Mar 22, 2025
Counting Crows
details on crows under the cut
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Counting Crows
details on crows under the cut
One for Sorrow - @no1lucanispegger's Mirevas Two for Mirth - Ayden (mine) Three for a wedding - @hightowerqueen's Beata Four for a birth - @orangeandclover's Rosalind Five for silver - @lucaniseyebrowlicker's Viola Six for gold - @classicleechaos's Chiara Seven for a secret ne'er to be told - @theesteppenwolf's Esha Eight for heaven - @marvelous-goose's Matteo Nine for hell - @ittybi's Everin and of course Viago de Riva himself
OCkissfreedom sketches compilation 🧡
[playing along] Javi & @howdy-for-archon 's Fintan
[cheek] Everin & @nonagesimus 's Ayden
[domestic] Javi & @pegging-fictional-men 's Mirevas
[fingers] Everin & @classicleechaos 's Chiara
[lips] Everin & @lucaniseyebrowlicker 's Viola
❝ My gracious lord, I tender you my service. ❞ - Revas
“Of course !” he exclaims, with a laughing, callous charm. He waves an impatient arm forward, naked flesh of the god pulled tight over lean muscle. A lanky creature, really, a build not meant for imposition. It does not seem divine.
He has spoken to her, but he does not truly see her. His gaze is elsewhere, cast aside upon more interesting things, upon the songbirds perched by the open balcony, the sunlight streaming through the colonnade. He throws an elbow over the back of his settee, freshly cleaned and relishing the delicious taste of the warm air on his skin, the sweet freedom of the day.
Heist
New AU? New AU.
Some world building: Fusion of magic and technology. Mages exist, but this is set in a sort of hybrid of future tech and magic. Not modern or ancient, but futuristic with magic!
Darevas and Felasel belong to @selenelavellan
Cirimeni belongs to @justanartsysideblog
Falon’din and the other Evanuris mentioned belong to @feynites
Minor Falon’din warning.
The Evanuris Museum Exposition. A beautiful building dedicated to the stolen wealth of the most powerful elven family in all of Thedas. Tall and white with energy running through it as the T1-AN Core makes its world debut as a reliable, and limitless, energy source. The Core sits in the main atrium of the building, though it needs no sun to power itself, Miriel knows that it casts a beautiful glow through the halls when it mingles with sunlight. It is as much an art installation as a power source.
As fascinating as the Core is, it is not her target tonight. Oh no, that would be too predictable, and impractical given her supplies. The Core is massive, weighing over five tons, and filled with so much energy that improper handling could not only kill her, but level everything in a ten mile radius. Miriel is a thief, not a murderer.
Miriel’s target, or rather targets, are smaller but just as worthy. Everyone will be expecting a move on the Core tonight, which makes other targets that much more appealing. After all, they don’t need the Core itself - just the blueprints on how it works. But that is late game, right now is just a game.
“We’re in position,” a feminine robotic voice hums in Miriel’s earpiece disguised as an elaborate ear cuff. Miriel smiles in acknowledgement, knowing that Cirimeni’s got eyes all over the building and can very well see her.
Normally she likes to be in the shadows, slinking in and out before anyone sees her. Tonight is a different story, though. There are too many guards to be able to successfully cat burgle anything. So Miriel is taking a page out of the old heist manual and going in as the distraction. Cirimeni and Fenris had debated vehemently with her about this, but it’s the best option.
She just happens to be his type.
Or at least close enough that the approximators she’s wearing can make her seem irresistible to the heir to the Evanuris wealth. Her contacts are blue, masking her golden eyes, and her face approximator softens some of the angles in her face, making her appear more doll like. Approximators cover her left arm and leg like hose, hiding the dark vine tattoos that swirl over almost the entirety of her left side. While she doesn’t think he cares about tattoos, they’re too distinctive and could give her away.
Miriel’s dressed herself in a low cut, high slit black halter dress that makes her golden skin practically glow. Her long honey blond hair is left long and down, enticing some idiot to grab it. Or perhaps a specific idiot.
“Invitation,” the guard asks at the front glass doors. Miriel smiles and produces the holographic invitation from her small purse.
“Aeva du Roche,” she purrs in a flawless Orlesian elven accent, “curator at the Jader High Museum.” The guard gives her a look and looks down at the holograph. He runs a hand over it, the electricity reacting to the slim finger piece he’s wearing on his ring finger. A band at the base of the piece clicks then turns a bright green.
“You’re cleared. Enjoy the party.” He steps aside, gesturing to the door. She half expects him to open it before she realizes that the door itself is a hologram. Eluvian tech? Fancy indeed.
She smiles at the guard, taking her invitation back before stepping through the door. The energy tickles the approximators, giving her tiny shocks along her arms, face, and leg. She shows no signs of discomfort, accustomed to the small shocks her little devices give her.
The inside of the building is more opulent and grand than the outside with immense custom made glittering chandeliers that glow blue with energy, glistening marble floors, and a roof made entirely out of glass. The ceilings are tall enough to make a giant feel small and she wonders if June took that thought into consideration when building - making sure everyone felt small when compared to the might and power of the Evanuris family.
Mythal must be delighted.
Miriel doesn’t mind feeling small, not like many of these ass kissing socialites who are only here to garner favor. Small things are rarely noticed and that is ultimately her goal - not to be noticed. Except for tonight, of course, she is banking on being noticed.
The front room is flanked by pillars that support the glass ceiling and those pillars create smaller alcoves where groups of people have gathered in meeting. Miriel walks down the center of the room toward the atrium, smiling at any passerby. The front room is for gossips, and while she normally is a fan, tonight is a mission.
The great double door are so large they cannot be opened by a person but instead either be opened by sensors or by runes. They are kept open tonight, however, allowing free exploration of the rooms. She steps through the threshold and into the atrium, and while she knows what to expect with the Core, she cannot help but gasp in awe of it. It’s...radiant, pulsating with energy within its titanium steel display case. She steps closer to it, unable to ignore how it beats like a heart -
“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Someone says next to her. She turns quickly to see a tall man, a handsome tall elven man next to her. His dark hair is slicked back from his face, highlighting his bright blue eyes. This is Darevas Evanuris, son to Dirthamen Evanuris and nephew to Falon’Din, the heir. Not her mark but...enticing enough to engage in conversation certainly. He’s rumored to not be much older than she is, recently graduating with his MBA. She wonders where his twin is, the two are rarely seen apart.
Miriel lets her eyes drag over him for a second, appraising his build and his clothes, and that watch, before looking him in the eye. She smiles, “It is. A true marvel of engineering.”
Like most men, he is pleased at her roaming eye and seems to puff up just a bit for her, “I’m equally as impressed by how beautiful they made it. It’s nice to see the future is efficient and beautiful.”
“Oh yes,” she says, “It would be dreadful to have such a marvel be hideous. Especially to throw a party around it.” She is perhaps a tad too cheeky but Darevas chuckles.
“I am Darevas, by the way,” he says, offering his hand. She takes his hand, shaking it, turning it over gently to expose his golden watch.
“Aeva du Roche, a pleasure. And is this a Jacobson? Those are quite rare now, with modern technology.” She lets his hand go and he blushes slightly.
“Ah, yes. It was a gift for my recent graduation.”
“Oh? Congratulations are in order then. I would offer you a toast, but I am afraid we have no drinks.”
“We can’t have that, now can we?” Darevas looks around, spies one of the servers and beckons him over. He takes two glasses off the tray and offers one to Miriel with a charming smile. She accepts the champagne and clinks her glass to his.
“Congratulations, may your future be as bright as this marvel.” She sips from her glass, maintaining his eye contact.
“Thank you. And might I ask what is your occupation, Lady Aeva? Everyone here knows my family and business, it puts me at a disadvantage.”
Oh he is a charming one, isn’t he? She glances around the room, not seeing her mark. The night is still young and she has some time, she supposes. Getting in good with this little lordling may not be such a bad thing.
“I would not say that, your father has done quite a good job at concealing you from the public,” but not good enough to keep Miriel from digging, “I know little about you.”
“Ah, then might we play the game, then?”
“The Game? You speak to an Orlesian, darling, The Game manes something quite specific to us.” She teases and he chuckles.
“Ah yes, The Game. I merely mean the game that people who have just met each other play, where one asks a question and the other answers and asks a question in turn.”
“Oh, that game. Are you sure you are up to playing?” She teases, walking around him. He follows her a bit like a puppy. She can feel his eyes roaming over her body and for once she is not repulsed by the action. Men ogle her, they want her, and she is happy to put on a show as long as they adhere to all museum rules - look but no touching.
“I did suggest it,” he says.
“Very well. I shall begin. What is your degree in?”
“Business, specifically looking into ethics.” Now that is a surprise. Ethics from an Evanuris? Perhaps he learned about them to only better aid his family is breaking them. The family has had no issue in violating any code of ethics before. Killing people, embezzlement, theft of Dalish land and artifacts. She would not be surprised if the Core is stolen technology from the dwarves.
“I did not realize the family had an interest in business ethics,” she says off-handedly, looking at a rather dull human made bust of an old king.
“Ah, but perhaps it is not about my family and about me.” What a novel concept to have one of the Evanuris to want to step away some from the family’s interests. So novel a concept that it must be a lie.
As handsome as he is, Miriel must remember who he is, who his family is.
“Perhaps, and isn’t all higher education an ode to oneself?” she says, turning into a hallway that runs adjacent to the atrium. It is filled with more busts of famous historical figures that she doesn’t care to know.
“And you protest such things?” He asks and she chuckles.
“Hardly. Who is to say I have not written a symphony to myself with all my education?” She hasn’t, but she is playing someone who likely has.
“Have you?” He asks.
“I have. Bachelor’s, Master’s, a PhD. I am my biggest fan,” she plays.
“Dr. du Roche, then.”
“Yes,” she turns to him and leans up by his ear, “but you, darling, call me Aeva.” The air charges with slight magic and it reminds her of his lineage. The Evanuris are known to be mages and he is no different, it seems. Magic curls around them, prickling along the lines of her approximators.
“Very well, Aeva,” his voice is low and sends an involuntary shiver down her back. She needs to keep her purpose in mind, needs to not become caught up in whatever this is. Her loneliness is only outmatched by her outrage and determination.
My people will be free once again. And those blueprints are the key to said freedom.
“Do be a dear,” she says, “and show me this incredible building. I long to see what treasures your family has acquired.” Stolen more like. Darevas is a dear, though, offering his arm before he whisks her off around the museum. He is a good host, telling her about the pieces. She spots at least a dozen fake items and more that she knows to be stolen or at least acquired in illegal means. She’s seen them on the black market - she has even pawned a few of these at the beginning of her thieving career. To keep up her ruse, she tells him a few things about a couple of the pieces she knows.
By the time they return to the atrium she thinks that surely her mark has arrived. But she cannot see him and the band is cueing up a song.
“May I have this dance?” Darevas asks. She shouldn’t, it’s a bad idea, yet she finds herself taking his offered hand.
“I do so love to dance,” she says and lets him guide her across the floor. He is a marvelous dancer, leading her perfectly through the dance. It is a simpler formal dance to appeal to the widest cast of people here, but the way Darevas dances makes it feel more incredible than its actual simple steps.
The song ends and she finds she wants to keep dancing. It wouldn’t be so bad, she thinks, to stay and -
“Falon’din has entered the building,” Cirimeni says and she inwardly curses. Miriel smiles up at Darevas and draws a delicate nail down his cheek.
“You are a darling.” She extricates herself from his arms, dragging her hands down so that her fingers coil delicately over his watch. She unclasps it all the while maintaining his gaze. He is rapt with her and it almost makes her feel bad.
Almost. She steps away, disappearing into the crowd, slipping his watch into her purse. He won’t miss it. His family is made of money and if he throws a fit, she’s sure Mamae and Papae will buy him another.
Now she must set her trap for one of the worst members of the family. A rapist and a killer, Falon’din is kept along as a sort of embarrassing pet to Mythal. She makes sure the law doesn’t look at Falon’din overlong and in turn, Falon’din victimizes people throughout the land.
Miriel slinks into the shadows and up to the third floor, mapping her route. June Evanuris’s office is located at the back of the museum, overlooking both the atrium and the gardens. It is a spacious and gorgeous office but it is also sealed - only someone with Evanuris level clearance can enter. As much as a disappointment Falon’din is, he is an Evanuris. She pulls out a small appliance from her purse and places it on the door. It beeps to life and does a scan of the room beyond the glass. A hologram projects in front of the device, giving Miriel the ability to survey the room without setting off any alarms. She manipulates the hologram, looking at every nook and cranny. The blueprints are likely in a safe, on a password encrypted drive.
Aha! There, on the left wall there is a false panel. If she pops it open, it will reveal its secrets. All she needs is to get the drive, the others can solve the rest.
Next, she puts another device on the handle and activates it. This program alters the DNA scan to verify the person pulling the door is verified to enter. She has a strand of Sylaise’s hair but alas, the scanner requires a living person. The bug she’s using to override the scan isn’t even exactly overriding the scan, but rather programing it to ignore some of the DNA so that a relative to the verified person can enter.
Ah, gotta love black market tech. Unfortunately, Darevas is not close enough in relation to Sylaise for it to work with him. Miriel needs either a brother, a sister, a mother, or a father. Andruil is not at this gathering and Dirthamen is rumored to be unwavering faithful. She isn’t going anywhere close to Mythal or Elgar’nan. Sylaise herself is plastered next to June all night and will not be lured away.
That leaves Miriel with Falon’din.
Satisfied with her plan, Miriel peels off the reader and puts it back in her purse. She heads down to the atrium once more.
“Where is he?” she whispers.
“In the eastern wing of the atrium by the fountain, sulking.” He won’t be sulking for long. Miriel touches up her lipstick and fluffs her hair. Time to get this show started.
It should terrify her, what she is planning to do, but instead she feels a sick sort of glee. Nothing makes her happier than robbing assholes. The music in the hall rises as she descends the stairs.
There he is, leaning against a pillar, scowling at the fountain, arms folded over his chest like a petulant child. The only other person she loathes more is Mythal, but she is at least not trying to lure and seduce Mythal.
Miriel steps slightly out of the shadows and poses a little, tilting her head back, exposing her neck. Falon’din’s gaze flickers up, back down, then up again, settling on her.
Got him.
She shifts her weight and bats her eyelashes. Intent blazes in his eyes and stalks forward. She grins, crooking her finger at him before bolting up the stairs.
Have to be faster. She bolts up the two flights of stairs, flashing smiles back at her pursuer. His age has slowed him but he is still dangerous, she knows. At the top of the stairs, she turns and beckons him more.
“I found the perfect place,” she croons, backing up to June’s office.
He’s breathing heavily but still moving towards her.
“I can’t get it open,” she pouts, “maybe you’ll get it open?” She bites her lip, hoping he doesn’t just forego the room completely. Her luck is with her, however and he grasps the handle. There is a noticeable whirr then click and the door eases open.
“Oh you are amazing,” she purrs, slinking past him inside. Close the doo-
He follows her inside, grasps her hair and pulls.
“Ah!” She cries as he yanks her head back to look at him.
“You’re a tease, aren’t you?” He slants his mouth over hers and she has to resist gagging. The plan, she has to remember the plan. And fortunately, she planned for this occurance.
The fingers on her left hand press into her palm, typing in a code into a the approximator. Electricity seizes her arm and she shoves her hand up to Falon’din’s face.
He screams as the electricity courses into his body and the buzzer saps his magic but he is bigger than she anticipated and it’s not enough to down him like she had originally hoped.
“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” He shouts charging her. His hand comes around her throat as he throws her against the glass, making it crack. She cries out in pain before the hair is slowly squeezed from her. Her eyes go wide as she realizes she has made a horrible mistake.
He tears her dress down, exposing her.
Can’t breathe - ! But she can remember. Miriel gives a small hop, lifting her feet to launch a kick into his knees. He buckles, surprised enough that his grip loosens. She reaches up and pulls on his fingers, twisting them until break. He shrieks in pain but she doesn’t let up. She grabs his hair and knees him the face.
Go down, go down. But the bastard is tough and he is beginning to cast.
Shit! She leaps over to the desk and grabs a heavy vase. She clubs him over the head with it, then knicks him for good measure before noticing -
Oh no.
His head...is at a sickening angle. Blank eyes stare at nothing and she realizes he’s dead.
She killed him. The Falon’din Evanuris. She, Miriel of clan Bellenan of ill repute and questionable methods, killed Falon’din Evanuris.
She….she’s never killed anyone before.
“We’re coming! Get the blueprints!” Cirimeni shouts in her ear. Right, the...the reason she’s here. Swallowing back the urge to vomit, Miriel stumbles first to the computer. Might as well steal all the files. She plugs in the drive that will pull all the files then limps over to the wall. She presses the panel and a screen appears. Right, the safe. She raises her left hand with the approximator and presses it against the screen.
“Override it,” she says.
“On it,” Lasvala says. The current in her arm is horrendously uncomfortable as it always is, the prosthetic is still wired into her nervous system even if it is designed to be the ultimate subterfuge weapon. “Got it.”
The screen disappears and the panel slides down to reveal a small case. She grabs it just as the door opens and light blasts in from the party.
“Aeva!” Darvas shouts then looks down to see his quite dead uncle. Shit!
Horror crosses over his face and another person appears next to him, “You fought him off…what do you have?” The other person asks and she has no time to explain herself. They’ll kill her, she’s most wanted now. Goodbye Miriel the Thief, hello Miriel the Murderer.
Asshole had it coming, though.
She grabs the drive from the computer then turns, running to the window. She tosses a ball of electricity at the glass and it shatters just as she clears the threshold.
“AEVA!” Darevas shouts.
Overhead is the telltale whirr of the Bird - a weird cross between car, helicopter, and plane. Miriel grabs the lowered cable with her left hand and it takes off, pulling her up as it sails over the gardens.
Her last view of the museum is of Darevas at the broken window, stunned and horrified. She shouldn’t care, really shouldn’t, he’s one of them. It doesn’t matter that he’s into ethics and a divine dancer or that he could potentially be different. Because he’s not different.
The Evanuris are users and abusers.
And she killed one tonight.
The hatch opens up and she crawls into the Bird.
“Took you long enough,” Cirimeni says through her Artificial-Voice Modulator Torque - Y edition, or AMITY for short. “Did you get it?”
“I killed him,” Miriel murmurs, “but yeah, I got it. Plus all their files.”
“Yes! Shit, Miri, you were so cool! Something outta the movies,” Lasvala says as they help her into a seat.
“Maibrit will be happy,” Cirimeni says as she flies the Bird higher into the sky to avoid detection.
“Yeah.” Miriel leans against the seat and tries to calm down. She did it, she got the blueprint.
And became a killer.
Mamma Mia! AU
Dirthamen, Deceit, Fear, Venavismi, Nona and Gran-Gran(mentioned) belong to @feynites
Serahlin, Miriel, and Katra belong to @scurvgirl
Cirimeni belongs to @justanartsysideblog
Ana belongs to @lycheemilkart
“I have a secret,” Darevas grins to his brother as they stare out at the ocean, half breathless from the end of their morning run around the island.
Felasel glances up from the rim of his glasses as he wipes the sweat from his brow. “Should I be worried?”
“No,” Darevas says.
Pauses.
“...No?” he repeats as he tilts his head and looks to the sky, less sure of his answer the second time around.
Felasel frowns as he steps closer to his twin. “I swear to the Gods, Darevas, if this is another last minute change to your wedding-”
“It's not!” He pleads, hands up in innocence. “It's a.....gift? It's a gift, yes.”
“For Miriel?”
“For you! And for mom. And...also for me.”
“So, mostly for you,” Felasel says flatly.
“Mostly for us,” Darevas assures him. “Do you remember that notebook we found in those old chests in the storehouse?”
Felasel nods slowly, arms crossing over his chest.
“I managed to pick the lock-”
“You picked a lock?”
“Picked a lock, broke a lock-semantics aren't the important part of this!”
“So what is?”
Darevas takes a deep breath and announces “I invited our dad to my wedding!”
Two teal eyes close in frustration as Felasel runs his hand through his hair. “Our dad left before we were born; he didn't even know mom was pregnant, Darevas. He left because he was engaged to someone else-”
“Well yeah, ok, so that's what mom told us when we asked. Buuuuut...”
Felasel peeks one eye open, heart giving a heavy thump in his chest. “...'But'?”
Darevas clears his throat, pulling an old worn down journal with the image of a raven decorating the cover from the back pocket of his pants, opening up to an earmarked page with a flourish.
“July 17th...” he recites “ 'What a night!'”
“Oh I so don't want to hear this-”
“Well you need to, so hush,” Darevas clears his throat as he continues reading aloud.“'Dirthamen rented a boat and rowed me over to the little island' -that's here, that's Llomerryn- 'We danced along the beach, we kissed beneath the stars and...'dot, dot, dot!”
“Please do not go into the details of our mothers 'dotting'.”
“No problem, bro. Anyways, she goes on with 'Dirthamen's the one! I've never felt like this before, the way he thrills me, it nearly kills me...oh, it makes me dizzy! I practically feel like singing when he does his...thing!'”
Felasel nods slowly as he listens, running his hands through his hair and tying it into a low ponytail.
“So this Dirthamen is our father, then?”
Darevas shrugs, scrunching up his nose. “He leaves soon after to go get married and mom realizes she's never going to see him again, which fits with her story.”
“What an asshole,” Felasel sighs. “Well, we knew that much already, but thanks for the TMI on mom's old sex life-”
“No it's not done!” Darevas declares “August 4th : 'What a night! Deceit rented a motorboat, and we went over to the little island. Though my heart still stings for Dirthamen, Deceit is so spontaneous and romantic. He's such a talented, funny guy, and Fear is so sweet and caring. One thing lead to another and....' dot dot dot!”
Felasel groans, and settles his head into his hands. “Ok. So...Ok.”
“August 11th,” Darevas continues without pausing. “ 'Des turned up out of the blue, so I said I'd show him the island. He's so easy to relax and unwind around and so understanding, I just couldn't help it and...' dot, dot, dot!” Darevas finishes, arms wide open as he grins in triumph at his twin brother.
Felasel looks more concerned than impressed with his discovery.
“Ok...so there are at least three people that could be our father, time wise, depending on our mothers sexual practices” Felasel reasons aloud. “Which one did you invite?”
Darevas grins wider and wiggles his eyebrows.
“Oh no. Darevas, what have you done?”
“Invited our dads!”
“With what, 'hey there I might be your son, please come to my wedding?'”
“Well...no,” Darevas admits sheepishly. “They uh...think mom sent the invites.”
“No.”
“And given what we know,” Darevas says shaking the journal between them pointedly “Unsurprisingly, they all said yes!”
Felasel takes a deep breath. Pinches the bridge of his nose, and walks until he is knee deep in the ocean water, before letting out a loud, frustrated scream.
...Well.
Maybe mom will react more favorably, Darevas hopes.
~
It has been a very long time since Dirthamen was in Rivain, he thinks.
Longer still since he visited Llomerryn in particular.
Selenes letter is tucked safely away in the pocket of his coat, after he had practically raced out of his office to come visit at her request. There are many people in his life he never expected to receive personal correspondence from. Fewer still are those he had hoped to hear from. After the death of his mother, followed by the swift divorce from his wife, there had been little time for anything other than memories and responsibilities.
He had never dared to hope that...after everything, she might possibly want to see him again.
Is this what giddiness is?
It is...very freeing. He feels very light, even in his cotton suit and the barely present air conditioning of his cab.
The air here, so far away from Denerim, feels so much cleaner even in the humidity that fills it.
He steps out of the cab as it parks, retrieving his luggage from the trunk as he pays the driver.
Just in time to see the boat pulling out of the dock.
There is another elven man, with shoulder length black hair and very fashionable sunglasses shouting after the boat, calling for it to come back as another, smaller elf retrieves their luggage from their own cab.
There is an older qunari man standing on the back of the boat, waving to them in a friendly, though unhelpful, manner.
“Dammit,” The elf mutters.
Dirthamen sighs as he watches the ferry drift ever father away. “My sentiments exactly.”
“ExCUSE ME!” Yells another elf as he practically rolls out of a third cab. “Somebody stop that ferry!”
“Sure, no problem,” Drawls the shorter elf from earlier. “We were just standing here for our health, after all.”
The man with the long hair huffs, tucking a long loose strand of hair behind his ear and revealing a small golden hoop earring. “I have to get to Llomerryn. When's the next one?”
“Lunes,” Says the elf from earlier, lifting his sunglasses to rest on top of his head. “Monday.”
“Well that's no good, I need to get to a wedding.”
“Bride or groom?” the smaller elf asks, scrolling through the screen of their phone without looking up.
“Groom,” Hums the long haired elf as he takes a familiar looking wedding invitation out of his bag to inspect it. “Though I've never actually met the man.”
Dirthamen feels his brows furrow.
Curious.
That is the same situation he is currently in.
“I'm Deceit,” Introduces the one with the sunglasses as he holds out his hand. “And this is Fear; no worries, they don't really bite so long as you keep your hands away.”
“Noted,” Drawls the one with the longer hair and freckles that are poking up the longer they are in the sun. “I'm Des; I only bite if you ask nicely.”
Dirthamen is about to introduce himself as well, when a shadow passes over their makeshift group, and yet another dark haired elf calls to them, this one seated atop the spreaders of a sailboat loaded with several crates of produce.
“Hey!” He calls down with a grin. “You all need a ride to the island?”
Yes, Dirthamen thinks.
They certainly do.
~
Serahlin is exceedingly grateful that she and Ana were able to catch the last ferry of the day. Though it might've been a bit more considerate for them to hold it until sometime past the early morning so that she could have gotten her full eight hours in, but at least she managed her full facial routine.
Goodness knows how terrible this much direct sun exposure can be for your skin.
It's been quite a bit since she last saw her dear friend after all, and she's eager to show off just how amazingly well she's been doing since she cut Darris out of her life.
So she strides behind Ana as the red headed elven woman pushes past people with quiet apologies, seeking out a seat for the two of them on what is, she thinks, a dangerously overcrowded boat.
A qunari woman with a potent smelling basket finally scoots aside enough to clear a space on the bench by the rail for the two of them and Serahlin quickly takes the opening, relieved to be off of her feet for a moment. She looks fantastic in heels, but they're still absolute murder to walk in on uneven ground.
An older elven gentlemen offers Serahlin an unlabeled green bottle and she turns him down as politely as she can manage, even as Ana eagerly takes the bottle, popping the cap off with her teeth.
The man grins, and pulls a familiar book out of his wives bag; Ana is smiling politely on the cover, surrounded by a wealth of plants and vegetables.
“He's got your book,” She teases, nudging Ana as she blushes and agrees to autograph inside the cover.
“Even all the way out here,” Ana smiles to herself. “It's really gotten so much bigger than I expected, I can hardly believe it.”
“You've turned the whole world green,” Serahlin compliments. Happy for her friends success, even if she's not one to get her own hands dirty with gardening. “Everyone's growing and planting and composting now. “
“I know. Isn't it wonderful?” Ana beams, handing the book and pen back to the man.
~
Getting ready for a wedding is no easy task; Miriel knows this, as she pricks her finger on a pin.
“These look amazing, Mir!” Katra croons, spinning in her soon-to-be bridesmaid dress in the mirror, while Miriel tries to stay focused on getting Cirimeni's modifications right.
Cirimeni signs in return about how excited she is about the wedding, and how nice they're all going to look tomorrow.
Miriel smiles softly. “Yeah. If I had my way, it would've just been a quick vow on the mainland, or maybe even back in Antiva, but Darevas really wants this whole...” She sighs, and laughs a little. “production. Could've saved our money for traveling instead of flowers and food for the whole island. But it's nice. I'm actually starting to get excited for it, now that you both are here.”
He's a romantic, Cirimeni signs into the mirror.
“And I love him,” Miriel finishes, stepping back after finally getting the shoulder of the dress to lay where she wants it.
The door swings open, and Darevas and Felasel step into the room, still damp from their usual dip into the ocean after their morning jog.
“You two look great!” Darevas compliments, lifting the two girls off the ground together and swinging them in a circle.
They've been together for so long already, and she still feels stunned by his strength sometimes.
“Alright, be careful, vhenan!” She calls, tapping his shoulder. “There are pins in the dresses still, and you’re still all wet.” Darevas puts them down and steps back, hands on his hips as he nudges his brother approvingly. “Don't they look great, Felly?”
But Felasel seems momentarily stricken by something, his eyes stuck on Cirimeni.
Miriel resists the urge to laugh; she's never seen him knocked off his rhythm like this, but she supposes Cirimeni is a beautiful woman after all, and it's the first time he's actually seen her.
“Felasel?” Darevas repeats.
Felasel clears his throat and nods.
“You look...luminous,” He manages, voice cracking slightly as his eyes still never leave Cirimenis face.
“Do you need something?” Miriel asks, hoping to take some of the pressure off and alleviate the awkwardness in the room.
“Just grabbing a clean shirt,” Darevas says, reaching past her to snatch one from their dresser, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he does.
Miriel feels her own face heat up at the affection, and tries to keep her heartbeat from increasing too greatly. They're getting married tomorrow, surely her body can withstand its urges until then.
“Ok, ok, you got what you needed, now shoo,” She says with a small giggle. “We're very busy right now.”
Darevas grins and gives her one last deeply passionate kiss before stepping back out the door. Felasel hesitates for a moment, before giving a deep bow to Cirimeni and placing a more polite kiss to the back of her hand.
Miriel shakes her head and shoos him out behind his brother.
Honestly.
It's almost enough to make her put stock in that old legend about love and the island.
Almost.
~
“You realize you'll have to tell her,” Felasel informs Darevas once they've moved into his own room.
“It's fine,” Darevas dismisses, slipping into his new shirt and throwing his old one into Felasels hamper.
“Why haven't you told her already?”
“Because Miriel would say that I should tell mom.”
“You should tell mom. She's going to kill you already, you could at least get honesty on your side here.”
“By the time mom finds out, it'll be too late.”
Felasel sighs as he buttons up his own shirt and shakes his head.
Really, she has enough to deal with around here. This could send her into a full breakdown if it's not handled well, he worries.
“Aren't you even a little curious?” Darevas pushes. “Don't you feel like there's a part of you that's missing?”
“No,” Felasel answers flatly.
“Well, I do,” his brother argues. “And when I see our dad, I'll know who he is, and who I am, and everything will fall into place. You'll see, and you'll thank me for it later.”
Felasel crosses his arms in disapproval, but doesn't say anything more about it.
No matter what, Darevas is right about one thing; It's too late now, anyways.
~
Des isn't quite sure how he managed to luck into being on a boat in the middle of the ocean with such a devastatingly attractive set of elves.
If he weren't already on his way to get back into Selenes good graces, he thinks he might be trying quite a bit harder to turn this short boat ride into a much longer, much more luxurious sort of rendezvous.
Their unofficial captain, Venavismi is focused on keeping them afloat, while Fear seems relatively preoccupied with sitting in the dead center of the sailboat and trying very hard to convince themselves they aren't exactly where they are. Deceit beside them is running their hand in soothing circles over their back and humming a song that sounds strangely familiar.
In a flash, Des realizes he's seen Deceits face before; on a magazine cover. Several magazine covers actually, the man is essentially a rock star back in Fereldan.
What could they possibly be doing coming out to a little Rivaini island like this one?
“I know who you are,” Pipes up the quiet one, Dirthamen as he sits down beside Des. He's removed his coat in the heat, and Des is mildly tempted to loosen the poor dears tie as he gives him back a curious smile. “You're Des, aren't you?”
“I am,” Des grins, turning to make eye contact.
Dirthamen practically lights up. “I read your books; Fab in a Cab on my way to Nowhere. They are quite exciting reads, and very nice to have on long business trips. Although I have been told I am very stoic on the outside, it is very thrilling to be off on some grand spontaneous adventure in my own mind for several hours.”
“You should try it for real some time, then.” Des winks.
“Oh,” Dirthamen says, deflating slightly. “No. I am not the spontaneous type.”
“You're a...close friend of Selenes?” Deceit asks, apparently listening in to their conversation.
“I've barely spoken to her in twenty years,” Des admits. “But then she sent me this invite, so I think she's finally forgiven me.”
“An invite out of the blue?” Deceit asks warily.
Des nods, and Dirthamen begins to look slightly puzzled beside him.
“You know that is strange,” he says. “It was the same for me-”
“Going about!” Vena calls from overhead as the boat begins to turn, several of the cords tightening in response.
One of the ties beside Dirthamen unravels from where it had been loose, and Des has to stifle a laugh as the man, still in his tie and vest and button down, goes chasing after it and ends up pulled a good two feet before he gets a solid grip and stance on it.
“Got it!” Dirthamen calls as his voice cracks slightly, and Des can't resist getting up to help.
It's a good excuse to put his arms around someone, at least.
~
Selene has been on the island of Llomerryn for a very long time.
Long enough that she knows every nook and cranny, every shortcut, every trail. Every crumbling structure on the island, including her own.
It causes her no shortage of stress, and with her sons wedding coming up tomorrow (Tomorrow, she can hardly believe how quickly everything has happened), it's a very, very large relief to know that two of her very best friends are coming to the island for the event.
She practically skips out of her jeep, running all the way down to the dock to greet them on the last ferry of the day. Her outfit is hardly glamorous, a pair of old overalls and a loose blouse, but it doesn't matter as her chest swells with joy and she sees a familiar pair of elves stepping off the boat.
Serahlin, as stunningly beautiful as ever and dressed as though her way of life absolutely agrees with her in her pink skirt and coat, perfectly tailored with matching heels, and long dark hair cascading down from a lovely sunhat. Ana follows beside her, carrying a large bag filled no doubt with many of her home-grown lotions and salves, freckles scattered over her face bright in the sunlight and wearing a very cute banana patterned sundress.
“Well well well, what have we here?” Selene calls loudly to her approaching friends, who quickly strike into their old poses. Selene takes on her own as well, pretending to hold a microphone with one hand up-stretched towards the sky and fidgeting with energy and excitement she's barely felt since her youth.
“For one night!” Ana yells, tilting her head up to the sky
“And one night only!” Serahlin continues
“Selene and the Superstars!” They all yell and laugh in unison before running towards each other in joy.
There's a blur of old choreography and hip checking as they laugh and greet each other, Selene lifting Ana up off the ground slightly before putting the smaller woman back down and bringing Serahlin in for a very tight, very overdue, hug.
“Oh, I missed you two,” She hums, leading them back to her jeep.
“Well that’s what happens when you go and isolate yourself on an island in the middle of nowhere,” Serahlin jokes. “Not like I could hop a plane to get here, there's no airport!”
“So sorry Serahlin, I'll be sure to add an airport to the island for you next time,” Selene teases back with a laugh “Just as soon as I marry some disgustingly rich person, and right after I finish making all the necessary repairs to the parts of the hotel that are still standing. Let me know if you find someone looking to burn a couple million bucks, yeah?”
“It's a rich mans world,” Ana muses aloud.
“You think there are going to be any eligible men at this wedding?”
“Ready to remarry already?” Selene smirks.
“No, not for me!” Serahlin laughs, pointing at Ana on her other side. “For her! Now that her book is a best seller and she's tripled the species of plants most people can name off the tops of their heads. It's time to find someone to share that success with!”
“Oh, not for me,” Ana laughs. “I'm not looking for anything like that-I'm just fine where I'm at, I'd much rather travel and focus on my plants than worry about something like that.”
Ana quickly changes the subject before anyone can push it any farther. “Are the lovebirds going to be moving out after the wedding?”
“Oh,” Selene sighs as she parks the car in front of the hotel. “Who even knows? I have no idea what's going on in Darevas's head anymore, he's been so strange all month. He's going and getting married so young and he wants this big huge wedding, and I don't understand any of it, but I'm doing my best. I just want what's best for him you know?”
“Do you want him to move out though?”
“Of course not!” Selene snorts, turning off the car and popping out the side.
Miriel greets up, waving as she runs towards the group Selene smiles and returns the wave.
“Here comes the bride!” She declares, gesturing to her future daughter in law. “Serahlin, Ana, this is Miriel. She's going to be my daughter starting tomorrow.”
“It's nice to meet you!” She greets politely, moving to help carry the baggage.
“Oh, you don't have to do that-” Serahlin interrupts, but Miriel just raises an eyebrow.
“There's a lot of stairs...” She warns ominously, and Selene nods in agreement behind her.
Serahlin relents, as they follow Selene through the old stone archway at the front of the hotel and up a truly astounding number of stone steps. By the time they reach the top, Serahlin and Ana both are nearly out of breath, taking a seat on a bench as quickly as they can.
“It can be a lot if you're not used to it,” Selene says as an apology. “I appreciate you making the trek.”
“Auntie Serahlin, Auntie Ana! You're here!” Darevas calls, leaning over one of the railings of the hotel windows.
“Oh goodness, they've grown so much!” Serahlin gasps as Felasel and Darevas both come out from the open door before them, each taking one of the women in their arms in a tight hug.
“You two are so tall,” Ana laughs as Felasel places her back on the ground. “And so handsome!”
“Yeah, that’s them. A couple of heart breakers these two,” Selene teases, giving each of her friends a glass full of water, to help cool them down in the thick heat of the island.
Her sons exchange a look that gives her pause, but with so much going on already, she decides not to push it at the moment, instead pulling laundry down that she meant to get put away before they arrived in the first place.
Darevas's attentions leave Serahlin as Miriel comes back from dropping the luggage off in their room, brushing her hands.
“How was the trip in?” Felasel asks, helping Selene to take down some of the sheets and linens.
“A bit crowded,” Ana admits. “But a lovely view. The flora here is really beautiful!”
“Isn't it?” Miriel grins. “I wish we could pull in more people to show it off to, but no one even knows we're here.”
“Felasel and I are going to start a website,” Darevas adds “We're just trying to figure out how to market it to really let people know who and where we are. This place has so much potential, but it's practically a secret.”
“It could be one of the ultimate romantic vacation spots,” Miriel sighs “It's rumored to be the site for the All Mother's Fountain you know, the goddess of love? The legends say that if you drink from the fountain, you’re supposed to find true love and happiness.”
“I'll take some of that,” Serahlin says, raising her cup up in a mock toast.
Miriel smiles, and Darevas distracts her again with a deep kiss before dragging her off to discuss details for the next day.
Selene shakes her head in fondness as Felasel mentions leaving to check on the bridesmaids, leading her own friends into the rooms she's set aside for them.
“Do you really want tourists?” Ana says as she follows.
“Well, maybe not an abundance,” Selene admits “But a few would be nice, to help with costs at least.” She sighs to herself as she looks at the walls of the room; a beautiful shade of blue, but worn down by time and sand and desperately in need of a new coat or two. She leans forward to open one of the windows, for a cross-breeze and lets out a soft cry as one of the doors falls off and lands below them with a loud crash. With an uneasy grin and an apology to the people working below, she quickly darts out and down to retrieve the panel, Serahlin and Ana following behind her.
“Do you need help with money, darling?” Serahlin asks in a worried tone.
Selene laughs it off, “Oh, honey, no. I've got it under control, I'm just whining, you know how it is.”
The ground beneath her feet shakes violently suddenly, and she nearly loses her balance as she tightly grips the wooden piece of her window, a large crack appearing over the mosaic crescent moon in the middle of the hotel courtyard.
“What was that?” Ana asks, clutching at the edges of her dress.
“Oh, it's just the world moving. Par for the course around here,” Selene laughs, shaking her head at her abysmal luck. At this rate, she's not sure if the hotel will even survive the wedding. “C'mon, I'll go fix your window and then we can go have some fun.”
~
Deceit lets out a quiet breath as he steps onto the docks of Llomerryn.
It has been quite a long time since he came to visit. A quiet pang of guilt fills him; he meant to visit Nona and Gran-gran more often, even after everything that happened with Selene, but then his singing career had taken off and they'd passed on together, and he'd just never managed to find the time to come and check on things.
They had taken such good care of him, of his mother, back before...
He sighs, readjusting his sunglasses.
Well, he's here now.
Fear looks over the invitation one last time, as they follow the GPS on their phone all the way up to the hotel. Vena gives them his own directions on top of that, and they thank him, as he gets started unloading his produce and they move on with their own trip in mind.
The invitation had been unexpected, when they had gotten it. Fear was worried something was wrong, hearing from her so suddenly after twenty years of silence, though even they could admit that it would be nice to see her again.
Their romance had only lasted a week, but it had been a very good week.
About halfway through the walk, Deceit recognizes the trail, as a familiar looking hotel comes into view when they crest over one of the hills.
They end up stopping, all four of them, at the top of a set of a staircase he hated climbing even in his youth that's only become crueler to his aging knees. The view from the top is astounding though, the ocean and mainland both in view in the afternoon sunlight.
“Hi,” Comes a voice from behind, and all four of them turn at once. There’s a very tall young elf with dark hair and tan skin and bright eyes staring at them all. “Can I help you?”
“Hello,” Dirthamen speaks up “We are here for the wedding? I am Dirthamen Evanuris.”
“Desire, but please call me Des.”
“Fear.”
“I'm Deceit,” He finally finishes, capping off the introductions and taking off his sunglasses.
The young elven man stares at them all for a moment, eyes glancing to each of them in turn as his breath seems to speed up. Deceit worries that perhaps something might be wrong, judging by the way he’s staring at them all.
“You're expecting us, right?” Deceit says after an uncomfortable minute of silence.
“Yes!” The man says, suddenly breaking out into a large grin. “Yes, of course!”
“You're not...” Des says, taking a step forward, eyes squinting slightly. “Are you Selene's son?”
“I am, one of them. I have a twin brother as well. I'm Darevas, I'm the one getting married tomorrow. It's so...” He lets out a breath with a laugh. “It's so good to meet you all!”
Deceit thinks for a moment that the name sounds familiar; Nona or Gran-gran knew someone with a name similar to Darevas, he's fairly certain. Certainly not this one though, he's far too young to have known them before their passing.
Another strange coincidence. Not an uncommon occurrence on this island.
“Would you mind if we saw our rooms before we meet up with your mother?” Dirthamen requests, shifting from one foot to the other uncertainly. “I would like to freshen up beforehand.”
“Same,” Des chimes in, raising his hand slightly.
“Sure,” Darevas nods eagerly, “Follow me.”
Des leads the way, then Dirthamen, then Deceit, and finally Fear bringing up the rear.
Curious, Deceit thinks. This isn't the normal way to the hotel, this is a back route that was usually only used by the workers or operators. It's hardly the scenic route, most of it back ways and narrow passages through old storage rooms that are clearly starting to wear down in their old age.
Deceit's practically amused by the situation as they're lead down an old set of wooden stairs, past the bleating sheeps and goats and into what he is almost certain used to be the goat house. Darevas directs them up a wooden ladder, and Deceit resists the urge to snort at the site of their 'room'.
Something is definitely up.
Dirthamen looks notably confused and concerned at the air mattresses lying on the floor, one of them already deflated, while Des purses his lips beside him.
“Well, this was a great tour,” Des hums, tugging slightly on his earring. “But it'd be great if you could show me my actual room now.”
“Pretty sure this is your room, Des,” Deceit finally grins.
The colorfully adorned man deflates slightly, while Dirthamens shoulders fall in a dejected manner.
“Can we see Selene now?” Dirthamen attempts, one hand still on his suitcase.
Darevas swallows, barely able to contain his grin as he bounces slightly on the balls of his feet. “I sent the invitations, actually. My mom has no idea about any of this.”
Des lets out a long groan, hip jutting out as he rubs a hand down his face, while Dirthamen's face falls at the news and Fear lets out a disappointed tutting sound beside him.
“She's done so much for me, and my brother, and she's told us so many stories about you all and the good old days,” A lie, Deceit knows without having to say anything about it. “And I thought she'd be so happy to finally see you all again! It could be such a wonderful surprise for her, to find out you're all going to be at my wedding.”
Des takes a few steps forward, closing the gap between himself and Darevas. “Hold on, hold on. I can't be here; Selene said she never wanted to see me again the last time we were together. Are you telling me she doesn't even know that I'm here?”
“That was years ago,” Darevas tries to assure him. “I'm sure she's moved past whatever upset her back then! She's going to be so happy to see you all!”
Dirthamen shakes his head, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly, while Deceit trails a hand over his head and through his hair.
No, that doesn't sound like Selene at all.
“Please,” Darevas pleads, putting on surprisingly effective puppy dog eyes despite the fact that he's easily the tallest person in the room. “It would mean a lot to me.”
“Why?” Fear asks.
“I can tell you went to a lot of trouble to arrange all of...this,” Dirthamen deters. “But I think perhaps it would be for the best if we all went back to the docks and tried to find a boat home.”
“Yep,” Des agrees, popping the p as he turns to reach for his suitcase.
“Nope,” Deceit argues, reclining out on the biggest of the mattresses. “There's probably not any boats leaving right now. Besides, Dirthamen, you said you wanted to be more spontaneous; this is an adventure. It could be good for you.”
“Oh,” Dirthamen ponders, looking up at the wood on the ceiling. “That is true.”
“Ok, look,” Darevas finally says, dropping the pleading tones. “It was a long shot any of you would even reply when I sent the invites. But you all said yes, you've all made the trip, and you're all here. Surely you thought there was something worth coming back for, something other than the wedding of someone you've never met before. Something special, like....some sort of siren call, maybe?”
All four of them let out a unanimous groan, and Des plops down on the edge of Deceits mattress with a laugh.
“Oh, you're definitely Selene's son alright,” he gripes. “A troublesome little minx, just like she was. I hope your brother's not this bad.”
Darevas grins, hands on his hips. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
Deceit shakes his head and gives a laugh of his own.
The sound of a door opening and someone humming rises up from below them, and it's been twenty years, but Deceit has never forgotten that voice.
All of them stand back up, moving almost mindlessly towards the ladder while Dirthamen quietly mumbles “That's Selene,” and Deceit feels slightly embarrassed.
A siren call may not have been quite so far off, all things considered.
“No no no no no nonono,” Darevas whispers, moving between all of them while Dirthamen tucks the bottom of his shirt in. “Listen, she can't know about this, she can't. I have to go, but I need you all to promise me that you'll stay, and not tell anybody that I invited you. Ok? Promise?”
Deceit hesitates, but one by one they all promise not to tell or to leave the island until after the wedding. Darevas pulls a board covered in sheet music away from a window and sneaks out with a large smile, one finger pressed to his lips as Des puts the makeshift window cover back in its place.
“Wouldn't happen to know where I could at least get a shower, would you?” He mutters softly to the open air.
Well, Deceit thinks. This might just be an even more eventful weekend than he planned on.
~
There's something wonderfully grounding about the familiarity of flora, Ana thinks.
Even with the thousands upon thousands of different species, and the variations between those here on Llomerryn and those back in Fereldan, it's easy for her to tell what she can take clippings of back home, and which she can't.
Selene had wandered off after a few drinks to finally fix the new crack in her courtyard, and Serahlin had decided it was a good time to take a shower so Ana thought it would be as good a time as any to explore the island on her own.
Though, she realizes now that she's wandered all the way back down the hills, and ended up back near the docks.
Damn.
She's dreading the walk back up all those stairs, when she hears a small clatter from one of the boats still tied up, rocking slightly in the roll of the waves. There's a tall, long haired elven man loading empty crates onto what she assumes is his sailboat. Her feet take her towards it, curiosity overriding her better thoughts along with a need to make sure he's alright.
Her feet are silent on the wooden dock, but somehow he sees her coming all the same.
He lets out a long laugh.
“Sorry, I'm all out!” He calls.
Ana blinks.
“Um,” She says. “Sorry?”
He gestures to the pattern on her dress. “Bananas? I'm all out, I just finished dropping off today's shipment to the kitchens already. You'll have to ask Selene or Miriel about getting some, I think they're supposed to be for the wedding tomorrow.”
Ana blushes, clutching onto the edges of her dress. “I wasn't- I'm just visiting the island, I'm a friend of Selenes.”
“She's got a lot of friends here today it seems,” Vena muses aloud.
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing,” he says with a shake of his head as he wipes his hand clean on the bottom of his shirt before holding it out for her. “Well, any friend of Selenes is a friend of mine. Venavismi, at your service.”
“Elanna,” She introduces. “But I go by Ana.”
Venavismi grins. “Ana-banana.”
Ana laughs into her fist, feeling her face heat up at the name as a strange sort of warmth spreads through her.
“Here for the wedding then, Ana-banana?”
“Mm-hm,” She grins. “Are you going to be attending?”
“Sure am. I've watched those boys grow up too long not to. Used to help Miriel get onto the island when the ferry wasn't running too.”
“How mischievous,” Ana teases. “You sneak her in a lot?”
“Depends; how much are you into bad boys?” He says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
Ana laughs again. “Not so bad, really,” She admits. “I spend most of my time with my plants, back in Fereldan.”
“Oh, do you have an orchard too?”
“No, most of my plants are potted,” She admits. “You have an orchard?”
“Back on the mainland, yeah,” He preens. “I supply quite a lot of the fruit around here.”
“But you're all out of bananas,” She tsks teasingly. “What a shame.”
“Hold on,” He says, darting back onto his boat and digging through a crate.
He pops back out a minute later with a small yellow fruit, and tosses it to her with a wink. “It may not be a banana, but babe you put the stars in my sky.”
Ana blinks, and looks down at the starfruit in her hands.
She can feel her face turning an even deeper shade of red as she clutches it with an awkward laugh.
“Right! Well that's-I mean,” She stammers, very much out of her element very suddenly. “I should-I should get back to Selene,”
“Sure,” He nods with a self-satisfied smile. “See you at the wedding, then?”
Ana nods quickly, before disappearing back into the forest, starfruit clutched tightly to her chest.
What a terrible pick up line really.
...But she can't really deny the effectiveness of it, either.
~
There are a lot of things Selene expected to happen this weekend, and prepared herself for.
A giant crack in the middle of her courtyard was not one of them.
She's sighing at the caulking gun she keeps in the goat house that the animals don't even go into anymore, wondering if it's got enough left in it that she can just seal the crack and move on to other things.
It's the best she can think of right now, at least.
Absently humming an old tune aloud, Selene hears something shift around overhead.
Ah, damn. What kind of vermin could have gotten into the goat house? There's no rats or squirrels on the island, or is there an infestation problem now too?
Maybe she'll get lucky, and its just the sound of the wood and stone settling in their old age.
...Still.
She should probably check, to make sure there's no unexpected vermin running across the aisle tomorrow at the wedding.
She climbs up the stairs, popping the hatch up only to find it covered by something heavy that’s been moved on top of it. One of the chairs she thinks, peeking through the opening she could manage.
She nearly freezes, as she sees a pair of legs in tight black jeans in front of her.
Her eyes slowly graze up the legs, legs she knows, legs she remembers, until they settle on a too familiar face.
Deceit? She thinks, momentarily stunned. What on earth are they doing here?
Fear is behind them, browsing absently on their phone and donning a much more professional haircut than the half-buzz they had had twenty years ago.
There's more people though.
A pair of bare knees with a familiar freckle pattern stare back at her, a long magenta skirt resting between them and attached to another elf with familiar long dark hair and golden eyes that still have that same spark they did back before...before.
Des, she realizes, heartbeat racing as she finds one more elf in the top floor of the old goat house.
Dark cotton slacks with a purple button down, and two slate blue eyes that she used to dream about for so long, eyes she hasn't seen since they told her he was leaving her behind, and going back to his life in Fereldan.
Dirthamen, she swallows, letting go of the hatch and dropping down from the ladder.
Her heart is racing, as she fans her face and tries to keep from overheating.
What are they doing here?! All of them, together?
How could this even happen?!
They weren't even supposed to-Des and Dirthamen swore they'd never come back, and Deceit had practically abandoned them for his music, and she had been left behind, forgotten really by all of them, caring for Nona and Gran-gran in their last few years and eventually purchasing and renovating the hotel while they were all....were all...
She sighs, and covers her mouth with her hand.
Damn it all.
She moves her hand down to her chest, feeling flames beginning to lick up beneath her skin just from the sight of them.
Damn it all, they're all still outrageously attractive.
How dare they show up here, now, and pull all of these old emotions she's spent twenty years ignoring back up? There's so many other things to do, to worry about-
Gods, what if Darevas or Felasel see them?!
If she had wanted to see them again, she would have invited them years ago. Not now, certainly not in her...current state, she thinks picking a stray thread off of the sleeve of her blouse.
No.
No, she's done well, just fine without them! She's raised two wonderful sons, and cared for the island and she's done it all on her own.
Their faces flash through her mind. Moments long buried of nights in the beach, in rooms of this very hotel, on blankets and next to guitars and books and...
She lets out a sigh.
Mamma mia, she's just gotta get one more look. One more, and she can center herself, and move on with her life.
She's not sure when, specifically, she climbed to the roof, only knows that she's here now, staring down at the access hatch and saying a silent prayer for strength as she bends over for one last look at her past lovers.
It’s really a disastrous moment, when the wind catches her off guard, and she falls straight through the opening.
She lets out a loud groan, her legs straight up and apart from the shock of the fall, thankful for the half-inflated air mattress she landed on. Staring up at four familiar faces, grinning back down at her.
“You've always had the best entrances,” Des teases, stepping towards her.
She can't help it; she laughs.
Selene quickly crosses her legs and tucks them beneath her as she struggles to sit up, glancing from one pair of eyes to another, surrounded, somehow, by all the people she loved so fiercely nearly twenty years ago.
“I better be dreaming,” She finally says, tucking her hair behind her ear and once again cursing her abysmally terrible luck. “You all had better not really be here.”
Counting Crows
*rook details under cut
Mirevas belongs to @no1felassanpegger Ayden de Riva is mine Donella de Riva belongs to @hightowerqueen Rosalind de Riva belongs to @orangeandclover Viola de Riva belongs to @lucaniseyebrowlicker Chiara de Riva belongs to @classicleechaos Rafael de Riva is mine Elgara de Riva belongs to @reevuhs Beata de Riva belongs to @hightowerqueen Remi de Riva belongs to @corvus-frugilegus Matteo Cantori belongs to @marvelous-goose Everin de Riva belongs to @ittybi
Correct me if I'm wrong, but ayden and Carver used to date in the lighthouse verse right? I want to know about their breakup
i am still dying at the way you prompted specifically for the part of the timeline most likely to take u out without realising. SO this one contains ur mirevas, and @hightowerqueen's bea.
(AO3 link)
The funeral isn’t for a week after Felassan dies, but for Ayden it’s the first day that feels for sure like he won’t come back. It feels stupid, maybe. It should’ve felt real at the hospital—they’d never seen Mirevas cry before and haven’t seen her cry since. But maybe that had just made it feel more unreal. Their whole body had filled up with a shocky, indistinct anger; numb hands, and unsteady breathing. They hadn’t had it in them to try and be comforting. They weren’t good at that anyway, especially compared to the others in their scraped-together family. They’d let the rest of them take care of it. Stayed pressed against Mirevas’ spine instead, eyes on the corridor. Like a guard dog. Like they were back in that last group home with Bea again, her sleeping while they watched. But the unreality all comes crashing down at the funeral.
It’s so much bigger than the memories of their mother’s. They can’t begrudge Felassan that; there are so many people that loved him.
It’s been enough that they’ve left their phone stuffed under their mattress for the last three days. All the important discussions have happened in person anyway. In a crowded room all of the rest of the world comes crashing back in.
Carver must’ve been at the ceremony but he doesn’t find them until the cemetery, after most everyone else has dispersed.
He says, “I called.”
Ayden says, “I haven’t been checking my messages.”
“I get it,” he nods.
He probably does. They were just out of high school when he’d lost his dad. Ayden remembers a sick sort of jealousy that he’d had a father worth losing at all.
They should’ve known they were jinxing themself.
—
After the wake, The Lighthouse is closed for two weeks.
Ayden and Bea have both been staying at the house instead of their apartment, but it’s getting choking. Ayden doesn’t even make it to the weekend before they take their work keys, slip out the door when no one’s paying attention, and head into the bar. In lieu of anything more productive, they take their Vyvanse for the first time since the funeral and start doing stock take. Surface a few hours in to their phone buzzing angrily on the country.
They answer with a clipped, “Hey.”
Carver says, “Where are you?”
“Work.”
There’s a brief pause before he says, “Thought the bar was closed.”
“It is,” they say. Hold back a sigh before they elaborate; “I was going stir crazy. Came in to do something useful.”
“Want company?” he asks.
They don’t, really. But he’s like a dog with a bone sometimes, so they might as well throw him one.
“Sure,” they say. “Front door’s unlocked.”
He’s there quickly enough that he had to have been nearby, which is a red flag enough without a sheepish edge to his expression. Ayden eyes him carefully, finishes the note they were making on the inventory log.
“What’s going on?” they ask, casually.
Carver, to his credit, doesn’t even attempt to hedge. “Bea text me. She was worried about you.”
“We have that stupid tracking app,” Ayden says, scowling. “She would’ve known where I was.”
“I don’t think where you were was what she was worrying about.”
“I’m fine,” they say.
Carver says, “Ayden, c’mon,” and closes the rest of the distance to the bar. Leans on it, braces on his elbows next to the log they’d been taking notes on. “You’re not.”
How sure he is about it stings no matter how right he is. Ayden’s never enjoyed the feeling of being known too well. Bea’s the only exception—at least now that Felassan is gone—and even that rankles when she calls them out on something they don’t want to talk about.
This thing with Carver was supposed to be fun, had been fun, even if the transfer from occasionally blowing off steam to something exclusive, something softer, hasn’t felt exactly natural for them. But Carver wanted it, and Ayden cared about him. The conversation almost feels like an extension of that; he’s watching them across the bar like he’s waiting for something.
They say, “I gotta keep doing inventory,” and turn back to the fridges.
—
It takes three days for them to finish a full stocktake.
Carver had driven them back to the house the first day and the second, but the third they’d asked him not to come by. Then they’d gone autopilot on the subway and ended up back at their apartment instead. There’s a few unanswered texts on their phone. They’re trying not to fall completely out of contact. They also aren’t sure if they can face heading back out into the world to get back and see the others. There’s a miasma of grief that feels like it hits from the subway stop closest to the house onwards.
They message Bea instead, just sleeping at the apartment tonight, and then ride out a few hours taking stock there as well.
The milk in the fridge is off, there’s bread going mouldy in a cupboard, they’ve missed two trash collection days. That’s all easier to think about. They clean the bathroom and the kitchen and bleach and artificial lemon starts to overtake the musty smell from them not being home much. It starts to feel a little easier to breathe.
Another key scrapes in the door and they look up to see Bea letting herself in.
There’s a pang of guilt there, for ditching.
Bea hadn't ever seemed to have the trouble Ayden did attaching herself to the family they'd stumbled into. No question mark behind the word dad like it felt like there was for them. That feeling like they were overstepping, that the adoption papers should've washed away but they hadn't. They'd never say it in words, because they knew it'd only make the people they loved feel terrible, but part of them never stopped feeling like they'd arrived at it all by tagging along with their sister. Not that Mirevas and Felassan didn't love them, that they'd loved Bea first. Ayden was a belligerent bonus. Bea loved like breathing and was easy to love in return. Ayden just lucked out she loved them too.
And Bea had already spent too much of her life looking after them. Especially when it meant leaving Mirevas back at the house.
They manage a, “Hey.”
“Thought there might not be any food here,” Bea says, lifting up a bag of take out. “And I wanted an opportunity to eat something that isn't grief-casserole.”
“Thanks,” they say, past a suddenly scratchy throat. “You staying tonight, or are you gonna head back?”
“I’ll stay,” comes the response. Easy and casual as it's been every other time she'd taken care of them.
And even past the regret, it’s the first night that’s felt normal in a bit, somehow. Crammed on the couch with Bea, picking at takeout, the TV tuned to something neither of them are watching. Ayden lists towards her as the exhaustion starts to hit, ends up with their head pillowed on her shoulder. It's familiar as any other time they've ended up falling asleep together, especially when they're most of the way there and she pokes them into getting up so they can move to her bed, instead. Better than it would've been by themself.
Nice to realise things could feel like that again.
—
Bea and Ayden both quietly agree to work prep to close on the first day the bar reopens.
There’s something there lodged in Ayden’s heart. They never would’ve found their family if it hadn’t been for sneaking in way too young, if it hadn’t been for Felassan, Mirevas, Dorian, and Fintan spotting them and taking an interest instead of kicking them out. Giving them a soft landing when they’d ditched their group home—Bea and Ayden still would’ve run, they’re sure of that, but all of their options would have been worse. The bar still feels like home in a way even their apartment doesn’t, sometimes. The idea of it without Fel hollows out Ayden’s ribs; they owe it to him to see the first night through.
They’re a little surprised Mirevas shows up, though.
Maybe they shouldn’t be. She’s never one to have idle hands; she likes to work through her problems the same as Ayden does. But she looks lost, checking the set up on the bar floor, in a way she never has before.
Eventually she makes her way over to where Ayden’s unloading clean glasses.
“Everything ready for tonight?” she asks.
Her voice is as controlled as ever. Still.
“Ready as we can be,” Ayden says.
They’re not playing it like some kind of grand opening. None of them would have been able to cope with that. But it’ll still probably be a busier night than normal. Regulars who haven’t been able to come in. Most of whom will know. Doing all the prep kind of feels like another mini-wake. Not quite mourning, more recognising the new normal. Fel had been sick for a while, but it had still always felt like one day he’d be back in the dressing rooms again. That Ayden would be slicing garnishes while Bea did his nails. That he’d swan around the floor getting opinions on wig options. But that’s never happening again, and it feels like something’s missing.
Maybe that’s what’s bothering them about Mirevas.
They haven’t seen her cry since the funeral, and she’s acting the same as she ever did, but there’s a void there all the same. Some spark, something solid in her that Fel took with him when he left. It isn’t like Ayden hasn’t seen it happen before; when their mum died everything that had been propping their dad up went with her. He’d never gotten better. Mirevas is covering it up more but it’s all the fucking same in a way that scares them.
Maybe how much you lose depends on how much love it takes to fill you up; there’s a hunger for it in their chest that scares them. They feel like they’re more like their dad than Mirevas.
She grips their shoulder for a long moment, then she heads upstairs, and it takes Ayden a minute to refocus on their prep. By the time Bea comes bustling back in ready to fill the ice buckets they’ve wiped their face clean.
(She still notices, because she always does, but she doesn’t mention anything. They appreciate it.)
There’s plenty of regulars who show up. But even with them, the oddness of the evening gets acknowledged with their first drink and melts away by their third. Ayden’s exhausted, by the end of the night. It’s been more work than usual to hold up that smile, to fire back when people make jokes, earn their tips. Carver showed up halfway through the night, has been lingering near the bar for a couple of hours. Wanders over after last call, posts up by where Ayden’s stacking a tray of empties to take out back.
“You want company tonight?” he asks.
The annoying thing is; Ayden kind of does.
But they want company in the way it would’ve been before. When they’d fuck and Carver would-or-would-not spend the night, and it’d be fun, and it’d get some stress out, and it didn’t need to be anything more that that. When Carver had asked, just a few months beforehand, if they could do more than sex, it had felt simple. Maybe like a natural progression, even. Definitely how things were supposed to go. There’s too much concern in his eyes now; if Ayden takes him home he’s going to ask them things he doesn’t want to when the bar’s full of people, and Ayden doesn’t have any answers that come easy. And there’s that void in their chest. Feels like it could swallow him alive if they let it. Like he’ll get lodged in there and then if he leaves he’ll crack all their ribs open on the way out.
They shouldn’t have fucked him in the first place, probably.
Then nothing would’ve gotten this complicated.
They say, “Not tonight,” and don’t elaborate, and focus on the rest of their close tasks instead of looking at him.
—
They could’ve predicted the downfall.
It’s their day off and they’re alone in the apartment when Carver knocks. Bea’s working with a couple of the casual staff, and Ayden’s been weighing up heading to the house and checking in on Mirevas versus just burying their head under their sheets and not surfacing until tomorrow. They let Carver in and watch their shitty kitchen fill up with a weird, antsy energy that enters with him.
“You haven’t been answering my calls,” he says.
Which is true. To be fair; Ayden hasn’t been answering many people’s calls. They see Bea in the apartment every day; they’re still spending a lot of time at the house; most everyone else important to them either works at or at least frequents The Lighthouse. But they know that’s not really the point.
“I’ve just been busy,” they say.
He says, “You’re shutting me out.”
Ayden looks away.
There’s another issue; nowhere in the apartment is safe to look.
They wanted to hide in their bed because they’re tired, yes, but there’s also a sketchbook Fel had given them that’s been on the coffee table for over a month. They’d last used it before he died; it hurts to look at but they can’t bring themself to move it. There are photos in thrift store frames on the walls, all the most important nights of Ayden’s life, only now every time they see them he’s the only thing they notice. There’s a jacket of Bea’s that he’d made slung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Ayden’s not even sure if it was her or them that last wore it. Every single surface in the apartment has been touched by him and now it all feels like it’s there to be wiped away. They don’t know if they want that, if it’ll feel better if they’ve pruned him from their life, root by root, dug all of him out like an old stump. It’s not like the hole will fill. It’s scarred into them either way.
Now there’s Carver standing in the middle of the kitchen.
Before everything, Ayden had been working on calling him their boyfriend in their head. Because he was, their brain just shied away from the words for it. But then it’d gotten more and more clear that Felassan wasn’t getting better, and that had superseded everything else.
Carver says, “I know you’re not coping, I want to help.”
Ayden snaps, “I’m coping fine.”
It’s about the stupidest way they could’ve responded and they know it.
He says, “Are you actually trying to ghost me? Now?”
They say, “Carver, you’re in my apartment.”
“But you didn’t exactly invite me.” He turns away, a scowl on his face. Like looking at them is difficult. “Or are you trying to be enough of a dick that I break up with you.”
Probably that idea should hurt more than it does. They say, “Do you want to?”
“No,” he snaps, looking at them again. “I want you to talk to me.”
Ayden scrubs a hand over their face, bites out, “I don’t have anything to talk about.”
“Bullshit.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” they say.
“Anything,” he shoots back. “Literally anything. That isn’t just avoiding me.”
They take a deep breath. Look away. Eyes catch on sketch propped up on a shelf, something they’d roughed out at a family Solstice day celebration; Mirevas and Felassan, lying on their backs on the stage. Ayden had been sketching to avoid scraping dishes; they’d given the drawing to Bea at the end of the night almost as an afterthought.
“I can’t keep doing this,” they say, low and hoarse. “I think—”
“Can’t do what?” Carver asks.
Ayden says, “Us.”
He flinches. Says, “So you were trying to get me to break up with you.”
“No,” they say, “I just—It’s too much right now, I don’t—”
“It doesn’t have to be too much if you let me help,” he says, and it’s probably supposed to be reassuring but it comes out angry.
“I don’t want help.” They can feel themself getting louder even though they don’t want to, matching the anger. “I don’t want anything from you right now.”
It comes out harsher than they meant to. Carver’s face goes white and then red.
Carver says, “I think you never actually wanted to start dating me, and now you’re just using your dead dad as an excuse,” all in a rush. There a set to his mouth that Ayden knows means he’s trying his best not to let his lips wobble, tears standing out in his eyes.
But the words feel like fucking ice water dumped all over them.
Whatever’s on their face has him backtracking. Starting to say, “I shouldn’t ha—” before they shake their head to cut him off.
They say, “You should leave.”
He says, “Ayden.”
They say, “I don’t ever want to talk to you again.”
—
Carver keeps calling.
Ayden's curled up next to Mirevas on the couch at the house. Every show they'd tried to put on it had felt like there was a ghost on the couch with them, so neither of them are paying attention to the random channel they've changed to.
They haven’t spoken to Carver in weeks. He’s messaged a bunch of times, left more than a few voicemails. Angry and apologetic in turns. Shown up at The Lighthouse a couple times, never gotten quite bad enough to ask Davrin to kick him out. Lately, Ayden mostly deletes things without reading them. He’s been persistent, for whatever reason, this night specifically. It keeps draining their phone battery, keeps distracting them. Mirevas keeps glancing at their phone when it buzzes. Keeps glancing toward the hall like she's expecting someone else to come in. There's something burning in their stomach, that she might decide whatever's going on with them is the important thing, like they're not there trying to watch out for her.
"Everything ok?" she asks, eyes dropping to their phone like she's trying to get a look at the screen.
"Fine," they say.
Ayden’s phone buzzes again. They decline. After a second they swipe through to his contact and block his number. Slip their phone back into their pocket. Shift on the couch so they’re pressed a little into Mirevas’ shoulder.
Watch the rest of the room like a guard dog.
OC Kiss Week Day 3 - Stolen
a stolen moment in the final battle with Ayden de Riva and @no1lucanispegger's Mirevas
-
The tiny bit of peace they’d found felt like the eye of the storm that was Minrathous.
Ayden bounced their weight on the balls of their feet. The issue was; they’d already done all the things you were supposed to do when you got a break in the middle of a job like this. They’d patched up the scrapes they’d got fighting their way into the city. They’d eaten, they’d hydrated. They were both too wired and probably didn’t have the time to attempt a nap. But they weren’t making the final push, yet, so all they had to do was wait.
Then they spotted Mirevas posted up, hip resting against a low wall near where the Crows had gathered. Her arms were crossed over her chest, it looked like she was keeping an eye everyone moving around her with the same kind of watchfulness she always did.
Ayden made their way over, boosted themselves to sit on the wall a few feet from where she was leaning.
She definitely saw them coming but didn’t acknowledge it.
There had been a solid chunk of time when Ayden had been extremely certain Mirevas didn’t like them, but the longer they’d known her the more they’d realised that if that was true she would’ve told them. Instead of doing what she did do which was constantly throw herself in front of them in battle and at least tolerate when they’re bouncing off the walls with adrenaline after. And, sure, there’d been maybe a rush of attraction when they first met. Ayden liked the idea of playing it cool, testing the waters, but they’d spent enough time away from Viago recently that they’d really lost the trick of holding their tongue.
“All the Veil Jumpers make it through ok?”
Mirevas said, “As many as can be expected,” with the kind of weight that made it clear she weighed every one that hadn’t on her own conscience.
Bad choice for an opening line.
But before they could offer condolences, Mirevas said, “And the Crows?”
“Yeah,” they agreed. Added, “Payment for the ones that didn’t is gonna come out of Elgar’nan’s skin.”
That got the edge of a smile on Mirevas’ mouth. Ayden relaxed a little. Kicked their heels against the wall they were sitting on.
“What’s your big plan,” they asked, “If we win?”
Mirevas made a dismissive noise, which was about all the answer that Ayden had expected. She’d been cagey the whole time, but in a way where she mostly just didn’t answer questions she didn’t want to. They could respect that.
“I’m looking forward to getting back to Antiva,” they said. “But I could be convinced to stick around for a bit. Depending on who was asking.”
“You like to think you’re charming, don’t you?” Mirevas said, voice dry.
“Sure, but I like it better when other people agree,” they replied, giving her their very best grin.
She only gave them a brief glance, but there was still enough of a smile at the edge of her mouth that it felt like winning something. They took the opportunity to give her more of a look over. Trying to see how she’d made it through the battle so far. Just because Ayden hadn’t seen her take any major blows didn’t mean she hadn’t. But they didn’t spot anything.
“You’re staring,” she commented, after a few long moments.
“Just making sure you didn’t get a Venatori knife to the spine and haven’t told anyone about it or anything,” they said. “I know you’re the type.”
“I don’t need your concern,” Mirevas said, not unkindly.
“Sure, you’re gonna say that,” they said. “But need isn’t really the question. You do a lot of looking out for other people. I feel better knowing someone’s looking out for you too.”
“Was the flirting related or were you just trying to soften me up?”
“It’s not not related. I’d watch your back no matter what, but. Y’know. It’s the big fight, isn’t it?” they said. It felt a bit more like they were musing to themselves, looking out at the crushed part of the city, scattered rubble and calcified blight. “You’re supposed to make a move at the end of the world, right? You’re not interested, no harm no foul, just thought I’d—”
Mirevas had moved without them even noticing, stepped between their knees where they were sitting on the wall, reached up and took the braid behind their ear between finger and thumb, and tugged them forward into a kiss.
“I don’t like starting things without following through,” she said, after letting them pull back a little. “We both survive this, we can talk then.”
Ayden felt a grin spread across their face. They pressed another kiss to Mirevas’ lips, just to feel the softness of them again, and said, “I’m holding you to that.”