twoforsurprise | One Short Day In Antiva City

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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A ring found outside of the Dellamorte Estate, of which only Illario was currently in residence. Caterina's, tossed out as if with the trash. No way he would do such a thing - he'd try to at least pawn it... And it wasn't just any ring, but the one she'd given Lucanis' mother to mark her as her favored. The one that was sent back to her by the people who killed Lucanis' mother.

Caterina wasn't dead. Not yet, anyway. Illario had her. And Zara - dead, but not the vengeance Lucanis wanted. Hoped for. Not with the knowledge of who had betrayed him. Maybe it would have been obvious to anyone else - maybe by that point it was obvious to everyone else - but Lucanis had a big blind spot when it came to his cousin.

Lucanis wasn't coping well. Even with Davrin's help, he'd fallen into old bad habits, him and Spite regularly at each other's throats. He paced back and forth in the small pantry. They needed to meet up with Teia and Viago to get more information. He had to focus, he had to wake up -

{{ LET US OUT! }} Spite howled, following Lucanis' every step.

There were stories that fit in Bellara's serials- the obvious betrayer, the suspected lover that would be redeemed, the close friend with villainous intent- and then there was real life. Real life, tragically, rarely fit into those nice and neat boxes of the fictional. If they did, Varric would have retired a decade ago and served as a wise sage rather than dying at the hand of a friend. So Davrin didn't wonder why Lucanis hadn't seen it, didn't think it was such an obvious, age old tale. Not when the traitor had gone out of the way to watch a childhood pet murder- ahem- venomous snake after betraying his brother. Not when Illario had been loved.

He did see Lucanis and Spite ripping into each other as an inevitable end to this kind of emotional turmoil, however. Leaving him to lean at the entrance to the pantry, arms crossed, and watching the one visible member of the pair pace.

"You could stay here."

"No!" Lucanis yelled- the same time Spite howled out the same, though only Lucanis could hear it. The first agreement they'd had in days. It showed on Lucanis' face, the dark circles under his eyes. He took a breath, clenched and unclenched his hands.

"No."

There, more calm, more reasonable sounding. He began to pace again. The water wasn't boiling fast enough.

"This is my business. I will take care of it. I need to."

Davrin didn't disagree, really. In an ideal world of justice, punishment would be handed out by an impartial force. In reality, justice was a hard enough thing to come across that any flavor it came in- personal or otherwise- had to be respected. But he had needed to offer, at least.

"Fine. So what's the plan?"

And serve as a sounding board. That, too, he could manage.

Lucanis was not good at talking about his plans. Once he'd made one, he preferred to not speak to anyone, to just do it. Unfortunately, he wasn't even to that stage yet. He had no plan, just awful feelings he was struggling to contain. He needed to focus-

{{ VENGEANCE! We trusted him! KILL HIM! }}

"NO! NO, that is NOT an option!"

{{ BLOOD FOR BLOOD! }}

"Be quiet and let me think!"

{{ DO NOT THINK! JUST SIT IMPRISONED! WE HAD A DEAL! }}

Lucanis' nose was bleeding again and he pressed the heel of his palm to the side of his head. Ignore him. Ignore him

"We ... need to meet with Teia and Viago- they can tell us what's been going on in Treviso."

The last part said through gritted teeth. While he had been returning - often, really, it had been to take care of blight. He rarely spent any time in the company of other crows, and seemed to be outright avoiding them in some cases. Illario had impressed upon him the danger his demon posed, and he was not wrong.

"Right."

Spite usually wasn't this bad, but while Davrin hadn't made total peace with the demon, he'd at least learned to adapt to the fact it was there. So it's little surprise he has a clean cloth on hand to pass to Lucanis for the not terribly uncommon nose bleed. It wasn't a sight he enjoyed, but given everything? This seemed like the pot finally boiling over after threatening to for so long. Unpleasant, but inevitable.

"Can you make it? I can bring at least one of them here."

It's not a bad plan - avoid Illario overhearing, or one of his people, avoid bringing the trouble that is Spite to Treviso. He is harboring a demon, he is bringing trouble home every time he goes--

When Lucanis' head raises, it's Spite's eyes glowing like purple embers as he turns to look at Davrin.

"Help us."

Did he trust a demon? Not really, no. As much a part of Lucanis' Spite was, Davrin couldn't bring himself to put full faith into such a creature. But this was different. It wasn't Spite screeching about how Lucanis had lied to him, that Davrin needed to make him listen. Help us. They were both in trouble, not just the demon resenting his host.

So, there were no questions to be asked. Just a demand:

"Tell me what to do."

"He will listen to you."

It doesn't make much sense, maybe, but Davrin is willing to try. So that's what Spite says before reaching out like a striking snake to grab the collar of Davrin's shirt and pull-

And they're someplace else. Not the pantry. Still the Fade? But it's all washed out, colors barely a hint of what they should be among gray and more gray. Davrin wasn't there when they sprung Lucanis from the Ossuary, and while Lucanis does not talk about that place beyond 'underwater elven ruin used as a prison', Rook was likely quick to talk about it and Neve was not one for keeping this secret.

So, that architecture, so like what's been sprouting out of the ground in Arlathan forest, it's pretty recognizable as Elvhenan. Instead of trees and shrubbery overtaking it though, it's coral - mixed in and slowly devouring the building, all the stranger for the bright colors it should be being so faded. A dead end of archways and filigree walls and one clear arched path forward across uneven ground, water kept away by magical barriers even as the shadows of massive creatures float just beyond sight.

And - someone else there. Might even look like a stranger for a moment, because this too is not a sight Davrin's seen before. Spite has always just looked like Lucanis before, sometimes with his phantasmal wings, always with the glowing eyes. Now - still Lucanis, but a younger Lucanis. Just a year and a few months, but what a difference that made. Shorter hair, no beard, different clothing - and yet also without a thinness that was hard to get rid of. This was the Lucanis that had gotten on the boat to Minrathos. Lucanis before he had been betrayed.

Also washed out of all color except an effervescent purple aura, the black boned wings with phantasmal purple feathers and the glowing ember purple eyes. Spite.

This was...unexpected wasn't the right word. Unexpected didn't start to cover this. Was he in a different section of the Fade? Was Spite in him? Where was Emmrich when he would be useful?

He have himself a full second to let all that wash over him, then focused back on the job at hand. Wherever he was, it was where Spite needed him- and presumably Lucanis needed him- to help. Somehow.

A dark shadow passed over them and he turned slightly to watch, the scene so close to Rook's meditation room, yet an entire world away from the calm aura their leader tried to cultivate there. He wonderful, fleetingly, if Lucanis avoided that room. But there was no time or true interest for scenery. Not with this separate, but maybe oddly more whole, Spite/Lucanis staring purple at him.

"What did you do?"

Emmrich would probably be useful here. On the other hand, he might be too distracted by everything to be much help. Hard to say sometimes. Now though it was just Davrin and Spite. And, somewhere, Lucanis.

"Brought you as far as I can," Spite explained with a hiss. "Lucanis is here. Always here."

He gestured deeper in, teeth bared. A long open corridor of broken ruins and shields holding the ocean out, once beautiful tile broken up by coral and centuries of small earthquakes. Let us out he had said, so many times.

"Locked doors. I can't get to him. You might."

Half of the Fade was symbolism and double meanings. Davrin was not a fan of either. There was nothing to do, though, but push ahead. At least he could still literally walk forward instead of having to complete some symbolic gesture. He made his way to the first closed door, but continued to interrogate Spite the best he could as he went.

"How did our mages not notice he was still- what? Enchanted?"

Had the Venatori blood magic never been fully purged? Hidden, maybe, by the presence of Spite.

"No enchantment. Him."

Just him. His guilt, his shame, his fear. Feelings made reality in the Fade. Especially strong ones. Little in Lucanis was stronger than this.

And the symbolism and double-meanings was just getting started.

Murmurs became audible as they walked, voices becoming clearer and clearer. Outside their obvious path pieces were breaking off, floating in the water. Some... didn't fit. Dining chairs or tables. A piece of art. More fitting to an expensive house in Treviso than what the Ossuary was supposed to be like.

'I was supposed to have a useful demon, and instead I have a useless abomination! Wonderful!'

A sarcastic voice, an echo without a person.

'What ARE you hiding, little demon?'

That one more recognizable. Zara. Obviously pleased. Just the sound of her voice had Spite growling as he followed after Davrin.

"Here, always here! Can't get past the locks."

"Show me the locks."

The Fade was feeling, and Davrin always felt very strongly he should have his sword and shield. He could break them, kick them in as he had a hundreds others. He hope- no, no room for doubt. Lucanis needed it done. He could do it. This wasn't quite the hunt he'd been working on the past few weeks, but it wasn't one he would allow himself to fail. Find the Crow, kill anything that got in the way. Easy. Especially having had the advantage of already killing Zara once.

"Lucanis!"

Funny how things in the Fade worked like that. Davrin felt he should he armed -- Lucanis always pictured Davrin fully armed and armored. He felt he should have it, so it was there.

Helpful, the first door was sealed by those fucking blood magic crystals that the venatori used. The red a bright vivid color that seemed to bleed out compared to all the gray, something that hurt to look at. Smoke poured out of the unsealed door. Going through it -

Not the Ossuary. Rows upon rows of bookshelves, tasteful artwork, bespoke carved chairs with comfortible upholstery. It was the library of the Estate, but the warmth of the fireplaces weren't going. A plush toy lay forgotten next to one of the smaller chairs, a little stuffed wyvern.

Notes were scattered around, bits of paper with Lucanis' handwriting about the ring, his mother's, about Illario... and near the other end of the library, a pillar of white light like an indistinct spirit that solidified into an older woman who Lucanis bore a resemblance to - the absent Caterina, no doubt. Spite hissed softly, moving closer to Davrin like he was trying to use the warrior as a shield.

It's instinctual, to accept being the living shield between the threat and an ally, and Davrin consciously decides not to dwell on Spite of all creatures falling into the category of someo-thing to protect. He simply hefts his shield up, sword drawn and ready for the Old Woman before them to turn into a rage demon or the like, and presses onward.

If Rook were here, all those notes and little details would no doubt have been read and categorized. Davrin wasn't Rook. He noted the stuffed animal, the general decor and layout of the room, but didn't stopped to read what, likely, would be helpful insights into Lucanis. Some that might help now, some that could help later, if they continued their hunt after all this. He was too focused on the threat ahead.

"I've only got time for the demon I know. Go on, get on with it."

She ... remains an old woman. Not that she needs to turn into anything else. There's an oppressiveness to her being. A sense of presence, like a massive thunderstorm on the horizon approaching. An act of nature that cannot be fought, only endured. She is an old woman shorter than Davrin - shorter than Lucanis thanks to being stooped with age, she has a cane, but she's still dressed in the Crow blacks. She still reads as overt threat.

"The demon you're protecting!" the old woman, Caterina, says with a sneer. Judgemental. The sense of disappointment almost choking with the oppressiveness. Outside of the high windows in the library, water, and ocean, more shadows move. The bookcases start leaking. Sea water, mostly.

Some blood.

"I sent Rook to save my grandson and they bring back an abomination."

"Rejection and relief. Tenderness and terror. Fear of disappointment. The hurt comes either way, but if you deserve it, it hurts less," Spite hissed behind Davrin.

The old woman stayed an old woman. Davrin remained at the ready, sword and shield as they were, but didn't progress any further. Nor did he engage directly with the crone just yet. While he would have picked any number of other guides for fighting in the Fade, Spite was what he had. At least he was in a talkative mood- though, he probably always was. He just didn't get the chance to indulge in it much.

Eyes on the old woman, he spoke only to Spite. He was getting less optimistic this was something he could just stab his way through, but there was still a chance.

"Despair demon or something else?"

"No demon! He's mine! No others!" Spite hissed, angry. Expressing thoughts using a voice was by far the least efficient way of communication, and he was not one to hide his frustration. "Lucanis. All Lucanis!"

The prison. The guards. The locks. All of it.

Damn it. Demons were straight forward - except for Spite, but there was blood magic involved there. This was different. This was a lifetime of just drink coffee and work bubbling up. As a man who just drank tea and stabbed Darkspawn, he understood it. But facing it?

He lowered the sword, but kept the shield up. Just in case he got lucky and it turned into a fight after all.

"You can't know that's how it'll go."

He kept his eyes on the woman, but he was speaking past her, around her. To the omnipresent Lucanis that had apparently made this.

Problems you could stab were so much more straightforward than accepting the lies you told yourself to keep living your life, of all the pain shoved into dark corners of the mind to ignore until they made themselves impossible to ignore, every contract coming due at the same time.

Most simply had to have a nervous breakdown about it. Spite made things more complicated when it came to dealing with it. Gave another option.

'That demon is too dangerous, it puts everyone at risk when it's around.'

Illario's voice, haunting through the room. The mixture of blood and sea water was pooling around their feet.

"Being wrong means people die," Caterina said, eyes cold and hard. "Can that risk be taken after we have already lost so much, because of his failure?"

He was going to have to talk to her, wasn't he. The woman he was only glad was alive for Lucanis' sake- and the general idea that most people didn't deserve to die just because you disagreed with them. Worse, Davrin had to talk to the idealized version Lucanis had in his head of the woman.

Gods, he would never complain about telling Spite a bloody horror story again.

"First, the traitor doesn't get to talk about people getting hurt." One voice at a time to argue with, please. "And if your- ugh, if you care Lucanis like he thinks you do, a little thing like a demon won't change it. Not when it's why Lucanis is alive."

That was the stick of it, wasn't it. This wasn't even the real Caterina. This was what Lucanis saw of her - what he felt about her, feared about her. Maybe that was better. Maybe this Caterina was more reasonable, someone who was certainly motivated by love. Her eyes still hold the threat of disappointment in them, of disapproval, but she faded away into a pillar of light that dissipated into a cloud of wisps. The water began to rise up farther, and at the other end of the library a door that wasn't there before stood open, showing more of the Ossuary beyond it.

"Good, good! He listens to you," Spite encouraged, pushing Davrin towards the open door.

... He hadn't actually been certain this was going to work, but was clearly pleased to be right so far.

Well. At least a demon had faith in him. He'd be sure to report that back to the remaining wardens. But he had some clue what they might be facing now and, reluctantly, put the sword and shield away. This was going to be all...talking. About feelings. He could do this, but Lucanis was going to owe him a hell of a dinner date.

He runs towards the next door, nearly as ready as Spite was to get through all the locks.

The Ossuary, mainly - with bits and pieces of Lucanis' childhood home merged in haphazardly, with those having the most blood and sometimes the echoes of screams. More notes, Lucanis' handwriting, the tight neat lines getting messier and messier until it started appearing on the walls, STAY AWAKE scrawled out in some dark substance.

'Still fighting?' Zara's voice taunted. 'Tiresome. There's no point, you know. Nothing awaits you anymore. You're long dead.'

It's how they had held him for so long. Somehow they convinced his family he had been dead. A body changed with blood magic made to look like him, apparently. Caterina had suspected the truth, though, and never given up on him, but the others - they'd had a funeral. Apparently he had a gravestone somewhere.

The next sealed doorway was guarded by another figure - the pillar of light solidifying into none other than their team leader. Rook, hands on hips, looking pensive as they looked up as Davrin approached.

"I'm worried you were right. There's nothing left of a person in there, this is just a demon," they said, brows furrowed.

Inner Demons!

\o/

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(WHEE no need to be hampered by re-using game elements...)

yaaay

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Davrin you're incredible

so much lore ignored

peak "I'm a hammer so every problem is a nail"

Hasn't failed yet

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