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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Neve had made fun of him once, for enjoying the hunt far more than the catch. And, truth be told, that mindset had been a problem in previous encounters. One off nights that never evolved into anything more because the interest died when the hunt was done. It was hard to imagine a life where the assassin besides him ever fully gave up the hunt- that one of them would ever win whatever romantic war game they'd found themselves in.
He broke Lucanis' gaze to toss his free arm over his face with a small groan, forearm blocking the light as his stomach and head, no longer pushed to the back of his mind with more enjoyable activities, started making themselves known.
"I'm going to be hungover in a few minutes, I think."
He was never drinking gingerwort again. Unless Spite really needed a talking to.
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"Next time, I think I pick the drinks."
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This was good, more than. They'd lay and be miserable and together. Then go back to the Lighthouse and deal with the impossibly dangerous reality they lived in. Eventually.
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Perfectly reasonable.
"Unfortunately the vinyards we own suffered with the Antaam invasion, but we've found alternative work and lodgings for the farmers in the meantime and are hopeful they're not lost completely by the time they're able to safely return."
Because of course they owned multiple fucking vinyards. All said with a completely straight face, though the very corner of his mouth was ever so slightly upturned. Okay, he knew it was a little much compared to the rest of the party...
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He laughed even as it shook his head in a slightly unpleasant way. It was good they took care of their people- it was more than any noble would do for an alienage they oversaw. But the sheer wealth Lucanis had grown up in was still incomprehensible. Not enviable, not with how he'd been raised and the price Lucanis had paid for it all. So there's no jealousy, simply amusement at a world Davrin had never imagined.
"When I left, I thought being able to shop in a market rather than forage for food was the height of luxury. You'll have to give me a house map. Don't want to confuse a storage closet for the dining room when I visit."
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But someone always would be willing to pay for murder, and this kept the coffers full when other things stagnated.
"I'm not sure we have maps - I'll just have to stay by your side. Or you can find one of the staff if you need."
Now he was leaning into it, trying not to laugh, too. He needed to not laugh - it might make him sick if he did. That would really put a damper on this.
"The storage areas are very cleverly hidden in the same wing that the main dining room is in."
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The laugh turned into a soft groan, and he squeezed Lucanis' hand. Assan was still nearby, he could hear his squawks and chirps, so he wasn't too concerned about an ambush given how lightly both he and the Crow slept. Safer here, probably, than walking through the crossroads right now.
"Think Spite would let us nap? Would he even know what to do with nausea?"
He frowned a little at that last bit, his mouth going before his brain again. Spite had been there through torture. Of course the symptoms of a small hangover would be nothing to the demon. But the first part of the question, at least, could stand.
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"It's nothing you want to see, I promise."
Getting rid of the nausea in the most direct way possible was how the demon decided to deal with that. Which meant very much puking until there was nothing left to puke up. It was ... messy. This was also one of the reasons why Lucanis very much did not want him to try eating anything strange while in control of his body.
"But I think he was pleased enough with today that we might get a nap in peace. Probably."
Spite gave a grumbling agreement off to the side, complaining about Lucanis being so picky about his problem solving methods.
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"Half an hour. That's all I ask."
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He did desperately hope Davrin's ability to hear Spite was truly gone, given the demon asked if he should cause a fuss just so Davrin would tie them up again, 'like Lucanis liked'.
"No, just let us rest. Half an hour. Please."
The last word being more of a grumble. Spite huffed and growled but ultimately agreed.
"He agrees to half an hour."
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He pressed a kiss into his hair once Lucanis had fully settled, content as a nauseated elf could be. Half an hour. He had no doubt Spite would be tracking the sun to wake him up on the dot.
((Good ending spot, unless you want to close it out with Spite's wake up call?))
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eta: here we go!))