𝖚𝖕 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖗

Viago had asked her a question, hadn't he? Teia tried to focus on him, remember what he'd asked, but the sharp glint of metal erased all thought.

"Are you goin' t'kill me...?" she asked in a small voice, unsure how that made her feel, exactly. If she was ever to die at another's hands it was most likely to be Viago's. That didn't bother her. But they'd been fighting, hadn't they? She'd hoped that they would reconcile--they always gravitated back to one another, didn't they? If only she had known that they wouldn't, that the argument would be their last...

But then Viago was frowning down at her shoulder, not her face, and the cool breeze off the bay caressed the heated skin that had moments ago been beneath blood-soaked leather.

"Slow your breathing. Stop with the giggling. This is serious, Teia -- focus on slow, steady breaths."

His eyes fell again on the wound. From this angle, his belt might serve as a makeshift tourniquet. It was crude, but it would buy him time to find an antidote, an antivenom, something. Worst case, he would sear the wound shut with a flame. Not caring how it looked, he removed his belt, the sound of leather against leather filling the silence as he leaned over and wrapped it around her shoulder. He could see the moment it registered when her entire demeanour shifted, the pain finally breaking through.

"This will be tight. Ignore it and do not move. Focus on your breathing, nothing else. Just breathe slowly and look at me."

The thought of drawing the poison out crossed his mind, but it was far too late for that. Instead he turned his attention back to the wound, using what little time the tourniquet afforded him. The skin was red from blood and trauma, but it was the darkened veins and capillaries that caught his eye. Blue, spreading outward like frost. He risked touching the skin nearby. Cold -- colder than blood loss alone could account for.

He exhaled slowly...

"Would have taken too long," Teia explained in a slightly breathless voice. "I was already above you. Seemed silly to come back down and have to ascend all… those… stairs…"

Teia had been stabbed before. Multiple times, at that. The wound in her shoulder wasn't particularly deep. She could still move the arm, albeit with quite a bit of pain, but mobility meant nothing had been cut deep enough to be severed. To oversimplify it, the injury was pretty standard. What wasn't standard, however, was the heavy sensation creeping down her arm. Or the way the blood in her arm and chest was starting to burn through her veins. Or the darkness that gathered in the edges of her vision like a harbinger of doom.

Maker damn it. Of all times, he had been in the middle of poison work.

But before he could curse the situation any further, he heard her slurred speech -- each word worse than the last. Viago abandoned any thought of guiding her to a chair and instead bent his knees, scooping her up in a single fluid motion, still using his coat as a barrier between her skin and his gloves.

"Save your breath. Just tell me, what does the wound feel like?"

It could be blood loss, or it could be poison. Something that hadn't reacted immediately, or a dose too small to act at once. Either way, there was no time to change. He laid her on his bed, stepped back, and stripped off his gloves, tossing them into the corner. The outer layers followed until he was down to his shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow.

Then he bent another rule. He touched her with his bare hands.

He knew how dangerous it was -- if she had been poisoned, contact with the wound could transfer it to him. But her slurred speech worried him too greatly to hesitate. Instead, he drew the blade from his calf, confirmed it was clean, and used it to cut away the leather around her shoulder.

"I would apologise for not asking, but there is no time. Describe the pain. Take slow breaths."

various sentence and action starters for more intimate scenarios. tw for suggestive/outright nsfw text.

"We're alone now. How about we make this a little more interesting?"

"I have some wine. Want me to pour you a glass?"

"Those clothes are nice on you, but they would look better on the floor."

"Are you really going to make me beg?"

"I thought you liked it when I played hard to get."

"Slow down. I want to really enjoy this."

"Hold on. Are you sure we're alone?"

"You're staring."

"Let's have some fun."

"Do you want me to take it off for you?"

"Like what you see?"

"There's more where that came from."

"You look good enough to eat."

"Shouldn't we get undressed first?"

"You're too beautiful. I can't wait."

"Make yourself comfortable."

"You're being too loud. Someone will hear us."

"Keep going."

"God that feels good."

"Maybe I want someone to hear us."

"Do you really have to be such a tease?"

"Should we.. spice it up a little?"

"It's.. bigger than I expected."

"You don't have to go that fast. We have time."

ACTIONS. send + reverse for sender and receiver to swap.

[ADMIRE] sender wordlessly stares at receiver.

[BREATHLESS] sender kisses the receiver with barely any time to get air.

[CHERISH] sender traces the receiver's scars.

[FEAST] sender goes down on the receiver.

[HANDSY] sender sneaks their hands underneath receiver's clothes.

[IMPATIENT] sender starts palming receiver through their clothes.

[LONGING] sender sends receiver a risqué text.

[NIP] sender playfully bites the receiver.

[QUIET] sender pulls receiver into a kiss to shut them up.

[SEAT] sender straddles the receiver's lap.

[STEAMY] sender asks receiver to join them in the shower.

[STRIP] sender slowly undresses in front of receiver.

[SOFT] sender trails kisses on the receiver.

She never should have taken the contract to begin with. By the time the parchment made it to Teia's desk, the intended target had made his way to Salle. By all accounts, it should have been passed on to de Riva to complete. It was more than just a contract, then. It was a reason—an excuse—for her to travel south to Salle.

A month prior, she wouldn't have needed an excuse. Her presence in Salle would have been accepted, desired even. But it had been nearly three weeks (nineteen days, eight and half bells, to be exact) since the Fifth and Seventh Talons had exchanged words, much less occupied the same room. And while Teia resolutely refused to admit it aloud or otherwise show any hint of being bothered, she was.

The contract itself was simple in nature. Identify the target, take him out. No method requested, no message to be sent, no extravagant details. Perhaps it was because of this that Teia's guard was down and her attention lax. That and the fact that she was painfully aware that this was the type of soiree that Viago himself could very likely make an appearance at. The knife was nearly in her back before she even registered the presence behind her. She twisted, avoiding a lethal strike but catching the blade in the meat of shoulder instead, and quickly dispatched the target's shadowguard.

Somehow, Teia had gotten the drop on the target and left him dead behind a curtain. She stumbled lightheaded out of the decadent ballroom, realizing with a sinking feeling that while the night was warm, it was not nearly warm enough to warrant the flush spreading over her skin. The wound in her shoulder continued to bleed slowly, but more concerning was the way it seemed to pulse with both heat and cold at once.

Crows always had enemies, but he suspected only one other Crow might rival him for the sheer volume and wealth of those who despised them and wanted them dead. That would be the First Talon. And so, because of that, he would never adjust his lifestyle to suit others.

But there was one exception. One Crow. One Talon.

She made him change his ways, just slightly, inch by inch, rules bending until they neared their breaking point. He would find reasons why it was acceptable to touch, to stay near Teia Cantori. Those reasons were excuses, and not always convincing ones.

Viago was well aware that the best way to kill a man was through the fourth and fifth rib. What he had not expected was that the attack upon his heart would come not from a blade, but from the most beautiful, sharp, witty, and skilled person ever to grace Thedas.

It was the day he realised how close he was to breaking his rules for Teia that caused their final fight. Since then, his world had turned grey. He pretended not to care... told himself it was for the best, that he could live without Teia in his life. That each letter that arrived did not pique his interest, that the swift glance to check the handwriting meant nothing.

While Teia counted the hours, Viago counted the minutes since she had last graced him with her presence. Their fight had stung more than any venom ever could, and Viago felt he deserved every bit of that pain.

It was a cool, unremarkable night at House de Riva, Viago at his alchemy bench -- positioned, as always, so that he could see every entryway to his room -- when a shadow fell across his balcony.

The thud that followed was not graceful, and whoever had disturbed him had made no attempt at discretion. Meaning they wanted Viago to know of their arrival. That did not make him any safer, if anything, it could be a distraction. He stepped back from the bench, eyes fixed on the figure at the balcony, intending to double-lock his door, when his gaze caught the shadow of curls he often recognised in his dreams.

"Teia?" The word came out as a gasp, and he did not care how he sounded as he saw her hunched over, one hand pressed to her shoulder in the unmistakable posture of injury.

Another rule bent. He abandoned the door and crossed the room, glancing upward first to ensure she had not been followed, before reaching for his coat to use as a barrier between the contaminants on his gloves and his fellow Talon. He helped her to her feet and urged her inside.

“When am I ever not energized?”

“Certain mornings.”

◈

Send a ◈ for a first kiss between our muses. (technically first kiss after the Ossuary)

Lucanis did not really know what he wanted anymore. The Ossuary had broken him in more ways than he had ever imagined it could have. None of that had been made so obvious to him as it had during Caterina's funeral. The only relief he'd had was that Rook had left early, so they did not see the fight between him and Illario, the breakdown after his cousin had stormed out when Spite nearly snapped free of his tightly held leash.

Teia had managed to calm the situation, and Viago had taken Lucanis away to a private room in the Diamond to get away from the noise and the emotions of the wake that overstimulated both man and demon. Grief, it turned out, was a volatile emotion to mix with Spite.

Here and now, though, in the room quietly with the de Riva, Lucanis could finally at least calm himself and quell his demon's anger and frustration. Viago's hands holding tight to his arms to keep him from stumbling, Lucanis half-drunk and trying to hold back the stinging wetness in his eyes, for the first time since escaping that hell he thought that perhaps he would be all right.

His eyes were closed as he calmed his breath, listening to Viago's voice coach him through the breathing exercise to center him. Finally, he was able to feel the calm settle in, and even Spite's simmering anger eased beneath his skin and didn't itch so much. Lucanis opened his eyes, grateful to see Viago there, grateful that the Fifth Talon hadn't abandoned him after he came back from the Ossuary an abomination.

Lucanis had thought before he didn't know what he wanted anymore, but that wasn't entirely true. There was one thing he wanted, more than anything he could think of, and he was standing before him with a look of worry that Lucanis had never seen on his face before.

At least Lucanis had a good reason. He was trying to fulfil Caterina's final contract; a noble act, amongst the Crows.

Which made him think, as he guided Lucanis away from the gathering to somewhere quiet, where the younger man could catch his breath and readjust to life amongst the Crows. He could only wonder how jarring it must have felt, to go from an underwater prison, where he had clearly been starved and beaten, to a Crow funeral filled to the brim with tension, drama, and conspiracy. Even on a good day, gatherings like these wore on Viago. It was clearly not a good day for Lucanis.

He had thought that over the last year he would have moved on from the quiet thing that had developed between him, Teia, and Lucanis. Yet all it had taken was Caterina saying Lucanis was still alive, and his hand had reached for Teia, needing that grounding touch as his heart stuttered in his chest. It wasn't poison, but something far more sinister that made his pulse race whenever he thought of Lucanis. It would have been easier if it were a poison, then he could take an antidote. But there was no cure for affection. No antidote for adoration -- not for Teia, and not for Lucanis. And Teia had spent the last year quietly whittling away at his carefully crafted walls.

The Viago that stood here now was not the same man from before Lucanis had disappeared. This man held Lucanis with both hands on his arms, rubbing them gently, coaxing sense and comfort back into him.

Seeing Lucanis Dellamorte have a breakdown, he had never thought he'd see the day. And it shattered something in his cold heart to witness it. So he stayed quiet, not trusting his own voice, as they breathed together slowly. Lucanis was following his lead, so Viago made sure to take slow, deep breaths. When things seemed to have settled enough that words might be possible, his lips parted, just as Lucanis pressed his own against the Talon's.

He had missed those lips, though they felt chapped and hungrier now. For all his training and discipline, Viago was still just a man, a man who had lost someone he loved, only to have him return. He returned the kiss, but only for a moment before discipline resurfaced and he pulled away, hands still holding Lucanis firmly.

"You are being reckless, not just with your own life, but with mine. How much wine did you drink? Have you not considered what could be in your glass..." The scold faded as his gaze settled on Lucanis. He was so worn... so pained. Viago couldn't help but feel it too.

"I should stay. Make sure what you drank was just wine." An excuse, of course -- the wine was likely clean. But he couldn't bring himself to risk losing Lucanis twice in one year.

The noises of the city of Treviso at night slipped into the quiet of the abandoned attic through the crack glass of the broken window looking out to the canals. Lucanis sighed as he sat there with Viago, in a place that had once been a quiet comfort for them. A place where they did not have to put on the airs and personas of important Crows, but where they could just be Viago and Lucanis, two assassins sharing a bottle of wine (after Viago tested it, of course.)

If only it could be that simple now, but Lucanis knew it was not. Before his time in the Ossuary, he, Viago and Teia had only grown close to each other. Before he had left for that faithful mission, he'd found himself in both their arms, the three of them together. Both of them had warned him that the contract for Calivan felt wrong, but Lucanis was not one to turn down a contract to go after the Venatori.

He wished he would have listened to him. Now, things were complicated. The Antaam presence was even worse than the last time he left, and there were traitors in Treviso, both in the government and the Crows. And of course, the was the matter of him being an abomination now, bound to a demon that he was not sure yet if he was ally or enemy.

Viago had questioned him about the demon, on whether or not Spite was always there with him. The question had Lucanis grow quiet for a moment, sighing deeply as he felt Spite goading him on, taunting him about the man he loved throwing him away because of what he was now. It was a fear of his, that he would lose everything because of what Calivan and Zara had made him to be.

"Yes." Lucanis replied after a moment, taking a deep drink of his wine before he set his glass down beside him, closing his eyes and giving a long sigh before he continued. "He is always there, always watching, and talking. Mierda, he does not stop sometimes."

Opening his eyes, he looked up at Viago, and gave him a small smirk that was meant to be reassuring, but he wasn't so sure it came off that way.

He had often lain awake at night, thinking of what had happened to Lucanis out at sea. Had it been quick? Painless? He doubted it, and the thought turned his stomach as much as his daily dose of adder poison did.

But as it turned out, Lucanis hadn't been killed, he had been captured. And his... his... Lucanis had been tortured for a year, in a prison run by the Venatori, while he and Teia got to move on with their lives together in Treviso. He hated it. He hated that he'd had no idea Lucanis was alive and in need of help. He hated that someone else had been the one to help him, and then only for Lucanis to return a different person, with a demon attached besides.

Whatever had happened in the Ossuary, it had broken something in Lucanis. Not even the expensive wine could ease the sour taste in his mouth as Lucanis mentioned the demon, but he had to remind himself to be grateful that he could even meet Lucanis again. Share the rooftop with him once more.

Teia was occupied with Diamond matters and Caterina's funeral preparations. Lucanis had suffered enough -- he didn't need to suffer through the logistics of a Crow funeral too. But after a couple of glasses of wine, his tongue had loosened enough to ask about this demon. Spite.

just in time for playoffs, the amazing @avvarqueen completed this comm of goalie viago from my series my heart stops when the puck drops (but i come alive).

this is the, ah, tumblr-safe version of the comm. thanks so much, nyx, i love him.

Her steward: Very good, First Talon. And what should be done with his wife?