It was funny - when Davrin thought that- that this might not be as bad as Rook had found him - it was like those carved reliefs where if you point the light on one side the shadows form one image, but change the angle and it gives a different image.

Lucanis, exactly as Davrin had met him, maybe with darker circles under his eyes but otherwise the polished Crow. Lucanis, worn out and tired, worse than he let himself be seen. Lucanis, truly haggard, cheeks sunken, shadows under his eyes darker than ever before, tevinter prison clothing stained with blood and shackles leaving deep bruises on wrists and ankles.

He drew in a breath when Davrin knelt. All the first Lucanis - put together, polished. He didn't hide from harsh truths.. but neither did he want Davrin to see him like this. He sagged slightly at the hands on his shoulders, leaned in to press his forehead against the elf's.

"You shouldn't have. This is no place for you. You should go."

His voice was gentle and sad, reaching up to cover one of Davrin's hands with his own and squeeze it.

"See?! He stays! Keeps us BOTH here!"

Spite had no problems ruining this moment, apparently. Lucanis swore.

"Who would want to stay here?"