They didn't let Solas interact with Kieran in dai bc he'd smell the June on him and have a melt down thinking about their own parallels and also Kieran would doxx him on fantasy roblox by accident
The Chantry calendar marks time by Ages, with each age being 100 years long. Before the conclusion of an Age, the scholars of the Chantry come together to name the next one, based on predictions of what the next 100 years will bring.
Corrections: Although the specifics are a little ambiguous, each Age does in fact begin at year 00, with the exception of the Divine Age. The period before 1:1 Divine is actually called the Ancient Era.
(descriptions were taken from The World of Thedas, Volume I)
I'm making the almost kiss messier, for me (okay technically this is a few days after, but close enough) if you don't like the idea of Spite being into the Rookanis relationship, maybe don't read this lol
Summary: Spite tries to help. Things might be worse now. (just kissing and little touches, very pg, lot of yearning tho)
Word Count: 1705
She stood numbly before the pantry door, her heart in her throat. An air of guilt hung heavy around her shoulders. She had tried to give him space, busying herself by helping Taash and Bellara outside the Lighthouse. Things had felt so fragile and she was almost petrified that she had egged him into doing something he didn't want. But she wanted to visit Treviso and it felt wrong to go without at least inviting him. So she tentatively raised her hand and knocked gingerly on the door.
“Lucanis?”
There was a quiet shuffle from inside, but it was brief. She cracked the door slightly, unsure. If he was properly resting, she didn't want to ruin that. He was perched on the cot, slumped back against the wall. A cup was cradled in his lap, fingers slack. Had he fallen asleep halfway through a cup of coffee? She couldn't help the fond smile that tugged at her lips. He'd make a mess if he startled awake. She slipped silently inside, the door closing quietly behind her. With soft steps, she padded to his side and paused.
She had reasoned the intrusion with the idea of moving the cup then seeing herself out, but now that she was close she seemed to freeze. His shoulders rose with each breath, slow and peaceful. The heavy bags under his eyes were more obvious from this close and even though he was finally, finally sleeping, the exhaustion hung heavily from his features. She wanted to ghost feather touches along his jaw, card her fingers through his hair, press gentle kisses to his skin, anything to coax the stress from him. Her hand started to reach for his cheek, unbidden, before she caught herself. Grinding her teeth in frustration at the desire, she turned the motion to the cup. Her fingers had barely brushed the dish when his hand suddenly wrapped tightly around her wrist. He moved so quickly she almost screamed, her instinct to jump backwards halted only by his iron grip.
“Rook.” Her moniker curled from his mouth with Spite's low voice.
Her heart skipped a beat, wincing as the demon pulled her closer. “Hello Spite.” She smiled nervously. “Your grip hurts a little, could you… be gentler, maybe?”
Their eyes narrowed, mulling over the suggestion just long enough for her to worry he'd leave bruises on her skin. And then the pressure lightened, still firm, but measured now. “Rook is. Trespassing.”
“I…” Her mind raced to find an excuse before she sighed. “Yup. Sure am.”
A wide, toothy grin spread across their lips. “Good. We can talk.” And then he was scowling, an annoyed growl rumbling free. “Lucanis has been. Hiding. Avoiding. Won’t explain anything.”
She could feel heat rushing to her cheeks. “O-oh, I don't know if I…”
“Rook will explain.”
It didn't sound like a request, but neither did it feel like a demand. It was more just… an expectation. An understanding that she was simply someone who would answer his questions. It left her a little dumbstruck. Explaining to the demon the intricacies of messy mortal relationships didn't thrill her, but it would be a bigger fight to try and escape. And maybe she'd get some answers herself.
“I can try.” She offered slowly. “Emotions are complicated.”
“Rook will know.” His words had more bite to them this time, grip squeezing. “You will. Stay close. Need to show.”
A thrill of alarm shot through her, heart hammering against her ribs. It felt like a bad idea. “Alright, but… let me find something to sit on. Being hunched like this is uncomfortable.” When he didn't move she offered up a wane smile. “I won't run. I promise.”
He let out a displeased hum, but let her go. She did snatch the cup as she stepped back, placing it on the little side table before she turned to assess the pantry. With only a little sigh, she dragged a crate to the cot and sat down primly. Spite closed the distance in an instant, face close and eyes bright. Nerves had set her hands to trembling, unease curling in her stomach, but she kept her face placid.
“Why does Lucanis. Refuse himself?” He asked suddenly, voice low. When she only offered him baffled blinks he almost snarled, bringing their hand to caress her cheek. “He thinks. Of touching Rook. Like this.” Their thumb traced the line of her jaw, a little rougher than she would have expected, but it set her heart fluttering all the same. “Always wants to touch. So many different ways.” The wandering motion dragged their palm across her cheek, leaving a trail of warmth before their fingers tangled in her hair, holding her in place. “Wants to be close. Thinks of it. Constantly. So why does he not?”
She could feel the flush creeping up to her cheeks. “Only Lucanis can really answer that. I'll only have guesses.”
That did earn her a frustrated growl. Her heart was back in her throat at the noise and Spite was narrowing their eyes again. A dangerous grin slowly crawled across their face. Spite brought their free hand up to tug her hair free from the pins that held it in place. She didn't dare move as it cascaded to her shoulders, barely daring to breathe. He dragged their fingers through her hair, trapping a lock and pulling it to their lips.
“Like fresh blood. Fire dancing in the hearth. Warmth in the bones.” He purred.
A strangled noise was all she could offer. Both hands cupped her face, trapping her gaze with his purple blaze. They were so, so close again. Her breath hitched.
“Storms at sea. Sun through glass. Sharp edge of knives.”
He bent their face to the crook of her neck, beard ghosting along her skin. She shivered. Their breath was warm and it felt like the ground disappeared from under her feet. The world reduced to the space between them, a sliver of distance barely maintained.
“Red berries and jasmine. Dizzyingly sweet. Smells of desire.”
That sent an electric spark through her veins, her pulse jumping. She shouldn't be hearing this. The urge to run screamed through her, but Spite had placed a hand on the side of her throat. Their fingers were tangled again in her hair, their wrist pressing down on her shoulder, and that single weight felt crushing. She couldn't move. Their free hand traced the pointed edge of her ear.
“Lucanis wants. So does Rook. Can smell it. Hear it. Feel it.” He brought their face back to hers, head tilted, lips hovering over hers. “Yet you both. Refuse. Why?”
She swallowed thickly, her voice hoarse and wavering. “Fear.”
That seemed to give him pause, though he didn't retreat an inch. “Of what?”
“Expectations.” The words fell unbidden, rasping whispers. “Disappointment. Pain. Misunderstanding. There's… so much that surrounds feelings like this.”
Their brow furrowed as he digested the idea. The moment felt like it stretched on forever under their caging grasp. And then she watched as he dismissed the thought. “Needless. Solution is simple.”
The distance disappeared before the alarm could settle in her bones. Spite's kiss was a hungry need, clumsy but forceful. He moved their other hand from her ear to her cheek, trapping her completely. It would have made her laugh if she had been able to form a thought. Part of her was screaming to run, of course, but the other part simply felt relief. A need finally answered, content to exist in the bruising kiss for eternity. She clawed at their chest, grabbing a fistful of their shirt, but wasn't able to bring herself to push them away or pull them closer. The sharp bite of teeth ripped a gasp from her, more surprise than anything, and Spite finally relented. When he leaned back, he had a wolfish grin as he licked blood from their lips.
“Simple.” He purred.
And then his presence vanished like smoke in the wind and she was left being held by a Lucanis who was struggling to take it all in. His eyes staggered over her loose hair, the deep flush to her skin, and her wide eyes. Her breaths were too fast, shoulders shivering. He could taste iron on his tongue and something else, something new. They stared at each other, both petrified, before the curse finally slipped from his lips, quiet and wondering.
“Mierda.”
It seemed to startle them both, his hands leaping away from her as if he had been burned. She stumbled backwards off the crate, pushing her bangs out of her eyes just to have something to do with her hands. Her gaze was focusing anywhere but on him, unwilling to see the look on his face. Would it be horror, or want? It felt like both would break her heart right now.
“Rook,” his voice was staggering, uncertain, “I-”
“Sorry,” she cut in sharply, a nervous laugh coloring her words. “I just- Spite had questions and I- Sorry.” She took a clumsy step towards the door. “I think… I need air.”
It was her turn to run, stumbling past the tables and chairs. She didn't stop until the dining room doors were closed firmly behind her. Pressing her back to them, she slid to a crouch. Head in hands, she took gulping, shivering breaths. There was a knot in her chest, a confusion of emotions. She had wanted that from Lucanis, but she liked it from Spite, too. That caused a worrying flip in her stomach. She did not want to pick that feeling apart right now. Shaking fingers dabbed at her lips, feeling the shallow cut the demon had made. The bastard left a reminder for her. It caused her to groan, pressing her palms against her eyes.
“Rook?”
Her head shot up in alarm at Bellara’s voice. The elf was paused at the bottom of the walkway to Neve’s room, a bundle of papers clutched to her chest. She took a tentative step forward as Rook shot to her feet.
“Are you okay? You look… Did Lucanis do-”
“No!” She cut in sharply, launching herself from the doors and almost running past the Jumper. “That was not Lucanis.”
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