Lucanis Dellamorte {& ǝʇᴉds} (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
twoforsurprise) wrote2022-12-22 12:25 pm
twoforsurprise) wrote2022-12-22 12:25 pm
One Short Day In Antiva City
Davrin might have forgotten Lucanis' offer about the tailor, but he had not. Not all of their excursions were for fighting demons or cultists or darkspawn, and eventually Rook was going treasure hunting on the Rivani coast with Taash and Harding. And just them. Quite adamant that only Taash and Harding were needed, in fact.
Andraste preserve them, Rook was apparently becoming interested in matchmaking.
It worked out, though. The timing. Lucanis ever so casually mentions that Davrin promised to assist him in some errands in Antiva and Rook is just so happy they're not at each other's throats that they're told to not take however long they need. Lucanis makes a mental note to pick up something nice for Rook when they're in Antiva City.
Ah, Antiva City. A less beautiful Treviso, Lucanis used to say. That was before the Ossuary, before the occupation, before the blight. Now it's hard to not see everything that's been lost. He doesn't insult Davrin by assuming the man can't keep up with the Crow routes along the rooftops and across ziplines, so much faster than the weaving crowded streets up the hill the city is built on overlooking the harbor the few times they need to duck down to street level.
"Should be right around - ah, there it is," Lucanis declares once they're half way up the hill, the financial district of the city settled between the Palace at the top and the harbor and all the wealth the shipping industry brings. This time when he drops down to the street level it is where they'll stay for the time being, heading to an understated store front with a simple hanging sign that looks like an embroidered rose carved into the wood of it.
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Discretion, sure. But then there was sliding his hand up a bit to nearly meet Lucanis', ending up with his palm and fingers half splayed over old wound, half over the new. Even as he grinned at the whole mental image.
"How'd you take it out? Aggressive combing?"
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"Knives," Lucanis answered, smiling. It was usually knives. "The wigmaker ate some of the possessed hair and became the biggest abomination I'd ever seen. Like one of those giant spiders they have in the south, just - half made of hair. Cut off some of the legs then split him open. When he died, the rest of the demons that came through had nothing to anchor to and dissipated."
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The Davrin book of hunting all things demonic and monstrous- now including hair demons. For prosperity if nothing else, since he truly hoped those specific circumstances never lined up again.
"How to kill it. Where it came from we'll leave out. I don't want to start inspiring the next generation of idiotic blood mages."
He moved his thumb slightly, feeling the edge of a once broken rib- now healed, fine. Like Davrin's own bones, more often crushed under that armor than his skin was ever sliced open. He paused, weighing- then moved forward. Because when had he ever stopped to really consider every move before throwing himself into danger? But he watched Lucanis carefully, trying to read into any reaction before carrying on.
"I want to ask you something."
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Okay, maybe sometimes you needed a special knife to do it, but 'stab it' hadn't failed Lucanis yet, provided he made the shot.
A little shiver ran through him at the touch to the once injured rib, remembering the pain of it, of limping his way to the docks and finding Illario in the tavern after. Just a memory now, a dull ache a little lower from the more recent injury.
Cautious, but not spooked. This moment felt fragile, and Lucanis wondered how long before it shattered like a bubble frosted over.
"I might answer, depending on the question."
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Solid start. Begin in fact. He watched his own thumb moving along that rib, slow but certain. His hands were also sure, even when his mind was far from it. Helpful trait for a soldier.
"But when it comes to...people," his voice even sounded steady. Good for him. Now there was just one last bit to get through as he took a breath and tried to catch Lucanis' eyes again. "I don't chase people that don't want to be caught."
((Cut Off or Express Romantic Interest (does not commit to romance). Honestly went back and forth here, if it's too rushed let me know and we can step back.))
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This is probably a bad idea for so many reasons. Yet even as he can come up with dozens of them and so few for why to continue...
His own words are slow, carefully spoken, his own dark eyes meeting Davrin's.
"...I am ... not something that has been caught before."
(Not been pursued as far as he knows. Too good at being just out of reach. No idea how to start such a chase himself. )
(( I love it! I'd been waffling too since it's such a good moment... ))
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There were people, Davrin was aware, that simply weren't interested in being pursued by anyone. They weren't uncommon in the Wardens overall, considering the lives they led. Some by choice after heavy loss, some just by nature. But he could have sworn he'd at least caught a glance or two from Lucanis, hints that might not be the Crow's situation. But that was the point of asking directly. No second guessing if he should or shouldn't because it might not be wanted. Whether it would work- they would work- if it was a good idea, if either of them liked what happened after the hunt was done? Different conversations for later days.
Assuming they survived that long.
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('Your Warden', Teia had said.)
He had watched the coy games of flirtation that Illario played with his marks (they were all marks, one way or another). It had seemed like a wholly different language to Lucanis, he could speak the same words but his intonation was all wrong. He couldn't understand what he was missing. This forwardness, it was - unexpected.
Good.
It was entirely possible Davrin would be disappointed with what he found, what he caught. It was also entirely possible they would die tomorrow.
He had spent so much of his life letting other people dictate his life for him, never making a choice of his own. If he only got one... there were worse ones to make. He shifted his hand, fingertips brushing against Davrin's.
"Yes. I would like that."
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Obvious? Yes. But he was fine sounding a little foolish, now that a tension he'd been holding in his shoulders, his spine, without knowing it flowed down to a delicious heated coil in his midsection. The hunt was on.
He slid his hand off Lucanis' chest, moving to grip the Crow's fingers and raising the hand up, out of the water, to press his lips against the palm before releasing him. He didn't know what his face must look like as he kissed his hand, but Davrin could almost feel a fire in his own eyes now the challenge was accepted. It might take a while- hells, may not happen until the gods were dead and the world possibly re-made given how much they sniped at each other even on a good day, given how much personal weight they both had yet to sort through. But he was going to devour this man.
Later.
"After you sleep."
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"I don't need sleep, I just need some coffee."
Or their sniping would be back on.
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"If you fall asleep half-way through cooking his dinner, I'm not stopping Assan from eating you instead."
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"A better meal still than yams."
Truly he had nothing against yams, but it was fun to tease. It belatedly only then occurred to him that this was perhaps why.
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Grilled, baked, something. Just to prove they were not the poisons Lucanis was on about. However, any energy behind the retort was ruined by the lingering smile, the appreciative way he watched the other man. Just enjoying the moment while they could.
((seems like we're getting to a good wrap spot for this one?))
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Really, he could think of nothing better right then.
(( sounds good to me! Awwww. Any preference for what to do next? I can come up with a few prompts when I get off work too! ))