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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Assan and Spite were really the only things standing between them and a possible untimely end out here in the open, but the normally paranoid Lucanis couldn't bring himself to care. Not when Davrin's mouth was against his neck and it felt like everything inside of him was on fire, pulse rapid with the excitement. Hands trapped - and Fuck why did he wear an undershirt today? - he can't pull Davrin as flush as he wants to be, so that leg tightens again as Lucanis bucks his hips up, panting, swearing, every sensation near overwhelming.

It was, all in all, probably a good thing Lucanis had that undershirt. And overshirt. And vest. The entire excessive ensemble that Davrin now swore to himself he would learn to flawlessly button and unbutton by feel alone. Neither of them were prone to half-committing to a cause, but it wasn't his intention for their first real physical encounter (Rook walking in on a bit of necking only half counted) to go too far. Particularly not with poor Assan's eyes to think of. All those layers helped keep that in mind even as Lucanis bucked and Davrin couldn't help roll his hips down into his with a groan.

He breathed heavy against Lucanis' skin as he mouthed his way back up to his ear, freeing those hands again.

"I think-" and, damn, Neve would mock him for being a knight in shining armor wooing his love over this, if Lucanis didn't do it himself first. Still, expectations were important. "Just the shirts off this time, mm?"

Lucky for Davrin, Lucanis happened to have a soft spot for knights in shining armor like in his romance novels. He just didn't think they were actually real... and right now would have liked if Davrin was more of a rake instead. That roll of his hips was making Lucanis believe in some kind of divinity. As soon as his hands were free once more, Lucanis made quick work of the rest of the buttons like he was on a timer and needed to prove something.

"Does that mean you'll actually take it off?"

Lucanis' question was breathless, just this side of teasing, nipping at Davrin's ear and rolling his hips up again. He'd appreciate Davrin's restraint later on, but right now he was drunk on the wanting.

"Maybe. If you ask nicely."

He'd already gotten a please. He was pushing it. But a whole sentence of Lucanis asking Davrin to undress him? That might try his knightly virtue a bit- more than a bit and that was on top of what Lucanis moving his hips was doing. He was going to have to dive into the frigid river after this before he could show his face in the Lighthouse again.

But he was a man of principle. So only undid one more button on the Crow's shirt, even as he rolled his shoulders and let Lucanis remove his own tunic.

Hm. He was going to have to figure out what to do with that silver chain on his shirt, too, wasn't he. Fashion. He'd never understand it.

Lucanis's hands ran along Davrin's skin as he pushed the fabric off the other man, feeling all that hard muscle that was affecting Lucanis more than he'd want to normally admit. And as far as Crows were concerned, his fashion WAS desperately simple and barely deserved to be called fashion at all.

There were all kinds of things he was told as he was raised. A Dellamorte does not kneel. A Dellamorte does not beg. He wanted to do both for Davrin.

"I want to feel your hands on my skin again," Lucanis murmured into Davrin's ear as his own hands grasped as Davrin's back. "Please."

The Wardens of old and all the training they had passed down were owed thanks for the fact Davrin didn't just rip the shirt open then and there. Between hands on his own skin and that voice, it was still a near thing. But Lucanis had held back, damn right he could too.

"You," he spoke against Lucanis' skin as he moved down and over, to the other side of his neck, "could make a good dog break his leash."

He bit down to punctuate the statement, harder than before. No where near enough to break skin, but enough to leave a mark if left to it. Undeniably possessive.

With some of the burning in his blood redirected, his fingers finally moved at a reasonable pace, rapidly undoing the remaining buttons.

It was tempting to make a sarcastic comment about good dog, but Davrin's bite to his neck made everything else flee Lucanis' mind as his nails scraped down Davrin's back. The sweet sting of pain with the pleasure, knowing he'd have a mark left behind from this - Lucanis' moan was shaking when it escaped his throat, body surging against Davrin's. He wanted more, wanted a whole collar of those marks. He'd never been so happy his undershirt was a simple pull over without any buttons to struggle with, eager to shrug out of the shirt and the undershirt, panting, leaning up to capture Davrin's lips in another kiss as soon as he could.

Davrin, too, was ready to celebrate the lack of buttons. If he ever went to Antivan City again he was going to that tailor and demanding- okay, politely requesting- he keep ease of removal in mind. Five buttons at most.

He released Lucanis' neck long enough to haul him up to a sitting position and help him finally shuck all those layers off, almost tangling his own hand in that damn chain in the process. He stayed sitting up once the garments were removed, watching his own fingers trail down from that bite mark to the hem of his trousers. Not avoiding or reaching to touch any particular scars, just following the natural lines of his chest.

"You should just walk around the Lighthouse like this."

Lucanis is happy to be moved as Davrin wants him to - even if he's not much help, touching, kissing, grasping on to Davrin just to stay steady. The warden almost getting tangled up in the chain does get a brief laugh, but one that's quickly covered by another heated kiss. He's so hungry for Davrin. For the taste of his skin, the sound of his voice, Lucanis is starved for it.

"I could say the same. Then again, with how open you leave your shirts..." he traces the line of Davrin's collarbone with his fingers.

"I wear heavy armor in the field. At home, it's nice being able to move a little."

It's not quite defensive, but a slight blush forms that somehow intimately mauling each other hadn't managed. The whole thing...it was like being a teenager again, the honesty and eagerness of it all. Davrin wasn't complaining, but the other residents of Lighthouse might be in for some accidental eyefuls now the dam was broken.

He slid his hands around to Lucanis' back, bringing their chests together and resuming the opened mouth kissing, not thinking as fingers traced the straight scars running along his back.

"Uh huh," Lucanis replies, smiling against Davrin's lips before the next kiss, like he doesn't believe that reason. Okay, he sort of does, but he finds it hard to believe there's not a little desire to show off there. If nothing else, who wouldn't, if they looked like Davrin looked? He's certain he's caught Neve looking more than once, too. Davrin is good to look at, this is an objective fact. He's so caught up in the kissing, the touching - but the fingers tracing the long scars against his back somehow catch him by surprise. He tenses without meaning to, and there's a brilliant flash of purple as Spite's wings suddenly manifest, purple veilfire that can scorch stone but doesn't burn Lucanis - or Davrin.

"-- Sorry - sorry - just - surprised-"

He'd jerked his hands back at the response, pulling back as well to check Lucanis' eyes to see if Spite was sticking around to make himself known now that the tea was fading and Davrin couldn't hear his comments easily organically. But, no, the assassin is back. He reached forward to trace one side of his face, from temple to chin, with curiosity only a lightly tinged with concern.

"Good or bad surprise?"

Lucanis' eyes are all him, but wide with an edge of fear, worry, searching Davrin's face looking for any sign of rejection.

Only curiosity, only concern. His heart aches behind his ribs. His eyes close, face tilting into Davrin's touch, shoulders sagging in relief. He turns his face just a little bit more to press a kiss to Davrin's palm.

"Both? I liked the touch. I don't like that I reacted that way."

That he had lost so much control of himself that he had a reaction at all. Lucanis rolled his shoulders and the wings beat before curling around the both of them protectively.

It wasn't how he saw their- and, again, he felt a teenager again just thinking it- necking session slowing down, but he wasn't put off or upset. It was good, figuring out the lines and issues each had. That was the whole point of starting out slow, so it didn't accidently explode in daggers and griffons later on.

Davrin couldn't help glancing up through the wings as they curled, though. He'd seen them, of course. In battle and when Spite and Assan had their...fun? He guessed demons could have fun. But he'd never been this close, able to look through them, and it brought a faint sense of wonder to see them from this side.

But Lucanis was more important than the wonder, and he slid his hand to the back of his neck, tugging the Crow closer, to rest foreheads against each other. When he spoke it was still curious, not pushing. Lucanis could say no, if he wanted. He wouldn't say a word to press it.

"You want to say it? What's important about those marks?"

Lucanis exhaled slowly, heavily, as his forehead pressed against Davrin. As Davrin's steady hand rested on the back of his neck. He was not falling, he was held safely here. Davrin had seen him and not pushed him away. Again and again. While Lucanis' arms around Davrin were less passionate embrace now, he still held tight to the other man as if afraid of drowning.

Lucanis wasn't sure where to even begin about the marks. It was so straightforward in his mind, 'training', that was all. What else mattered? Why should they matter? That wasn't what came out, though.

"Illario would press ice against them, right after. Wrapped in a cloth. I'd do the same for him."

Lucanis' voice was a quiet murmur, eyes still closed.

He slipped his other arm around Lucanis' lower back. Not touching anything, just helping to hold the other man close. Skin against skin, from forehead to sternum.

"Family scars."

It wasn't joke, his serious tone keeping away any chance of a pun. It was literal. He was a born and raised Crow, and this were ones clearly intentionally given, not some early mission gone wrong.

The purple light cast colorful shadows against skin, shimmering as the wings began to fade - feathers shedding into nothing. Just Lucanis again.

"Training. I wasn't unique."

Who had put a hand on them since Illario, when they were children? His tailor had always been careful to not touch them. Zara and her cronies? He didn't want that as the only memories of it.

"Touch them again. Please."

"You were. Both of you."

Training could be the excuse, but at the end of the day it was family. His parents, his grandmother, overseeing it all. There was nothing wrong, in his mind, to recognizing the difference. Would it have been fair if they'd been spared? Probably not, in the view of other Crows. But it didn't change anything, didn't make it right. The other Crows didn't have their own blood handing the 'training' down. Could keep it separate.

But he was more than willing to obey. He left his hand on the back of his neck, running the fingers sitting at the base of Lucanis' spine lightly up one scar and down another. Over and over, as long as he was allowed.

"You'll just have to forgive me. That I don't like your family very much."

That was putting it lightly. But considering how much was still left to be done between his cousin and his grandmother, a tactical approach seemed best. Maybe once the gods were dead he could press the issue a little harder. Or a decade from now, if he was going to play with the idea of a future anyway.

Lucanis shifts so he can press his face into one of Davrin's broad shoulders, arms wrapped tightly around him. Another brief tensing at the first touch before Lucanis relaxes into it, practically sags against Davrin as he feels along old lines with careful hands. They don't hurt anymore, haven't for years. The scar tissue is old enough that it's only slightly less touch sensitive than the skin around it. In another ten, twenty years, they'll be barely more than shadows. Assuming he lives that long, never a guarantee in his line of work even without the complications of gods.

Inhale. Exhale. Measured.

"It's family. Family is always complicated. You understand, right?"

After all, Davrin had left his because of complications.

"Complicated, sure. And I guess they all leave their scars," he shifted slightly, just enough to press a kiss to Lucanis' face- his cheek, nose? whatever he could reach, fingers still tracing along his back. "But they're not my family. I don't have to understand them. I can be pissed in your name."

If Lucanis wanted to march into Davrin's old Dalish clan and yell at them about his own upbringing- well, that probably wouldn't end well. Enough humans had slung that lecture at the Dalish over the ages that most didn't get past the first sentence before arrows flew. But in sentiment, he liked to think he'd be at peace with it. Maybe.

It was harder, he had to admit. Trying to objectively see your own family.

Thinking along the same lines, Lucanis let out a faint snort of a laugh.

"Somehow I don't think that would work as well if I tried it."

This was an old argument Lucanis had many times, though. With Illario, who felt they were treated unfairly. He wanted to fight. Lucanis had been the one to bend.

And this was how it had turned out.

"Have you ever tried reaching out to them again? Your family?"

"Not since I left the forest. They made it clear I'd rejected them when I left the clan."

He didn't agree with the sentiment. He'd wanted to see more of the world not less of the clan. But it was the same to them, black or white, in or out. So he was out. It used to bother him more, but he's made a kind of peace with it and it showed in his voice. A different part of his life, well in the past.

"Besides, Wardens aren't supposed to keep up with those kinds of connections. Distracts us from the job."

He said, as he softly ran his fingers along Lucanis' bare back, stroked the back of his neck, smelled his hair. Clearly, he was taking that part very seriously right now.

Lucanis couldn't imagine just accepting that kind of separation, but he had never been able to walk away in the first place. He nuzzled against Davrin's throat, sighing. Wondered how much effort it would take to mark Davrin's darker skin with a bite, too.

"I think 'risen blighted gods' is cause for exception to such rules. Especially given who is in charge now."

Not that Lucanis spoke much to either Antone or Evka, but the few times he was around for the interactions they seemed very down to earth and understanding, not the type that had been too long holding to ancient tradition as the first Warden had.

"They told you to come out here after all."

Something Lucanis was certainly grateful for.

"Those two are romantics. Not many wardens get in relationships at all, never mind married. But you're right. All signs point to the Wardens changing something about themselves."

There were too few left and the Blight itself was different. Not just changed by the gods, but the knowledge of what it was changed things. He sighed softly, not wanting to sink into the kind of reflection he was eventually going to have to face just then. Instead he smiled, a little mischievously, and leaned fully backwards to lay on his back on the blanket, doing his best to drag Lucanis with him so the Crow was sprawled on Davrin's chest, nestled between his legs. The opposite of their arrangement only a few minutes ago.

"Not sure I know how to change like that."

Lucanis let out a surprised sound as Davrin tipped back, neatly switching their positions from earlier so Lucanis was sprawled on top of him. He let out a short laugh then, shifting to lean up on one of his arms to better mirror Davrin's initial position, ducking down for a quick kiss.

"Mmm. Well. This is new and a change for me. Not all of us are mighty hunters."

Another kiss, slower, softer.

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