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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Ah, well, now that was even more mildly embarrassing. Time to just ignore all that.

"Well. At least you will probably not have to explain to him how to make an egg?" Lucanis said instead of addressing anything else. Sure he was more than just an animal, but he seemed to have pretty solid instincts from what Lucanis was hearing.

"I'm going to forget you said that."

Entire conversation? Gone. He was having enough trouble with the fact they next generation would have to be, by default, inbred. Unless there was another ancient monster out there guarding a different clutch.

"But I know he'll appreciate you cooking for him. Just don't start it unless you're ready to make it a habit."

Trust Davrin, the once mighty Warden reduced to near full-time truffle hunter.

Maybe inbreeding didn't matter as much for griffons. One could hope whoever saved the one clutch had a plan for just that ~~and wasn't just doing her best in the 11th hour while struggling against her own Calling, praying whoever found them would have a solution~~.

"I have seen what everyone else eats when left to their own devices, I already make a habit of it for everyone else, why not him as well?" Lucanis didn't do one hundred percent of the cooking, but it was basically in the high seventies. "Besides, did I see you trying to feed him yams at one point?"

"What's wrong with yams?"

Said with the defensiveness of someone that has definitely spent at least a week eating nothing but baked yams on the road. Possibly more than once.

"Clans have lasted entire winter seasons on yams."

Lucanis leans in a bit, that faint smirk coming back to hear the defensiveness.

"And you are an elf. I admittedly do not know about griffons, but I have never witnessed a cat or a falcon eat a yam before," he said, ever so slightly teasing, but a bit exasperated as well.

"You want to be a professional griffon chef? Have at it. You'll be able to give up your coffee. Assan is nothing but hunger."

He'll be nudging at Lucanis all day and night for food, if the other man lets him. And for all his big scary demon of the Crows persona, Lucanis seemed to have a large soft spot when it came to animals- no, not just animals. People, too. Anyone, anything, willing to rely on him. Maybe that's how he ended up with Spite, the demon weaseling in to Lucanis' clear need to assist.

"But he still has to learn he can't always have what he wants. No one can."

Lucanis' business was murder, and his main hobby was taking care of people. What would he have become, had his grandmother not needed a weapon? He's not sure what caused Spite to be the demon that they were finally able to make stick. He knew it was not what Zara had been planning on, that he was a 'failure'. What she was actually trying for he was not sure.

He wanted to ask if that sentiment was what Davrin had learned from his parents, from his clan, before he had left them to ultimately join the Wardens. It wasn't his business, he knew, but he was just as curious what kind of life made someone like Davrin.

Before he could do something like let that foolish curiosity get the better of him, though, La Rosa returned with a bundle of fabric in a deep midnight blue that looked black in lower lighting.

"Here we go - if you please, Sir Warden, I just need to check the fit to see to any minor adjustments first," the older man said, cheerful.

Davrin stepped forward like a man about to face a sentencing, with shoulders back and face neutral, taking the shirt off again. Once more he was clay in La Rosa's hands, holding still where put, not complaining. Just mentally rolling the idea of Assan gaining a personal chef to everything else unexpected that had happened in his life.

He'd have to up his game, or Lucanis might end up being the role model the new breed of griffon tried to follow. And the last thing the Crows needed was more feathered killers.

Davrin was cozying up to Lucanis' demon, it was only fair. With the older man having returned it felt perfectly acceptable to watch the new shirt be tried on. Fitted but comfortably loose in the right places, with several small buttons along the front allowing the collar to be done all the way up (as Lucanis often wore) or something more open. The material was lighter and breathable while being dark enough that bloodstains would not show up easily on it.

"There's extra fabric around the shoulders to make sure you shouldn't be restricted in your movement, give it a try," La Rosa said, stepping back. He was used to outfitting at least one Crow - durable without restricting movement were both necessities for Lucanis.

He didn't have his sword and shield, but it was an easy enough memory to act through without the items on hand. Probably not needed, over all, but if he was going to try something out, he was going to try it. Lucanis, with his eyes of a raptor and all, may notice his wrists and fingers unconsciously move in addition to the rest of him, as if actually wielding his weapons.

And, damn the Crow, the shirt was the most comfortable thing he'd ever had on. He'll have to spend weeks getting used to not noticing it.

"Thank you, I- this is more than fine."

Oh, he notices. The smile that comes from that is less of a smirk, too. There's something oddly charming about it. About how much of a soldier Davrin is, through and through. Not born into it, but something he made for himself and made well.

"Very good!" La Rosa says, all smiles. He knows he does good work, but it's always a pleasure to see someone else realize that, too. "Let me just take care of a few of the stray threads and pins and I will be able to send it with you today. The rest I will send to the Dellamorte estate when finished, given the speed of parcel delivery these days - two weeks out, I think. If anything needs alterations when they arrive I will of course be happy to make those as well. Life happens to us all."

The last part said with a happy laugh, patting at his own waistline.

"Now, you needed to have your measurements re-taken as well, Ser Dellamorte?" La Rosa asked as he was taking back the shirt for the finishing touches. Lucanis blinked - he had been staring. Ah.

"... I think I have already taken up enough of Sir Warden's day with this, I can return another time for that."

"Oh, no, no. Please. We keep a busy schedule. Who knows when we'll have a break again?"

This first part is made with more than a bit of a vengeful smirk. He will not be the only one poked and prodded for entertainment, not if he can help it. The next part- while valid- is said more quietly as he steps down and retrieves his own, now noticeably scratchy, shirt from the arm chair. Voice pitched low enough where, if La Rosa is a respectable gentleman and not straining to hear, should only be heard by Lucanis.

"You can't have the same cut you did a year ago."

Even the hard life of a Crow couldn't have the same impact a year of straight torture must have had on the man. He was strong, undeniably. But Davrin wouldn't be entirely shocked if under all those layers he'd be able to count protuding ribs or vertebrae on Lucanis. Even with good food and regular battles, the body took longer to heal than it took to be damaged.

Davrin was unfortunately right. It was why Lucanis had made the comment about needing new measurements in the first place. It would take long enough to get back to his old self - especially with the struggles of dealing with the problem that was Spite - that there was little point in not simply accepting the way things were now and just adjusting again as needs be later on. That was what he was trained to do. Accept. Endure. Move forward when you can.

"Very well, if you're certain," Lucanis said, all proper graciousness. Unlike Davrin he's not just getting shirts but the whole measurements re-done, which means undressing down to smallclothes. Davrin had already seen him sans pants, so that's not much different. His wound is also healing well, no longer needing bandaging, the energy burn marks are down to barely darker shadows against skin and the stitched part holding together nicely. Probably nicer than he would have done for himself, half-assing it because he knew he could. His torso and arms were much the same with a few scars here and there - an expected amount from a year imprisoned by Venatori who had a very personal grudge against the 'the magekiller'. And yes, ribs and spine a little to clear under skin. Something unexpected though - a series of horizontal scars along his back, dozens of them, the kind from repeated hits. A couple were less than a year old, likely from the torture, but the vast majority of them were old. Years old. Maybe even decades. And perhaps more tellingly, while La Rosa was too much of a professional to let too many feelings show his brow furrowed slightly at Lucanis' thinness when the assassin was turned away, arms held out for the tape.

He didn't even blink at the scars on the back. These were a known quantity for him.

Lucanis asked how the clientele in Antiva City was compared to Treviso, and La Rosa obligingly filled the silence.

He was looking. He was looking and he knew Lucanis would know he was looking, because he there was no escaping the multiangled tailor mirrors in this room. He should probably stop.

But he was still looking.

The good news was he wouldn't ever feel subpar about his stitching when it came to patching up Lucanis. The scars may be straight and neat, professionally done, but no attention had gone in to preventing the lingering marks. If Lucanis' brother was half as vain as the man seemed to suggest, no wonder he had a particular bone to pick with his upbringing. It wasn't just his back, either. Legs, arms. A lifetime marked before the torture.

Said he'd get us out, but he stays.

Just how many people could Lucanis stand to escape from?

The only help Davrin was in filling the silence was reaching for another pastry, chewing softly. And looking.

Lucanis, like Davrin, is good at holding still and moving when directed and only then. These are also modifications to what he already has, so while he is getting everything measured again it goes relatively quickly, and soon enough La Rosa is stepping back making more little marks on his notebook and Lucanis is pulling his clothing back on.

"I will send a few things to be altered in the coming weeks, please take your time with them."

"Of course, of course, just a few moments," the older dwarven man said, ducking back into the back rooms once more.

Lucanis took up his coffee cup to settle on the chaise again.

"You should join Taash and me. Build the muscle back."

Pull-ups, push-ups, weight lifting, just generally challenging each other until they were ready to pass out. It was all fair game when practicing with the dragon hunter, and Davrin couldn't claim it wasn't having results for the both of them. He paused for half a moment, the sheer amount of watching he'd just done requiring something to soften that sentence.

"And teach them how to fight in a cape."

One of them alone was quite a handful at times, Lucanis was not certain how he would feel being 'outnumbered' by both of them at once. Then again. Taash was not remotely afraid of Spite or of Lucanis for his connection with the demon, and Davrin had been having the best luck keeping him in line. Perhaps this was the ideal group for it. Even if his fighting style was completely opposite to either of theirs.

One attempt couldn't hurt. If it went terribly, he wouldn't have to make a second.

That last part got a small smile from him.

"Yes, they seem quite interested in that, and it takes some getting used to..."

"Especially with the fire. We should do the first one outside."

Could the Lighthouse burn down? It was dragon fire. Who knew. Davrin was just sure he wasn't particularly interested in finding out. Last thing he needed as all of Neve's sad whisps following them around because their room was ashes.

He shook his head a little, clearing all that. Now that all was said and done and Lucanis actually had taken his own medicine as well, Davrin looked over at him from the corner of his eye.

"Thanks."

Tit for tat, right? And in truth Lucanis probably would have ended up feeling uncomfortable if it hadn't ended up a little equal between them. Poking Davrin was fun because they were on even ground, even if they were standing in very different places.

"Anytime. We need the team to look respectable, after all," he replied, but his smile was a little softer for it.

And La Rosa saved them both from too many feelings, returning with a wrapped parcel in a bag that was the shirt, a second wrapped parcel that he informed them was a few more cornettos for later, and a written note in neat handwriting naming two butchers in Antiva City and approximate directions for how to get there.

"You are both too generous sometimes," Lucanis said, shaking La Rosa's hand as he stood.

"Ah, your family has taken care of ours, if we are talking about being too generous. Whatever we can do for you, we will. Please take care. It was a pleasure meeting you as well, Ser Warden."

Davrin made all the appropriate thanks and requests the same go to the wife and finally, finally, they were back on the street. With only slightly bruised prides and fuller stomachs.

"That butcher list better not be another trick. These are good boots."

He'd gotten them off a fallen commander during a dark spawn raid on a village when the family insisted he be burned in dress uniform. Not that he had a need to be specific with Lucanis about that.

"What, you think the butcher is secret directions to a cobbler instead?" Lucanis teased, holding up the list.

That would be a good bait and switch. He eyed Davrin's boots.

They were perfectly serviceable. Ah well. Lucanis had to wonder how many previous owners they'd had before they got to Davrin.

Checking the direction again he headed towards the closest option which Alessa had noted always had good bones for their dogs. Bless the woman for being on the same wavelength as Lucanis about what specifically to get as a gift for Assan, though Lucanis was also going to get some things to make a few meals while they were here. Only a couple blocks, he supposed they could stay on street level for now.

"For all I know, that was an elaborate Crow drop and we're on our way to a mark."

It's not serious, obviously not serious. But Davrin couldn't help but think the quaint dwarf tailor and baker wife cooing about their grandchildren would be a perfect cover. And that it was all Lucanis' fault he was thinking this way. Before he'd actually met an assassin, he'd never been concerned there was one standing at every corner.

"Ah, the finest undercover operatives Treviso has ever produced, how did you make them so quickly?"

Teasing. He was teasing. OR WAS HE?

~~He absolutely was.~~

"Alright then, Fledgling, who would be our mark if they were the drop?"

It was Antiva City, of course there were Crows on basically every corner. Not all of them did outright assassinations though, some were just scouts, runners, people in training. Many were above street level, some were dressed out in the open, others just looked like day laborers. Lucanis wasn't looking for them, he had no business with them in particular after all, but he couldn't help but notice them as they passed. As they were likely doing to him and Davrin as well. It made him wonder if they would return to Treviso to have Illario asking why Lucanis did not see fit to bring him along to Antiva City.

Fledgling he mouthed, corners quirked up in amusement. But, alright, he'll play. Blame it on being Antiva, the city just brought out a little murder in everyone.

"Running off the elaborate assassination plots from Bellara's serials?"

Yes, she really had gotten half the Lighthouse reading them now. Davrin may not join in on the book club, but it was impossible to resist picking up the trashy newspaper stories when the other elf gushed about them so much. And those convoluted always-a-cliffhanger plots were more fun than whatever a real assassination would look like.

His lips twisted for a moment as he looked up to the sky- spotting more people running on the roofs, of course, in the process- and giving it all honest consideration. If he was going to play a game, he aimed to win. Never mind there was no winning at story telling.

"The butcher would just be the halfway point. Going up pick up some drugged meat with a passcode. Then the target's name will be written on the butcher paper."

Those serials! Really, Lucanis preferred the romances, though he enjoyed the book club. If nothing else the romances didn't have characters that were thinly veiled versions of him somewhere in there.

"Oh ho. Alright, how do we get the meat to the target, then?" He prompted next. There were plenty of options, he was curious which one Davrin would take. He could see the sign down the other end of the street with a druffalo's head engraved on it.

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