Illario Dellamorte Appreciation

One of the bartenders who was prepping for the evening greeted Lilya and Illario and told them that they had come too early; the owner of the casino side, Ignacio, wouldn't be in until later that night. They should return closer to seven bells in the evening to catch him… and Lilya should come with a bit of rouge on her cheeks and her tits halfway out of her shirt. Even as a croupier, they didn't hire just anyone from the streets. Being able to count and deal some cards or throw some dice wasn't enough. She had to "look" the part. Illario had very generously volunteered his services to watch her parade around in skimpy clothes and prowl around her underwear drawer—"for the good of the contract, Baby Bird." She had given him the finger and walked on without him, Illario's bright laughter tinkling in her ears as she huffed a little harder than normal to prevent the impending giggle from escaping.

As they were about to round the corner of the street towards their inn, Illario remembered that he had an errand to do. Lilya had the sneaking suspicion that the errand meant tracking down a poor guard and ensuring that his body would never be found. The poor bastard would never see it coming, and as distasteful as she found it, there was nothing she could do about it. The realities of being a Crow were that contracts came first, and even if she tried to stop him then, nothing was stopping him from doing it once she was already working. She could not babysit him and work the job at the same time.

"I'll be back by six bells at the latest and we'll—"

"Go over everything before the meeting with the owner. I know. I know."

"Who's got your smalls all twisted?"

"You, obviously. But alas, even though you are the reason for my agitation, you will never see said smalls, twisted up or otherwise."

Illario made a pained expression and covered his heart with both hands, staggering back to act mortally wounded from her barbs, but she could tell from the twinkle in his eyes that he was having far too much fun with it all. This camaraderie they were slowly building was far more comfortable than the tense moments where she had to be on guard, though Viago and Ilene's voices in the back of her head said to never let it down completely. And she had to give them precedence. They always looked out for her, had her back, and loved her. A few knot-tying lessons, a shared laugh or two, and a piece of cake were not going to usurp their place in her life. Until she could understand Illario better and know his masks, his tells, she would not be able to truly relax in his presence.

Waving to Mirae, who was speaking to a customer at the front desk, Lilya clambered up the stairs one heavy footfall at a time, suddenly more tired without the Dellamorte nipping at her heels and making smart-aleck quips for her to retort to. She had almost looked forward to letting him go through her wardrobe to find something he'd stop and stare at if he were in the owner's place. It would feel like she were shopping for a job with Carina or Teia there to hype her up… with Ilene probably in the corner rolling her eyes and letting her know that each of her choices was far too flammable and porous, hardly suitable to save her from corrosives or topical poisons.

A fond memory of an argument Carina and Ilene had gotten into about different coatings on leather resurfaced, amplifying her already desiderate state as she sifted through the clothes hanging in the closet. Everything was so… brown. Or a similarly dull shade of green, which in theory should have made her eyes pop but did nothing for her complexion except make her look like a jaundiced child.  The dresses she had brought along were not suitable for a simple country girl to own; certainly no one would believe she needed the coin when the dress she wore cost half of a year's takings for many merchants. Teia and Viago had very expensive tastes, the beauty of being a Talon with seemingly endless funds at their disposal, she supposed.

Letting out a sigh and wiping away the thin sheen of sweat at her hairline from obsessing over every item of clothing she had unpacked, Lilya moved away from the closet and double-checked the lock was still latched and then fixed the curtains to ensure no one from the neighbouring buildings could see in. Once she was satisfied, she lit the oil lamp beside her bed and took a moment to stand still in the warm orange glow it emitted. Clearing her throat as though she were asking permission from invisible guests in her room, she pushed on the back of the closet and pulled out her armour, thinking about what she could take from it to make something work.

Her leather pants, she could use them. They would work a treat paired with the soft suede corset from one of her simple dresses and her plain boots. She just needed a larger blouse to wear under it that didn't scream "dairy farmer".

A soft sound of barely suppressed footfalls beside her told her that Illario had returned, and the fact he had decided to scale the building instead of walking through the foyer told her all she needed to know. A guard was definitely going to be missing upon their return that evening.

He was probably messier than he wanted to be. A rip in his shirt maybe? Some blood that could not be explained as his? Better someone spot him climbing the building and suspect he was sneaking into a married lover's room than to let them know he'd just murdered someone in cold blood.

Shaking her head at herself, Lilya sat down at the foot of her bed and sighed. It could not be helped; this was their lot in life. The best thing she could do was get hired, finish off this job, and then return to Treviso as soon as possible. If she were lucky, Viago would reward her with some much-needed time away. Maybe she could find some respite in Rivain.

Stretching out the clothes on her lap to smooth out the light wrinkles, Lilya could not ignore the quiet whistling from the other room, and a brilliant thought popped into her head. Nothing was going to get her noticed like wearing a man's shirt—her shoulders slipping free from the collar and smelling like a man's cologne, as if she were already used to that kind of life, that she was already that wanted.

Without hesitation, she threw her clothes to the side and rushed out of her room to rap at his door impatiently. A hushed swear and hurried footsteps that came closer could be heard from the other side before the door swung open. There, in only a pair of leather pants and boots, stood Illario, glistening with drops of water across his bare chest and along his forearms, a dripping rag in his hand as he continued to wipe at the pale pink stains on his skin. He noticed the way her eyes roved over his body and barely attempted to hide his amusement. Lilya did not have the heart to tell him she was merely checking if he had any nicks or scrapes that needed tending to, wounds that could have permitted the introduction of poison into his system.

"You enjoying the view?" he asked, pride radiating from every pore.

"Yes. Very. Again, you are a very attractive man. It pleases me—"

"Oh yes, tell me what pleases you, Baby Bird," he urged, grinning widely at her and taking one step forward to lean against the doorframe.

This cocky bastard.

"What pleases me," she began, closing the distance between them, "is that you look completely unharmed, if not a little messier than one would expect from a Master assassin."

Illario took a moment to register what she had said before throwing his head back in laughter. Lilya raised her brows and nodded towards the empty room behind him, and the man dropped his arm and waved her in with a dramatic sweep. "By all means, my house is your house."

Stepping past him without looking back, she made her way to his closet and opened the doors, pulling carefully at the shirts hanging in there and taking long sniffs at the collars and cuffs, leaving a bewildered Dellamorte to gawk at her.

"Would you believe this isn't the weirdest kink I have come across in all my years?"

Lilya stopped what she was doing and stared at him as if he were the daft one.

"What? You're the one who comes into my room acting like some mad mabari on a hunt and I'm the weird one?"

She sighed and put the shirt she'd been examining back on the rack. "Your shirt. I need to borrow one, please, preferably one that isn't clean."

"All right… but why?"

Lilya realised that perhaps she had become so accustomed to working with her siblings that she was no longer used to explaining every crazy thought that crossed her mind, and her partner deserved the right to understand her reasoning even if it was a waste of time.

"A couple of reasons. First, I need something to wear and none of my blouses are suitable for the look I am trying to achieve; I require something more exposed, more risque. Your larger shirt on me will fall open to expose one or both of my shoulders with a little adjustment, and cinched in with my corset—"

"You'd look like an exotic little pirate from Rivain. I see your vision, and I approve."

"Oh, happy day."

"You even have the cutting sarcasm of a sailor, tremendous. And the part where the shirt can't be clean?"

"Your scent. It will seem as if I've picked up the shirt from my latest conquest, show them I'm desirable already."

"I do not think you need a man's shirt or cologne on your skin to show that you're desirable, Baby B—"

"We can't take risks," she interrupted, turning back to rummage through his clothes once more. "They need to hire me tonight. Who knows when another chance to get in will present itself? We need more information if we want to ever finish this contract on time… How often do you get Mirae to wash your clothes? Is everything clean in here?! The poor laundry staff!" she huffed, turning on her heel to give him a disapproving stare.

A roll of his eyes was the only response he gave her before walking over to his bed and picking up a shirt from under his pillow, slightly rumpled but otherwise inoffensive. "Here. I wore this one last night to bed."

"You wear clothes to bed?" she asked, as she took the offered shirt. "I always took you for one who slept in the nude."

"Think about me naked in bed often, do you, Baby Bird?"

"Of course! I figured if you were getting attacked and I had to run in here in the middle of the night to help, that I best be prepared to witness a full Dellamorte moon," she said, unable to peel the smile from her face.

"That's where it starts, just you wait and see," he chuckled with a wink, moving back to the bowl of water to continue scrubbing at his hands. "Soon you'll have fantasies of me naked in your bed, mark my words."

"You know what? I'm glad Ilene bit you."

He snorted and squeezed the excess water from his rag while watching her slip the shirt over her head, still loose over her clothes and clinging to the fabric beneath it. Lilya tried to ignore the way his eyes lingered over her, even though she was completely covered; even with the extra layer, she still felt exposed to him for some inexplicable reason.

"So what's with all the blood? Your errand went awry, did it?" she asked, schooling her tone.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Didn't realise the errand would be a squirter is all. Didn't look the type."

He answered her so nonchalantly, as though he were describing a simple chore like weeding, she could not help but laugh at him and his unfortunate choice of words.

"I see. Well, it just speaks to your talent that you can bring that out in people."

Had she meant to say it that way? No, she had not. She had not meant to encourage such banter between them, but she so enjoyed the easy amity they were building that it was difficult not to slip into old habits. Playfully flirting with Zalan between missions, and even other Crows she was friendly with back in Treviso, none of it mattered. But this tentative professional relationship was different, and she knew better than to dabble in such foolishness.

Her mouth went dry and her mind blank, unsure of how to talk her way out of it and leave with any sense of dignity. It did not help that he was looking back at her with smug assurance that she had hit the nail on the head. He was that talented. He could do that to people… and not just with knives and blood but…

Maker, Lilya, get a hold of yourself. You're acting like you've been starved of attention for years and not months. 

"Well, we better get ready then. I'll leave you to it. Thanks for the shirt."

Smooth. Very smooth. Painting the picture of a competent Crow. Thank Andraste that her siblings and Viago were not there to see her; they'd probably poison her once and for all and put her out of her misery. Hell, she'd even thank them.

"Hey, Talla, you coming down for dinner?"

Lilya took one last look at herself and found nothing wrong with her appearance. She thought of the pictures of the famed pirate queen Isabela, exactly the type of woman you'd want working for you at a casino—a beauty who knew their way around a deck of cards or slinging dice, selling entertainment and sex in one fell swoop.

Opening the door, she took in Illario and congratulated herself for not going slack-jawed at the sight of him. Dark shirt, mostly unlaced, paired with his worn leathers and boots, the right amount of stubble across his jaw and chin… he looked like a debonair playboy. Perhaps her assumption of him offing a guard was incorrect; maybe he was aiming to become one of the whores instead. They'd hire him in an instant. She would have.

"Well, look at this! Tiny Talla is not so tiny anymore!" he teased, whistling low and appreciatively.

"Shut up, Tomas. Don't make this weird."

"Okay, okay. I was just trying to be nice," he placated with his hands in the air. He purposely waited a beat as a couple down the hall nodded towards them before descending the stairs. "Say… you wouldn't happen to have any cologne or perfume on you, would you?"

"Cologne?"

"Yeah, the special stuff that your brother makes. You didn't happen to bring any with you, did you?"

Lilya stared at him blankly for a minute before realising what he was actually asking for. Pheromones, concentrated elixirs Viago had formulated to assist in certain types of missions. Their efficacy was hit and miss, but it never hurt to have them in one's arsenal.

"Oh, yeah, I did actually. Do you want some?"

"Couldn't hurt, could it?"

"No, I guess not." She padded back to her closet and pulled out a vial and then handed it to Illario. "Here. Don't use too much; this stuff is potent. I couldn't stand to sit next to you stinking up the bars with so much cologne it's like you bathed in it instead. Have pity on me. Have pity on whatever foolish girl you manage to wrangle your way into."

"Yeah, yeah," he chuckled, dabbing a small amount on his wrists, the pulse points on his neck, and down the ridge of his chest. He returned the vial without putting the cap back on, and his full eyebrows drew together when he saw her put it away without so much as a drop on her person.

"None for you? Is that wise? You may be overpowered by all the others there."

"You have enough on for both of us. Besides, there's something else that works for me, hasn't failed me yet."

"Oh? Pray tell."

"Don't worry about it. Head on down to dinner. I'll try to get down there in time." Lilya tried to close the door on him but was met with one large hand easily pushing it back, Illario unwilling to back down when his interest was piqued.

"C'mon, Tiny Talla, tell me your secret. Promise I won't tell your brother."

A snort of incredulity slipped out at the thought of Illario telling Viago this particular method. She could clearly see both of Viago's daggers in Illario's pretty blue eyes before the Dellamorte could finish his sentence. Once more, she tried to close the door on him, but he proved much stronger, even with just one hand against both her arms.

"I don't have the time for this. Fine. I'm going to make my own perfume, one specifically tailored to me and me alone."

"That's hardly fair. Why not share—"

Lilya pressed a finger to her lips to silence her partner, impressed that he followed along. "We're not playing fair tonight, are we, Tomas? I need them to hire me. Trust that whatever I'm doing isn't to slight you; it's to ensure things go as smoothly as possible. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"But our plans for the evening. We're meant to discuss—"

"And we will," she replied, fingers squeezing the doorknob. "I'll be down as soon as I can. There will be time. I promise."

His eyes stayed locked onto hers even as his hand slipped down the door and back to his side, allowing the latch to click into place.

Lilya sighed and let her forehead press onto the cold wood, taking in a deep breath and then another. There was no way on earth, in the fade, or beyond the void that she would admit that she was going to make herself come and keep herself in a state of constant arousal to garner interest from all involved in their dealings tonight. Real desire trumped the manufactured, in almost every case she could think of. Even as good as Viago was, nothing could beat pure, unadulterated lust seeping from her very being.

She prayed to the Maker, Andraste, Mythal, her sweet mother back in Highever—anyone willing to listen—that her partner would never bring it up with her. Or, at the very least, have the decency to wait until she was exceedingly drunk.

Opening the door to check that Illario had indeed left, Lilya's shoulders fell from around her ears and she bit her bottom lip hard to chide herself. She was acting foolish and jittery for no reason, like some stupid teenager interested in a boy that her parents forbade her to associate with. That must have been it. The excessive warnings had just made her want to understand what it was about the Dellamorte that Ilene and Viago were so adamant to keep her away from. Surely it couldn't just be because of one unfortunate incident over a decade ago? Though the longer she dwelled on it, the more she considered that Ilene and Viago were two of the most stubborn people she had ever known, and she shouldn't put it past them to stew in their resentment.

After checking the lock twice, she moved away from the door and began unlacing her pants, loosening the supple leather around her hips and falling back to her bed with a huff. The sooner she got this done, the better, so as not to raise more needless questions from her partner. With enthusiasm that could barely fill a thimble, she shoved her hand down into her smalls and tried to conjure up some memory that would help speed along the process.

Something.

Anything.

Nothing.

Nothing was coming to mind.

Her fingers moved against her sex with practised ease, the other hand squeezing a breast through her shirt, but apart from feeling pleasant, nothing was stirring actual want. Trawling through her memories like a mad hunter, she was left with nothing but the slightest tingle in her belly. Nothing stoked at the fire she knew was once there, no deep pull at her core from her time with Viago, Teia, or even both at the same time. That boy she passed the time with during training… the wild orgies… the fling she had with that Shadow Dragon a few months back…

A growl eked from her throat, frustration bubbling under her skin. She was a professional, damn it! She had managed to fool countless targets, but she couldn't even fool herself for one night? Bloody ridiculous. Yelling at herself for getting worked up and anxious, Lilya shook her limbs and her head to force out the negative energy pent up in her body, willing herself to create a scene in her head if her memories would not serve. Her thoughts wandered, trying to pick someone to seduce in her mind. Flashes of faces came to her in rapid succession: the blushing fruit seller Davi, the stern but beautiful Seraphine, the bright and mischievous Isola, the stoic and handsome Dante, and… and… the wet, half-naked Illario. If she thought about it, she could count the beads of water on his chest and how many drops had fallen into the hollows between his abs.

Unbidden memories rushed upon her: the feel of his hand on hers from the other night on the rooftop, the heat of his back against hers, the weight of him as he threw himself over her to stop the tile from falling… the feel of his breath as he whispered instructions in her ear… What would have happened if she had turned her cheek at that moment? Would she have felt his lips on her skin? Would his mouth have brushed hers? What if she had held fast in the shadows of the trees, held firmly in his embrace, nose in the crook of his neck and smelling his cologne and sweat and…

Fuck.

She could feel her smalls start to soak through.

Fuck. Fuck.

Lilya hated that Illario was right. It was the beginning of her thinking of him. That astute, arrogant fucker.

Gratitude was what she felt when she went to collect him at the dining hall, surrounded by servers and patrons alike, gathered around him as he spun his wonderful tales. His audience meant his attention wasn't completely on her. If anyone were going to pick up on what she had done, it would be another Crow, and one who easily rivalled her in skill and had far more experience. She'd be made in a second, and she did not think she could weather the smugness that would roll off of him. Or perhaps it would be well-meaning condescension—a pat on the head or an encouraging punch on her arm, an "Aww, what a good effort, Baby Bird". There would be no living with him.

And if he asked her if she had thought of him… she did not know if she'd be able to lie convincingly enough. And that… that she would not allow.

They had to discuss their strategy on their way there. They had no time for dinner and talking in codes and riddles, another thing for her to be grateful for, because if he was focused on the plan, he wasn't honing in on her dilated pupils, the thin sheen of sweat on her hairline and collarbones. And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't notice the way she nervously glanced at him from the corners of her eyes.

The plan was simple. The owners were not some great masterminds; they were merely the intermediaries they had to placate in order to find the real people and stories behind the scenes. They would introduce Lilya as Talla, a country girl lost to the depravity of Antiva City's streets to survive, and Illario as Tomas, the brother-type figure who was just there to make sure she was okay, to show the people there that someone would notice if she didn't come home… and if it so happened that he got talking to the barmen or guards and was offered a temporary gig whilst they found where their regular guard had disappeared to, what was the harm?

Between their charms, there was nothing to worry about.

The first test was Ignacio, the owner, a smarmy sleaze of a man who stared at a line of girls on the casino floor. Lilya joined them, and he inspected each of them up and down, checking their teeth and testing if they could do basic math, and after an hour, he had whittled it down to three girls: a pretty young thing with eyes as large as saucers, an older woman with experience in an Orlesian whorehouse, and Lilya. The young one still shivered when he came close to her, and as tempting as that was, it would not do for a croupier. The retired whore, however, had eyes sharper than Lilya's favourite daggers; years of dealing with their ilk had made her strong, hard. Too hard to appeal to most of their customers. But Lilya? Oh, she ensured she was the perfect blend of doe-eyed innocence mixed with wanton desire; she made them believe she had tasted what the capital of Antiva had to offer and was hungry for more.

Illario was behind her, with the guards around him already in stitches, patting him on the back like they were lifelong friends. He had clearly noticed the owner zoning in on her and had taken the chance to drink and listen in. Lilya did her best not to flinch when the owner's beady eyes snaked over her body, his fingers ghosting over her skin so closely she could feel the heat from him as he moved. Still, she held her ground and his gaze; if she was to be trusted to hold her own and to keep the money secure on her table, even across from the shadiest characters around, she could not look away.

Ignacio took a long, deep breath, and Lilya could no longer hear chatter from Illario and the guards. Good. He was watching, and he made sure they knew he was. The owner licked at his front teeth, almost the same colour as the foul ale they served, and smirked, a finger pointing at Lilya.

"This one. This is the one. She has spirit, and the customers do appreciate the elven ones more. Always willing to pay an extra coin or two to get on their tables or in their smalls. What's your name again?"

"Talla, sir."

"Talla," he said, drawing it out. "Welcome to the family at the Perfumed Dice. You start on the weekend. You'll shadow one of the other girls, get you up to speed with the games and odds and expectations—"

"Expectations, sir?" she asked, feigning confusion.

He exhaled, a cloud of cigar smoke diffusing out of his mouth like a dragon before releasing its fire. "Yeah, expectations, Talla," he sneered, carefully tucking a strand of hair behind the point of her ear. "If you think someone is cheating, you let me know. If you think someone is stealing, you let me know. If you think you can get more money out of some drunk chump, you let me know. And most of all, you don't betray me. I will find out because—"

"Someone will let you know."

Ignacio grinned, taking another long puff of his cigar, looking around the room but talking to no one in particular. "What did I tell you? This is the one. Come here nice and early, and the girls will get you ready. Just come clean."

"I… I am clean!" she snapped back, fingers curling into her palms.

"Heh, sure you are. Shit, come as you are; you'll make a killing in tips. That's it," he said, dismissing the others. "Better luck next time, girls. Now get out of here. We're getting ready for tonight."

Lilya nodded and smiled at the others who looked as if they were ready to murder her, the older woman knocking into her shoulder hard as she passed by.

Illario leaned forward from the bar and fixed a menacing glare on the woman. "You want to watch where you're going, madam; you can't go around knocking into Signore Ignacio's employees. What if you hurt her before she was meant to start? You're already costing him money she hasn't even earned yet."

The woman had the presence of mind to pause and look back at Ignacio, who looked none too pleased by the truth of Illario's words. She uttered a heavily accented apology before she raced out, the wide-eyed chit following close after her.

Ignacio reached into his vest, and Lilya tensed, readying herself in case he meant to throw a dagger her way. When a cigar flew through the air into Illario's waiting hand, she cursed herself for being so absurd.

"Good call, kid. Have that one on me."

Another guard approached Ignacio. "Sir."

"What is it, Marco?"

"Giancarlo's wife said he didn't come home, said he's probably running wild with another woman. Again. What do you want us to do? We'll be all right tonight, but if he doesn't show tomorrow, we'll be short a body to man the exits and tables. You want us to keep some tables down?"

A disgusted scoff was the owner's first retort, as if the thought of not having every possible avenue for making money available was impossible. Then he looked back to Illario. "You, kid. You want a job for tomorrow night?"

Illario looked at Lilya, Ignacio, and Marco. "What's the job?"

"You'll be a guard. You look after my money, the building, and then the girls. In that order. Understood?"

"Make it a permanent position, and I'm in," Illario boldly negotiated, crossing his arms like he held the upper hand. Somehow, his brashness worked; Ignacio laughed.

"Kids these days, such audacity. Fuck it. You got yourself a deal, kid."

"But, Boss! Giancarlo—"

"Fuck Giancarlo. He can't make it to work? A cunt is more important than his job? Then he doesn't have a job. What's your name, kid?"

"Tomas, sir," Illario responded.

"Tomas, even better. Less syllables. Prettier too. You'll be popular with those who like their boys pretty. No problem with that, is there, Tomas?"

A hint of a frown appeared on Illario's face but then disappeared—just enough to suggest to Ignacio that the need for stable coin won over his offended sensibilities. Which meant he could be owned and controlled, a trait a man like Ignacio would find perfect in his guards. Illario knew how to work anyone in any given situation, and that capability, that recognition of his pure talent, shot straight through Lilya.

"No. None at all, sir."

Another cloud of noxious smoke curled up to the ceiling when Ignacio chuckled happily, looking far too pleased with himself and the two new employees he had managed to bag. "Go and get some sleep. Come back tomorrow at seven bells to cover the night shift. Marco here will show you the ropes. Ahh, I knew today was going to be a good day."

Lilya watched the man slither out and sincerely prayed to the Maker that they were wrong and he was part of it all. She'd enjoy giving the whores and croupiers a chance to take their pound of flesh after she was done with him.

The night was still young when they stepped back onto the Saffron Walk, the streets still bustling with people coming and going, vendors trying to sell the last of their wares as the air filled with the different aromas of dinners from nearby homes and restaurants alike. A low growl swirled within her belly, and she thanked the candied peanut seller's booming voice for covering the embarrassing sound. Why she thought it embarrassing in front of Illario was beyond her, but she did not have the faculties to process the reason behind it, nor did she particularly want to.

Tonight was the last night they'd be able to claim as their own before spending hours cooped up at the Perfumed Dice. They should make the most of it.

"We could have a hearty drink at a pub," Illario was saying. "Or even splurge and eat at the Golden Galleon, and if anyone sees us, we can say you're taking in how their croupiers deal whilst we both celebrate getting a job and—"

"We should scout the city, have one more look into everything whilst we still can."

"Or we can work." Illario sighed. "Maker, I forget sometimes what it's like, always looking to find ways to impress the higher-ups…"

"I'm not doing that."

"Oh no?"

"No. I have no want to rise."

Illario laughed. "Now that must surely be a lie. Everyone wants that."

"Not at all," Lilya retorted. "I'm content just as I am. Besides, Viago is already impressed with me. He knows my worth, and he values my skills and talents. His House is my home, where my family is. What more could I want?"

Illario faltered mid-step. She stopped and faced him, and for one shocking moment she worried that he'd been wounded by an unknown assailant. His expression was stricken, like he had been stabbed by what she had just said. But in the next moment he straightened and offered her the same cocky smile she had grown used to, and she relaxed as they continued on as before.

"Would you really prefer to run around on rooftops and spy on people instead of spending an evening eating decent food?" he cajoled, arching one brow, obviously appalled that it was even a question. "Maybe playing a game or two on the tables?"

Jutting her hip to the side and placing a hand on her waist, she stared at him as if he were dumb to even ask, and he frowned.

"I'm going to go change," she told him, "and I'll be at the normal meeting point at nine bells. If you're there, we can do what we came here to do. If you're not, I will continue alone, and you can go to the Galleon and get fed, plied with wine, and fleeced of your coin on your own."

She left him there, grumbling amongst the citizens, and did not look back. So she was profoundly surprised to find him on the roof of their hotel, waiting for her with his arms crossed as if he had been there for hours. Though he did not say anything, she knew he was annoyed. His mouth downturned ever so slightly, the divot between his eyebrows just that little bit deeper than normal, shoulders so tense he could have rammed through stone walls. Still, he had been presented with a choice; he did not need to come with her.

Perhaps he felt as though he had to. 

He was the Master, she a Crow. If she died fulfilling the contract while he was off gambling and whoring, it would not be a good look for him. Not because she died; she was of little consequence. But because he was not focused on the goal, he would be outshone by the diligent little upstart.

Illario rattled off a proposed plan for the evening, scouting places they hadn't focused on previously and checking in on the Vitelli Guild's surrounds to see if anything had changed that they needed to take into consideration when the time came to visit Lina and ensure their little would-be informant survived the poison. Ticking through his points, she had to admit it made sense and simply nodded her agreement. They moved silently from rooftops to alleys, never saying more to the other than necessary, the easy banter they had shared the last couple of days a mere memory in the terse quiet between them. And even on a warm night in Antiva City, the air held more bite than she expected.

Again, just like almost every other night they had surveyed the streets, they found nothing but drunken lechers and merrymakers passing them by, enough to make Lilya almost regret not taking up Illario's offer of one night of frivolity. They arrived at the final ring of houses surrounding the Vitelli Guild and agreed to split up and observe before meeting back at the alley they had previously escaped to and detailing any differences before they forgot them. However, as it always happened with all well-laid plans, everything went to shit. Not with a bang, but with a sigh.

Just as they separated on the rooftop, Illario sighed, and one disappointed sigh from him was enough to trigger something within her. Was it disappointment? Or boredom? Irritation? All of the above? Thought after thought roiled within her and sparked a much more emotional response than she was willing to acknowledge, wanting to put as much space between them as possible and get away from him before she said or did something she would instantly regret.

Mere seconds of lost focus transformed her once stealthy movements enough for someone in the yard of the Vitelli Guild to notice an odd motion and turn her way. The abrupt change in his surveillance caused her to stop in her tracks, the heel of her boot shifting the roof tile beneath her. This time, Illario was not close enough to catch it, and the tile slid down the side of the house and crashed into pieces on the cobbled path below.

Lilya crouched down low to evade detection, hissing and cursing at herself for letting such thoughts muddy her performance. It was unprofessional, amateurish, and bound to get them both killed. Turning to reassess her exit strategy, she was met with Illario beside her, pulling another tile free and throwing it off to the other side of the house. The guards rushed there to stave off the fleeing offenders whilst Lilya and Illario ran in the other direction, hunching low and close to the rooftops until they felt far enough and safe enough to slow down and regroup.

Illario pointed to a villa, all the windows blacked out, not a flicker of a candle in sight, and she nodded, creeping along the top of the stone wall fencing in an overgrown yard until she found a thick patch of grass to land upon. Lying low for a bit was their best course of action. She did not want to make yet another mistake that could cost them dearly, and that was all she seemed to be doing, proving to them both that she was nothing but a glorified fledgling. Perhaps Viago thought far too much of her; it was evident she thought too much of herself.

Swiping at the dirt-caked fountain ledge, Lilya sat down and linked her hands together, one leg bobbing in place as she ruminated over her actions. What she could have done, should have done, differently. Looking over every angle as quickly as she could, she prepared for whatever punishment or lecture the Master of House Dellamorte would have planned for her. She'd messed up too many times to get off scot-free; he'd have to pull her into line.

Dark boots came into her vision, and she looked up, ready to feel the sting of the back of his hand on her cheek. Instead of an open palm, she found his fingers pursed around something small and oddly shaped. For a second she thought it was a lemon; the garden was full of trees brimming with the fruit. Did he want to rub juice into the wounds he'd inflict on her? It would not be the first time a Crow endured something similar.

As if he sensed her confusion, Illario held the fruit up higher into the moonlight, and Lilya's eyes widened comically as she realised what he was offering to her.

A fig. A blood fig, to be specific.

When she did nothing, he clucked his tongue and pushed it into her hand, motioning for her to stay there before he checked the house and their surroundings to ensure they were truly in the clear. At least that was what she believed he was doing; she was still staring at the soft fruit in her grasp. It was warm from being inside of Illario's pouch, even through her gloves… though an argument could be made that it was just her own body heat she was so attuned to.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked brusquely when he returned, gesturing for her to eat.

"These… this is my favourite," she said, not thinking about how stupid she must have sounded.

"I know," he replied, looking at her almost kindly, confusing her even more. Sighing with a soft smile tugging on one side of his mouth, Illario took the fruit from her and tore it in half easily, handing her the larger portion.

And once again she ate something from him without question, not a moment of hesitation. With only the night sky's light shining in that garden, they sat side by side and asked nothing of each other. Lilya could feel herself breathe easier, knowing that any illusion of her being the perfect little soldier was well and truly quelled. She was quite obviously another idiot wandering blindly in the dark, hoping not to get herself killed.

"You know… when I was on my first solo mission… I almost failed."

Lilya's head whipped up and stared at him, baffled. Illario snorted at her expression.

"I know, almost impossible to believe." He grinned, taking a bite of the fruit and making a sound of approval at its flavour. "It was my first mission without my cousin, and I had overestimated myself. Thinking I was Illario Dellamorte, of course I could do no wrong. Stupid child, I did everythingwrong." His willingness to be so transparent with her, coupled with his charming smile, almost belied the true intent behind their colloquy.

Swallowing her bite, Lilya licked her lips and locked her eyes with his, too curious not to ask. "What did you do wrong?"

Illario laughed and finished the last bite of his half of the fig. "Now, Baby Bird, let me keep some pride, would you? Just know that at least once, this perfect specimen of a man was not always so."

"I guess that's fair."

"How magnanimous of you." Illario took a deep breath and smiled at her, not a hint of derision or arrogance in it. "My point is, like it was the other night, mistakes that we can learn from are the kind that make us better."

"Yes, but my mistakes almost got us killed," she interjected, pouting at the last pieces of fruit in her hand.

"Remember: You're not dead? You can learn. You can adapt. You can get better. Being dead is finite; everything before that, we can negotiate, and the Crows are excellent negotiators. So stop looking at me like you're ready to offer your neck just because, for some unknown reason, roof tiles have it in for you, Baby Bird."

It was jarring, the sweetness. In both the fruit and in the man sitting beside her. Realising she had been staring at him like a simpleton, she popped the last bit of the fig in her mouth, relishing the sugar on her tongue. A soft hum came from her unbidden, and instinctively her eyes flicked back to him, watching him watching her. Switching off the loud muffled voices in her head, she wiped at an errant droplet of nectar and sucked the bead off her thumb. He did not take his eyes off her, and it was then, when she looked into his eyes, that she realised that not once had he ever looked at her like she had failed. No disappointment, no judgement.

Just a man watching a woman eat her favourite fruit that he had so happened to be carrying around. It made something shift in her chest.

Illario Dellamorte truly was a beautiful man, one of the most beautiful she had seen if she were being honest. The sharp angles of his face—so different from the soft curves of her own features—didn't make him look severe. She wondered how they would fit. Would the bridge of his nose slip into the dip of hers? Would their foreheads align? Would their lips?

The warmth of his breath tickling her mouth, lips almost feathering over hers, made her realise she was leaning in to kiss him, and just for a second, she wanted to see what might happen if she did. If she stopped pretending that she wasn't curious and wasn't above wanting to. Ironically, it was his word that snapped her out of her daze. Mistakes… It would be a mistake to kiss him… and she could learn from it, even before she made it.

Pulling back and breathing in the cooling evening air, Lilya tore her eyes from his and let out a shaky breath. Viago was right about him; he was much more than people gave him credit for. More charming. More vexing. And much more kind.

“I… I apologise,” she said, voice low, already hating the way she sounded so young and pathetic. “My mistake for skipping dinner. Hunger makes me do ridiculous things.” 

Illario didn’t flinch. He merely smiled at her. “There are worse mistakes. Don’t worry about it,” he said lightly. A bid to make her feel better, but it failed. She was starting to discern the times when he wore a mask and the times he let her peek behind it. This time the mask was firmly in place, careful to hide anything real from her, but the thickness of the space between them he could not hide, and in the quiet, she felt it. His disappointment.

An awkward minute crawled past them until Illario clapped his hands and wiped them together, standing up and stretching to dissipate the discomfort that had bubbled between them. Lilya knew as well as he did that it would do them no good to obsess over it; it would only further the divide, and they could not afford any setbacks in the future. Taking one final look to check if the guards were patrolling the streets, Illario glanced back at her from over his shoulder and nodded that they were safe to continue, beginning his ascent back to the rooftops where they were safest.

Mimicking his foot placement and holds along the building, she accepted his hand up to climb onto the roof, careful of where and how she stood lest another tile decide to declare war upon her. Illario noticed, because of course he did, and he coughed quietly into his fist.

"You good there, Baby Bird?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine."

"Good." He grinned. "Last one back to the hotel roof has to buy the other cake every day for the next week."

Illario sped ahead of her, barely finishing his sentence before jumping to the next building, leaving Lilya gaping and calling him every name under the sun in her head as she willed herself to catch up. His laughter was on the wind, brushing past her as she inched closer to him, the man proving to be as agile as a Crow should be, sneaking looks back at her and then increasing his pace to widen the gap between them.

The terracotta roof of the Lantern & Lyre was in sight, the wonky sign with too many letters missing, clear even in the dim light, and Lilya was already calculating how much of her coin was going to be spent on this man's choice of cake. She doubted he'd be as merciful on her wallet as he was to her person. To be truthful, she did not know which she would have preferred.

It was not obvious, not at first, but when she found herself right on his heels, then overtaking him as they climbed up the side of the hotel, her suspicions were confirmed. The bastard had slowed down on purpose to let her win. Standing less than an arm's length apart, bent over and breathing hard, Lilya squeezed at her sides to fight off the stitch that was clawing at her.

"I don't need your pity," she spat in between gulps of air, pushing him back gently, no fire in her attack.

"Pity?" he repeated, eyebrows as high as his hairline. "That wasn't pity. I just wanted the night to last a little longer was all. Give you more time to stop your mind from dissecting every little thing you did, to stop you from regretting your mistakes." He began to walk away. "Get some sleep, Baby Bird," he threw over his shoulder.

When he was gone, she stood alone on the top of the roof, still breathing hard, mind reeling.

He didn’t try to kiss her again. He had left her there. Would he come back up?

She didn’t stay long enough to find out.

Mistakes, he had said. Was that in relation to the mistakes she made at the Vitelli Guild on both occasions… or perhaps… did he mean her almost-mistake of kissing him? Did he want her not to regret what she had almost let herself do?

She had been warned. Illario wasn’t just another Crow. He was the First Talon’s blood, Caterina’s grandson. If she touched him and it meant something, it wouldn’t just be her head on the line. It would be all of House de Riva. 

It was around midnight when Marcus knocked on Lucanis's door. He wasn't seen the whole evening. It was unlike Lucanis to retire without saying good night to Vincenzo, Lorina and him. Even to Illario. At this point, their relationship seemed to have improved. Illario assisted him more. When Marcus stepped into the bedroom, he thought Lucanis was just sleeping. But he sensed something was off. He tried to wake him up, but Lucanis didn't open his eyes, he didn't move at all. Everything happened so fast. Marcus shouting for help, Illario running into the room with the servants behind him. Soon the healer arrived as well. It was too late, Lucanis was gone. No injuries were found on his body. They barely had any time to react, because there was movement outside the mansion. Crows that did not belong to House Dellamorte.

Everything became a blur for Marcus. He couldn't react as fast as Illario did. He didn't even notice being dragged out of Lucanis's room. Illario was talking to him, but he didn't hear it. Lucanis was his friend and a part of his family. More and more Dellamorte Crows appeared inside the mansion and this is when Marcus managed to snap back into reality. He woke up Vincenzo, who was two years old and Lorina, who was only one. He wanted to help Illario, but he also needed to protect their children. Even if he wanted to, Illario would have not let him leave the mansion. He witnessed his own parents being murdered in a surprise attack and he wouldn't allow the same to happen to his family. He already lost Lucanis.

A few enemy Crows managed to get inside the mansion, but Marcus and the Dellamorte Crows who stayed in the building cut them all down. The enemies who got close to the room where Vincenzo and Lorina were hiding were burned to death by Marcus. Illario and the other Crows fought outside, killing everyone. Illario didn't know who was behind this, or at least not yet. It could have been a Talon, several Talons, or people from a lesser House. The Crows who broke into the estate didn't seem to have belonged to any House.

Illario knew the Talons or at least some of them thought was a weak First Talon. They claimed he was soft, despite having high hopes for him when he succeeded Caterina. Illario feared it would come to this. He blamed himself. He blamed Lucanis. He blamed Caterina. He blamed the ones who did it.

Illario's actions following the assault on the estate later became known as "Massacro di mezzanotte" (Midnight Massacre). Despite still remembering the things Illario has done, some Talons made the mistake of putting Lucanis and Illario under the same hat. But Illario wasn't as merciful as his cousin. He didn't spare anyone. His enemies weren't prepared for the brutality of the attack. Servants, Crows, Talons, bigger and smaller Houses, submitting, fleeing or retaliating, it didn't matter to him. When Viago and Teia, who were in Treviso, heard the news of Lucanis's death, they sided with Illario and his Crows. They weren't best friends with Illario, but after the years, their relationship improved somewhat. But more importantly, they wanted revenge for Lucanis. Because he was their friend. Illario's sudden attack, the large number of Dellamorte Crows, and the lack of unity among the other Talons was already enough for victory, but after Viago and Teia joined Illario, it was really just a massacre.

When the one behind Lucanis's assassination was found, it still wasn't enough for Illario. Even after the Crow was interrogated and tortured, Illario craved more revenge. He was so blinded by his anger he didn't care if he was killing innocents. Marcus, however, managed to eventually calm him down. Illario, Marcus and their children were the only remaining memories of Lucanis. This was one of the reasons Viago and Teia supported Illario as the new First Talon. After the events of the past days, there wasn't really anyone left to oppose him. Those who were still alive were wise enough to not oppose him.

@handsignals, @himluv, @sorcerousadventurer, @dags-over-caravans, @chaosherald, @serialsforbellara, @necromanticsoul, @sandcastlekings, @redheadsramblings, @sapphireangelbunny, @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai, @wolfsong-the-bloody-beast, @hedwigoprah, @redaresss, @mushrooms-x-moss, @grand-crow, @davrinsleftpectoral, @blackwall-my-tiny-husband, @pixiedurango, @jukkaricity, @ladyofcrowsandcoffee, @lycheecatee, @the-archons-moustache, @rooks-dagger, @maagisterpavus, @dell-amor-te, @hibiscus-wo-tabeta, @reaver-of-kirkwall, @woundedsoul12, @shadrachanki, @jellyeliart, @biowaredisasterbisexual

It's a rotoscope animation of this kiss scene from the canadian movie "Matthias & Maxime" released in 2019! It was supposed to be a quick animation exercise but I kept adding details, and then colours, and welp 😂🙈Mission successfully failed!✨

Some WIPs and notes, if anyone is interested in learning how to do efficient rotoscope animation! Unlike other types of animation where the final focus is on the flow, stay focused on one element at the time.

I started with Illario's eye, and then carefully added one bit at the time, switching between all 54 frames of this animation! I only did the first frame "fully" to have a blueprint of what I wanted to do! Focusing on only one element maintains a cohesiveness that can be lost if you're tracing each frames entirely! Also yes, rotoscope IS tracing. And tracing isn't nearly as bad as people loves to make it seem online haha

It's a very common technique in animated movies, and I recommend you to check out the making of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (made in 1937, back when Disney was doing good stuff lol)