And then, gentler, he repeated, "No. I don't mean to put more of this on you, Aspen."
"It's fine," Aspen assured. He'd been keeping Juniper safe since the alienage's gates were locked. And already looked after Birch so their father could rest. He could keep doing that.
But Alden shook his head again. "I know you want to help, but I want you to be able to be a kid still. Like before." Before. Aspen could not see how anything would ever be like before. How could he go back to carefree playing in the streets when half his friends were dead and the other half had lost just as much as Aspen, if not more? Nothing would ever be like before. But saying so would upset his father. Worse, it would upset June. So he stayed quiet and let his father continue. "I've talked to Dehra, down the way. You know her?"
Of course Aspen knew her. The alienage wasn't that big, and it was even smaller now. Dehra was a widow even before the war, and her grown children had either moved away or died in the fight. Weren't the ones who'd gotten out going to come back for her?
"She's agreed to take care of Birch - and keep an eye on you two - while I'm working."
Aspen frowned. He didn't want to be looked after by a sad old woman whose own children didn't even want to stay with her. He wanted his mother back. Failing that, "I can do it," he insisted. "June knows how to stay safe. We can watch Birch."
His father sighed, "I know you can," he said, "But you shouldn't have to. It's not your responsibility."
But of course it was. Aspen was the oldest. Even before the world ended, he looked out for June. Played with her, let her toddle along behind him, and didn't let the bigger kids push her around. She was his baby sister, and he protected her. He would always protect her. And together they would protect Birch.
Maybe this was like telling him to stop stealing things from the market. One of those things that grown ups were supposed to say to kids even if they didn't mean it. A rule from before, meant to keep him safe in a world completely different from the one they now lived in. Those rules didn't mean anything anymore. The only thing that mattered was that no one else died the slow, lingering death his mother had. So he nodded like he agreed and that made his father smile. That tired but proud smile that seemed to be the only type he wore these days. "Good boy," he praised, large hand heavy on Aspen's small shoulder. "It's going to start getting better, I promise."
Everyone are Fenris fans obviously. Rori & Idhren can compare their lists of Magisters Who Need to Die and strategies for such, and Rowan loves a good assassination, just tell him where to show up.
Rowan is much more on the fence about Dorian & Lucanis. Dorian being nobility makes him inherently untrustworthy, and he's heard too many horror stories about crow training from Zevran to trust Lucanis. Would take a lot for him to warm up to either of them.
Rori thinks Dorian is kind of annoying, but would pick him for Archon over Mae (sorry Mae). He only knows about Zevran from Lucanis' crow horror stories, though, so would be very distrustful. And also think he's annoying.
Idhren grew up in Vyrantium, so obviously he's a big fan of Lucanis' work. Not so sure about the literal demon, though. He's had too many demons try to kill him to not be wary. I'm not sure he would like Zevran unless he actually got to know him. He doesn't like people who put on a false persona, and a lot of Zevran's flirting is that, but if he knew what that persona was hiding he would understand.
12. If their positions were exchanged, what would they actually have done differently? How would each of them have coped?
Idhren is the only one of these 4 idiots who could possibly have managed the Inquisition. As much as he hated the politics and bureaucracy, he has the head for it. Hawke and Rori can't even keep their own lives together, let alone an international organization, and Rowan cannot politic to save his life. Poor Josephine's job would have been so much harder with any of them.
But Idhren could have handled any of the other crises because he can do anything.
1, 2, and 3 for the dragon age protagonist questions!
I'm betting they have fun kicking Venatori ass together ^_^
How much does Rook know about the events and characters of previous games? Do/did they have any misconceptions about them?
Rori is aware of the events of DAO & DA2 in the sense that he learned about them as part of his history lessons. So he knows there was a blight, but that was all the way in Ferelden and he was little. And he knows the Tevinter version of what happened in Kirkwall, which probably makes the Qunari look a lot worse and Anders look a lot better. I'm sure he's surprised when he hears Varric's version and realizes how much propaganda is in the one he learned.
He knows a lot more about the Inquisition because he was both old enough to be socially aware and because of how much it effected Tevinter politics. But he probably heard so many conflicting reports and rumors that he wasn't sure what parts of it were true until meeting Varric and Harding. And then was shocked by how much of it ended up being true.
2. What does Rook think of your other protagonists?
Idhren & Rori first meet through the Shadow Dragons, though Rori doesn't know who he is at the time. So when they meet properly, Rori is understandably shocked that the random Dalish mage that helped on that one job was actually the Inquisitor all along.
While Inquisitor-Idhren is much more of a normal person than Rori expected, he is still kind of intimidating. (He's so put-together and competent compared to Rori's dumpster fire life) That combined with Rori's desperate quest for validation from pseudo-parental figures, it took him a while to relax enough to actually become friends. But once he did, yeah, they get on like a house on fire.
3. What do your other protagonists think of Rook?
Idhren's first impression of Rori is watching him stab an armed guard with a letter opener while undercover as a servant. Resourceful. Kind of a hot mess, but with potential. Kind of like Idhren used to be. He likes Rori right away and wants to see him succeed.
That's his secret protege, his adopted nephew. We started from the bottom and now we're here, killing gods and blood mages together. So proud of us. Idhren will teach him how to navigate Tevinter society now that he's famous.
I recently stumbled upon people discussing headcanons on this topic under another post and now I'm Curioise. (rbs for reach are appreciated!! and please share details in the tags I'd love to know!)
if you have multiple Rooks, vote for whoever is your main/favourite!
so why does *your* Rook wear that shoddy starting armour?
they literally just dress like that. it's their style (or lack thereof)
sold their old armour to get money while on the road
trying to look inconspicuous (of their own volition)
trying to look inconspicuous (varric and/or harding made them)
act of fashion defiance towards whoever kicked them out/solas/varric/the world
I headcanon/mod them into wearing something different (like what?)
Fanfiction is supposed to be cringy. You're allowed to write bad. You're allowed to be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be self indulgent. You're allowed to be cringe. Let yourself be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be fun. Stop putting arbitrary rules on yourself and be free.
"hey toast you stayed up past midnight because you were working on the fic and not because you were procrastinating by making a hideous pattern for a joke cross stitch" have you never met a writer before
Fandom: Dragon Age: The Veilguard
Rating: T
Relationships: Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook, Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook/Spite
I originally started writing this fic for @rookanis-week planning a silly little thing about Rori being a gay disaster (and Lucanis being kind of into it), then it turned into this exploration of their respective anxieties butting heads. Rori is still a gay disaster, though.
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Spite's eagerness was a constant pressure in the back of Lucanis' head as he made his way through the Crossroads. The demon made no secret of the fact that he found Lucanis' new First Talon duties dull as dishwater.
If he were perfectly honest, Lucanis did not disagree, though he would be hard pressed to admit such. Prying the reins away from Caterina was a task both futile and potentially fatal, and Lucanis was more than happy to let her keep her grasp for as long as she liked. The politics of wrangling the other Talons into line was not his strong suit, and approving potential contracts was far less interesting than executing them.
Boring! Spite complained endlessly. And his mounting frustration with those aspects of their position was exactly the excuse that Lucanis needed to escape from Caterina's tutelage. If only for an evening.
Want to see. Rook!
"That's where we're going," Lucanis reminded him, tempering his own excitement in the process as he stepped off the Caretaker's gondola onto the island where the Lighthouse eluvian sat.
Voices drifted down from the library as soon as Lucanis stepped out of the eluvian room. He recognized Bellara's bright chatter filling the air, punctuated when she stopped to breathe by Neve's dry-but-amused drawl, and then a bark of laughter that he would recognize anywhere.
If he climbed the last few stairs a little faster, well, he could blame that on Spite.
The low table at the center of the room was strewn with playing cards, news pages, and half-empty cups alongside a wine bottle with no label. The trio sat around it, dressed down, as they all became accustomed to in the Lighthouse's safety. It was not unusual to find some collection of their companions here at any hour of the day, but tonight his friends were seated on the floor, amidst what appeared to be every blanket and pillow in the Lighthouse. Though why they would have done such a thing when there were multiple perfectly good chairs beside them, Lucanis did not understand.
None of them noticed his arrival at first. Engrossed in their discussion. And for that moment, Lucanis was happy to merely watch. And listen, as finally he caught enough of the conversation to understand its topic.
"I really can't think of many situations less romantic than a stake-out," Neve was saying. "It's dark and cold and usually raining. You're far more worried about getting caught, or losing your target, than about whoever is sitting next to you."
Bellara sighed as she looked down at the sheaf of papers in front of her. "But if it's dark and cold, that's a great excuse to cuddle, isn't it?"
"In another situation, I'd agree with you," Neve said, "I just think they'd be more worried about the potential danger than getting handsy. Back me up here, Rook."
Rook - Rori - shrugged where he sat cross-legged on the floor. He was wrapped in the reds and whites that were his typical preference, bright even in the library's dim atmosphere. Loose pants and a long tunic, sides slit up to the waist. But he had foregone today the long-sleeved undershirt that usually accompanied such an outfit, leaving his arms completely bare. Under the cool light of the astrolabe spinning lazily above them, his dappled skin was mahogany inlaid with silver.
"I don't know," he mused, "Might not be so bad somewhere it's not pissing rain all the time. But I agree they should be focused on the job or—," But whatever he was going to say next was cut off as he shoved the unruly waves of his hair out of his face, and then his eyes met Lucanis'. The wry quirk of his mouth spread into a grin. "Lucanis!"
The two women also turned to him, but Lucanis was only peripherally aware of their attention. It was hard enough to tear his eyes off of Rori on a good day, but near impossible when his face lit up like that as he scrambled to his feet and nearly tripped over himself in his rush to pull Lucanis into a rib-crushing hug. "Careful," he chuckled, arms sliding around Rori's narrow waist partly to steady him, but mostly because he'd missed the press of a warm body against his own. The way they fit into each other's arms.
In the back of his mind, Spite was practically purring, and he had to resist the urge to press his whole face into the lavender and honey scent of Rori's hair.
Later, he promised silently. When they didn't have an audience.
"I wasn't expecting you," Rori said, breathless with surprise, when he finally relinquished his grip on Lucanis - but only just. "I thought you were busy."
"I was," Lucanis began. Or at least, that was what Caterina kept telling him. But now that he was here, with Rori looking at him like that, he could not remember why he'd let her keep him away so long. In the back of his mind, Spite sneered smug 'told-you-so's until Lucanis had no choice but to acknowledge that, in this one instance only, the demon was right. "It was rather last-minute," he explained, to shut his demon up. Then he looked over Rori's shoulder at the unusual tableau on display. The cluttered table, the strange collection of bedding. "What are you all doing?"
"We're having girls' night!" Bellara exclaimed.
Which only increased Lucanis' confusion. He turned to Rori and stated the obvious: "You are not a girl."
"Girls' night is a state of mind," Rori replied without missing a beat.
"Neve is letting us borrow her nail varnish," Bellara announced.
"And Bellara's going to re-pierce my ears," Rori added. "You should join us!"
Lucanis hesitated. He supposed it had been too much to hope for a quiet evening with Rori, what with their friends all coming and going from the Lighthouse at all hours. "I would not want to intrude."
Rori's grin faded the tiniest bit. "You're not intruding. We're inviting you." But he took a step back, putting a more polite distance between them, and glanced over his shoulder to ask, "Right, guys?"
"Of course," Neve assured, at the exact same time that Bellara said, "Yeah! It'll be fun!"
They all certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves and excited about their plans for the evening. Which made Lucanis feel like he was intruding and being incredibly rude because of it. And besides, he was not certain that he had the correct state of mind for such lively festivities. Surely he would just put a damper on things. As usual. "Perhaps later," he offered, "I need a moment."
For only the length of a heartbeat, Rori's face fell further, before he quickly schooled his expression into something pleasant and emotionless. But close as they were, Lucanis had caught it. And he had spent enough time finding the cracks in Rori's poker face to see them now. "Sure. Of course. You're probably tired, right?" Somehow, this false casualness made Lucanis feel worse than if Rori had been openly disappointed. He'd thought they were past this. The pretending. But then again, Lucanis was guilty of the same. Old habits were hard to break. "Go ahead," he leaned forward to press a kiss to Lucanis' cheek, which offered another tempting whiff of lavender and honey. "But you're welcome to join us whenever. If you want. Spite too."
"I will keep that in mind," Lucanis assured him. He tried to give Rori a reassuring smile - tried to communicate that he did want to spend time together, just didn't want to ruin his plans with Neve and Bellara - but he wasn't sure it worked. So he squeezed Rori's hand as he returned the kiss and told him to "Have fun," before slipping away.
Stupid Lucanis! Spite hollered as soon as the library door thudded shut behind them. Loud enough to make Lucanis wince. Made Rook sad!
"He is fine," Lucanis argued. "They will have more fun without us."
Lies, the demon hissed.
Lucanis ignored him - or tried to - as he made his way across the courtyard. Toward the familiar comfort of the kitchen. The lamps inside flickered to life as he stepped through the door, adding more light to the warm glow of the ever-burning fireplace. He was pleased to see the kitchen in much the same condition he'd left it on his last visit, though the supplies were diminished.
We came. To see. Rook. Spite kept complaining. It was getting harder to tune him out, but Lucanis did his best. It helped to have something else to focus on, so he began rooting through the pantry to see what might be put together. Unless Bellara had made anything - and the kitchen was far too clean for that - then they were drinking that mystery wine on empty stomachs. That was not something that Lucanis could allow.
And it would prove a good excuse to check in on them in a little while.
In the back of his mind, Spite moaned in frustrated annoyance, and the familiar violet apparition flickered in the corners of Lucanis' eyes. As usual, the demon was privy to the inner workings of his mind even when Lucanis did not voice them.
"Rori will come find us when he's finished his business with Neve and Bellara," Lucanis insisted, certain that it would happen and hopeful that saying so would pacify Spite for at least a short while.
He should have known better by now.
Find Rook now, the demon whined, Don't wait. We were invited. I want. Girls Night.
"You don't even know what that means."
Don't care, Spite said stubbornly. More fun than you. Lucanis is never fun. I want to see Rook!
Lucanis felt the demon attempt to wrest control of their body away from him. A sudden stiffness in his muscles and an increased pressure in his head. Sensations that had once terrified him, but that were now little more than an annoyance. Spite did these things now to make a point, to ensure that his displeasure was known when words were not enough, not out of malice or a desire to cause Lucanis pain. So it was easy enough to wrest back control after the demon felt he'd made his point. Easy, but still unpleasant. Lucanis did not think that he would ever get used to not being the sole occupant of his own head. "Stop that!" he scolded, squeezing his eyes closed against the looming threat of a headache. "I told you, we'll see him later."
Now! Spite protested, flexing briefly under Lucanis' skin once more. You want Rook too, he accused.
"It's not that simple."
Would be. But Lucanis is stupid. Spite snarled at him. We want. To see Rook. Rook wants. To see us. So why. Are we not. With Rook?
A demon should never sound so reasonable. Should never make Lucanis feel like the irrational one in this partnership. And yet here they were.
Ironically, everything had been so much simpler when all he had to worry about was Spite, and the Gods, and staying alive for one more day. When Rori was always there, and there were no other responsibilities to keep them apart. Now everything was complicated. Between Lucanis' business with the Crows and Rori aiding recovery efforts in Minrathous - and everywhere else - they were hardly ever in the same place. And though Lucanis' feelings had not changed, and he did not get the impression that Rori's had, either, he found that he was never quite certain where they stood. Whether these fleeting moments were enough, or would continue to be enough.
Stupid, stupid, Lucanis! Spite bemoaned at the mere impression of these thoughts.
"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Lucanis shot back. Of course, this did absolutely nothing to lessen the demon's annoyance. Lucanis could feel Spite's growing irritation in time with his own. Feeding off each other until eventually one of them would be forced to break. Usually Lucanis. And this time, apparently, was no different. Even the detail-focused task of cooking wasn't enough to fully distract him from Spite's ongoing tantrum. The pressure behind his eyes - from Spite's continued attempts at wresting control in addition to the sheer volume of his shouting - continued to build until he could stand it no longer and threw down his kitchen knife in defeat.
"Enough!" Lucanis' shout echoed off the rafters of the otherwise empty kitchen. Startling himself more than anything. An unpleasant reminder of exactly the point his demon was trying to make: he was alone here, hiding in the kitchen, instead of with the people he cared about. And why? Spite was right. He wanted to be with them. With Rori. What was he so afraid of? "Fine," he relented at last. Spite's smug sense of victory flooded through him, but he couldn't bring himself to be angry. "Just let me finish this first."
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Half an hour later, changed into something more suitable for sitting on the floor and bearing a plate of freshly fried vegetable fritters and sauce Lucanis made his way back toward the library. Trying desperately to keep his pace casual and his thoughts steady. So as not to further encourage Spite's smug gloating.
The library doors opened without a touch and with barely a sound, as always. He always expected it to be cooler inside. The way stepping out of Antiva's bright sun into the shadow of a building would be in the real world. But the Lighthouse was not beholden to such common laws and maintained the same comfortable temperature inside and out.
It was Neve who spotted him first this time. "Well, look who's back," she said, hiding a smile behind her wineglass.
The speed at which Rori turned to look over his shoulder was almost enough to unseat him. "Lucanis!" His hair was now pulled back into an attempt at a ponytail. It wasn't quite long enough, though, and most of the curls about his face had fallen free. But enough was fixed back that for once there was an unobscured view of his ears. And the small, glimmering gold loops that now decorated them.
They suited him. Even from a distance and in the library's dim light. The gold stood out against his olive skin and the dark fall of his hair.
"And he brought snacks!" Bellara enthused, pulling Lucanis back out of his thoughts.
"Of course he did," Neve drawled.
Rori’s eyes flicked down to the plate in Lucanis’ hand, but only for a second before settling on his face again. “Are you going to join us?” He asked, all brightness and hope, and Spite stirred at the back of Lucanis’ mind. The demon did not even need to say anything to make his point known,
“I… could,” Lucanis offered, trying to couch both his and Spite’s expectations as he approached the table. “If you’d like me to.”
A chorus of affirmative responses filled the room, but despite the enthusiasm, what really convinced him was when, as he leaned over to set down his offering, Rori’s hand caught his sleeve. “Please?” His lover beseeched, looking up at him. The light of the astrolabe was just barely bright enough to catch the green flecks in his eyes, which it had taken Lucanis so long to notice in the first place.
"If you're sure," Lucanis demurred even as he was already lowering himself to the floor at Rori's side.
"I am," was the firm response. "Besides, Neve brought the newest chapter of that serial. The one with the thief and the conman. You liked that one, yeah?"
Oh, that did pique his interest. "I didn't realize it was out already."
"Technically, it goes out in tomorrow's broadsheets," Neve informed, with the sort of self-satisfied pride usually reserved for a case-making clue. "But I wasn't sure when we'd see Bell next, and the printer owed me a favor."
Lucanis couldn't quite contain the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Neve Gallus calling in her favors to give gifts. And she called him a sap.
"We should read it now that Lucanis is here!" Bellara suggested, nearly vibrating in her seat from the effort of restraining herself. "I want to know how Oliver reacts when he discovers that Marcel has been lying about who he is this whole time."
"Do we have another wine glass?" Rori asked rather than answer. A brief glance around the room turned up nothing. "Never mind, Lucanis can share mine." Without waiting to see if this was alright - it was - he plucked up his nearly-empty glass and the half-empty bottle at his side. The amount that he poured before pressing it into Lucanis' hands would raise eyebrows at even Crow parties.
"What is this you're drinking?" Lucanis asked, eyeing the cup curiously.
"Not sure," Rori shrugged. "I took it out of some dead magister's basement."
"It's probably worth a fortune," Neve speculated.
Just as likely it was worth nothing at all. But it smelled fine, and when Lucanis took an experimental sip he had to acknowledge that it was probably closer to priceless than worthless. Tevene wines had never been his preference - too sweet - but this one was not overly so. It seemed the sort of thing a magister might serve guests. Or, judging by the absence of any type of label, keep to themselves.
Thankfully, he was saved from having to share his thoughts on the vintage - unlikely as it was that anyone present cared. Bellara had gathered together several of the broadsheet pages spread across the table and now held them in front of her as though she might explode if not soon allowed to read them. "Go on, then," Neve said with a wave of her hand, "I'm sure we're all just as eager to hear what happens."
That was almost certainly a lie, though it was all the encouragement Bellara needed. Unfortunately, a skilled storyteller she was not. Her eyes took in the words faster than her mouth could get them out until she stumbled over them, then, in her excitement, she would pause to add commentary or theorize as to the character's thoughts. It made the story difficult for Lucanis to follow, and at times he was not certain what parts were actually written and which were commentary. Probably he would have to read the new chapter again on his own. Neve did not seem at all put off by this, sipping at her wine and making all the appropriate exclamations at all the appropriate times. Though knowing her, she enjoyed the added level of confusion added by Bellara's unique version of the tale. And Rori, well, Lucanis was pretty sure that Rori was not even listening.
Of course, he was also certain that Rori didn't enjoy this particular serial. Even less than he enjoyed the rest. Something about the conman character rubbed him the wrong way, and knowing what he did of Rori's pre-Shadow Dragon employment, Lucanis had decided it was best not to ask. But even multiple glasses of wine in - Lucanis was more than happy to let him monopolize their shared glass - he still managed to follow Neve's cues well enough to hum thoughtfully or gasp at enough of the right times to seem like he was paying attention. Even as more and more of his weight leaned against Lucanis' shoulder by the minute.
Which made it that much harder for Lucanis to focus on the story being told. Seated on the floor as they were, Rori's knee pressed against his below the table. Even before he began listing sideways, his arm and shoulder brushed Lucanis' whenever he moved to take the wine glass, or a bite of food, or fidget with his hair, or laugh, or breathe. And, of course, whenever Lucanis did similar. Those brief touches grew gradually longer and, occasionally, more intentional, until Rori's bare shoulder leaned fully against his. Then his head fell onto Lucanis' shoulder. The sweetly herbal scent of his hair oil drifted up, stronger if Lucanis turned his head. Which he tried not to do. In part because the scent was distracting, but also because Spite had decided to manifest himself at Rori's other side.
After the fit the demon threw in the kitchen, he was being suspiciously quiet now that they were here. He sniffed at the wine and the food and the broadsheets, curiously examined the pillows and forgotten bottles of nail varnish, and when he got bored with that, he settled into his current spot at Rori's side and watched the elf get gradually more tipsy. And announcing, when Lucanis dared to indulgently lean just slightly into the warmth of Rori's body, Smells like wine and honey. And then, with a smugness that he'd been projecting since they left the kitchen, Told you. Rook wants us.
Lucanis felt his cheeks grow warm in response to that particular choice of phrasing and could only hope that no one else in the room noticed as he shot a glare to where the demon was seated and hissed a low, "Be quiet."
Rori shifted against him, made a soft, confused sound, then lifted his head slightly to ask, "Did Spite say something?"
Mierda. Bellara's dialogue stopped, and all eyes in the room turned to him. Them. The demon's shift in demeanor from bored interest to ardent glee at merely being acknowledged was so sudden and powerful that Lucanis almost couldn't feel his own embarrassed annoyance underneath. But no power in the world could induce him to repeat those particular words. "Nothing of consequence."
"Does Spite even like books?" Bellara asked, her attention now thoroughly divided, "He never said anything in book club, did he?"
"No," Lucanis confirmed. The only time Spite had seemed even remotely interested in fictional tales was the one time he'd managed to convince Rori to read aloud. He was fairly certain that it had more to do with Rori than with the book.
"Oh," Bellara seemed almost disappointed to hear this, though Lucanis wasn't sure why she would be. Even if Spite were interested, it seemed unlikely that the demon would have anything interesting or relevant to say. "Well, if he changes his mind, let us know."
Unlikely, but Lucanis assured her that he would.
Blessedly, all attention turned back to the story once more as Bellara resumed reading. But the interruption had thrown off her concentration, and Rori was not the only one getting more drunk as the evening wore on. Whenever she paused long enough to breathe, Bellara also took the moment to whet her throat with a mouthful of wine. As a result, she tripped over her words even more often, and her already scattered train of thought became even more difficult to follow.
It was a relief when she finished and, after a brief moment to gush about the story, the conversation turned to more mundane topics.
Hearing what his friends were getting up to as the world began to recover from the gods' destruction was more interesting than the supposed drama of the serial, actually. And a nice break from the tedious First Talon duties that had been consuming his own life. He would much rather be helping Neve and Rori track down the last stragglers of Venatori who had gone into hiding - and so would Spite. Even the immense project of properly mapping the Crossroads that Bellara had embarked upon sounded preferable to the paperwork and politics of a position he'd never wanted in the first place.
Even that conversation began to wind down, along with their stock of mystery wine, as the hands on the bookshelf clock passed midnight and began their journey toward morning - morning in Minrathous, at least. Bellara was the first to drop, collapsing onto a pile of cushions as fatigue and alcohol took their toll, and asleep the next time anyone looked.
The bottle that Rori - and ostensibly Lucanis - had been drinking ran dry. This was discovered when Rori attempted to refill their glass and knocked over first the empty cup and then the bottle when he reached for it.
"I think perhaps you have had enough wine for the evening," Lucanis observed. "Is there anything you need to do tomorrow?"
"Only you." The words slipped out of Rori's mouth too loud, drawing a snort of amusement from Neve that caused Lucanis' cheeks to burn.
"Yes, you've definitely had enough," he decided for both of them.
"That came out wrong," Rori defended himself, but he allowed Lucanis to pull an arm over his shoulder and help him to his feet. Neve was stifling her laughter now, and Spite was cackling with glee at Lucanis' embarrassment. "I just meant," he continued to babble as Lucanis looked down at the tangle of blankets on the floor and wondered if he should drag any of those along with them, "That I'm excited to see you. And if you don't have to go back to Crow stuff right away we should do something. Hang out. I missed you."
"I know," Lucanis replied, cheeks still burning. And if that was the direction this evening, or the following day, took, he was not opposed. Just didn't want it announced to the world. "I missed you, too," he murmured. "And no, I don't have to go back right away." This was a lie. But the Crows had survived without him for over a year, they could manage themselves for a day or two. Especially if it made Rori grin like that, eyes as bright as his new earrings.
Neve, despite her amusement, took pity on him. Grabbing up two blankets, she folded them into a hasty bundle and held them out like a peace offering. "You boys have fun, then," she said with a wink that only made Lucanis' cheeks burn hotter, "I'll take care of Bell."
With the blankets in one arm and the other keeping Rori upright, Lucanis steered them toward the stairs and up into the meditation room where Rori was still living. It was not a difficult task. Rori was not so drunk as to be stumbling about, unable to keep his feet, and surely would have been fine on his own without Lucanis, but he seemed pleased to lean into Lucanis' shoulder all the same.
The meditation room, when they finally pushed through the door, was exactly as it always had been. The wardrobe in the corner with the coffee maker beside it - a late addition to the sparse decor. The picture window's underwater seascape was easier to bear every time, so that by now Lucanis hardly noticed it at all. And across from that, the same familiar chaise, bathed in the room's pale, ever-shifting light.
The only thing that had changed since the fall of the gods, as far as Lucanis could tell, was that small table, previously the focal point of the room, now cleared of its many candles and shoved to the side. The only indication of its previous purpose was a collection of wax stains across its top.
"I cannot believe you still don't have a proper bed," Lucanis muttered as he deposited Rori onto the sofa, where he immediately slumped onto the armrest as though Lucanis had been the only thing keeping him upright. "After waxing poetic about the beds at the villa."
"I don't wax poetic," Rori protested without any real strength.
Lucanis did not dignify that protest with a response as he sat down on the other end of the couch to take off his boots. For a while, silence filled the room. He still always expected to hear the muffled sound of the ocean behind the window. But of course it wasn't a real ocean, only an illusion behind glass.
"I'm glad you decided to join us."
Looking up after setting his boots aside at the end of the sofa, Lucanis saw that Rori had pushed himself upright enough that he was now listing against the chaise back, rather than the arm. His head fell sideways to rest along the top, and though his hair was rebelling against the pins valiantly attempting to hold it back, still enough of those riotous curls were tucked behind his ears that his new earrings were visible, catching the room's shifting light to cast tiny, dancing reflections against the corner of his jaw.
"I was not certain I would be welcome," Lucanis admitted. "I know you did not plan for my being here tonight."
Rori sat up so quickly that he nearly overbalanced, but managed to catch himself with a hand on the cushion between them. "Of course you'd be welcome!" he declaimed, as though insulted by the mere suggestion. "You're always welcome. I thought..." He cut himself off, eyes darting away. "I should've been clearer, asking you to stay."
It was vanishingly rare for Rori to get even this close to an apology. Meek and deferential were not emotions that he wore well, nor that Lucanis liked to see on him. But then, it was not the first time he had suddenly turned into this lesser version of himself where their relationship was concerned. Was it the alcohol or something else making Rori act this way? "Why didn't you ask me, then?" Lucanis urged.
Rori did not answer right away. He watched a school of illusory fish swim across the window and wound a stray curl of dark hair around one finger. "I know you don't always like company," he said at last, "And I didn't want you to feel obligated. Dax always said I was too clingy."
Spite growled in the back of Lucanis' mind, and on this matter they were in perfect agreement. He only knew of Rori's past relationship through tiny glimpses like this, but none of those glimpses hinted at anything good. And clingy? Certainly Rori was physically affectionate with the people he cared about, but the idea that someone who professed to love him would find that objectionable was absurd. And Lucanis was not the only one who thought so, judging by the way Spite pressed up against his awareness and into his mouth until Lucanis relinquished control.
"He was. Wrong."
Rori's head whipped back around to look at them, caught off guard by this response. Or maybe just who it came from. His piece said, Spite retreated again, but not entirely. Even at his most withdrawn, Lucanis could feel the demon at the very edges of his perception - the prickle of being watched from afar, a shadow at the corner of his eyes that never quite came into focus - but more commonly he remained present like someone hovering constantly over Lucanis' shoulder or, as he'd been most of this evening, seated at his side. That was where he chose to be now. A not-quite-solid, not-quite-human figure crouched on the floor and watching them with simmering displeasure.
"I agree with Spite," Lucanis said. The demon would gloat about this evening for ages, but that couldn't be helped.
For a moment longer, Rori continued to stare at him, before a sound escaped his lips that was somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, and he doubled over until his face nearly touched the cushions - nearly touched Lucanis' thigh. "We're both idiots, aren't we?" he mumbled, audible only because of the silence in the room.
Yes.
"It would appear so."
Slowly, Rori uncurled himself. That stray curl he'd been worrying at fell in front of his eyes and he attempted to tuck it back behind a pointed ear, only for it to fall forward again almost immediately. "I do always want to spend time with you," he said, with an earnestness that was uncharacteristic and almost painful. "And Spite."
"I'm sure he will not let me forget again," Lucanis assured him. "You can always come see me in Treviso," he suggested, though he knew the answer already.
"I get lost in your house," he complained, which was patently false. He navigated Minrathous' alleys, Treviso's rooftops, and the ever-shifting wilderness of Arlathan with ease. He could figure out the villa. "And I'm always scared I'll turn a corner and your grandmother will be there." Now that was a realistic fear. "Besides, who would feed the cats?"
And there was the truth of it. "Who is feeding the cats now?"
"I fed them before we left."
Of course he did. Lucanis sighed. But he would not complain. Rori's presence in Treviso would make his own duties easier to bear, he thought, but more likely make Rori just as miserable as he was. He knew how important it was to Rori that he help repair the damage done to his city. That he still believed himself partly responsible. Lucanis would never ask him to give that up. "Then could you at least ask the Caretaker to give you a proper bed?"
Rori laughed, head thrown back in joy. "If that will make you visit more often," he replied. "And if you'll help me break it in."
Heat flooded Lucanis' face again at the suggestion and the way Rori's voice dropped low as he said it. But he couldn't say 'no.'
I love how the notes for this are just chock full of examples of the most batshit specific things people research for their fanfics. Truly a treasure trove.
