#beaillaneve

read on ao3 <-

Neve didn't know Illario had the ability to bite his tongue, but who knows how much has changed, at this point? There has to be a reason Rook took him back. Rook smiles fondly, across from them, and Neve flexes her fingers absently. She remembers the night at the opera house. There has to be a reason, she repeats to herself like a mantra. Or: Rook De Riva comes crashing back into Neve's life a year after Veilguard. Some things have changed, some haven't. Neve POV.

thank you for the tag @basedonconjecture <3 i'll tag @nonagesimus, @corvus-frugilegus, @classicleechaos, @reevuhs, @rookinthecrownest and @thewardenisonthecase <3

final piece of my beaillaneve triadposting: illaneve (also for @jenn2d2 xoxo)

i just felt like doing this one lmao.

thank you for the tags @serensama <3 conveniently i do actually have a neve-related wip!

I've been picking at beaillaneve again because i'm a dog for them.

They show up together, now. Every time Neve sees Illario Dellamorte trailing behind Rook, she tells herself that next time she'll turn them away. Next time never happens like that. She lets them in, every time. Illario makes some variety of snide remark about the decor, Neve replies with a sarcastic apology about not favoring Venatori-chic. Rook hovers somewhere between amused and concerned. It should feel like more of a betrayal than it does, Rook being with him still. For too many reasons to count, reasons that Neve doesn't want to think about, can't. But perhaps the exposure to Rook and Lucanis both has impaired her judgement, because Illario doesn't bother her quite as much as she would've thought. When she complains about trouble stirring in Minrathous, Venatori remnants trying to organize against Dorian, Illario looks at her with eyes that glint like a knife. There's a heavy silence, where he seems to mull something over, and Neve is surprised to find herself intrigued instead of annoyed by his dramatics. "We could stay a little longer, if you'd like." He says eventually, smooth and low. "Point us in the right direction and see what happens." He smiles, unsettlingly warm.

—

The next day, there's a gruesome severed hand wrapped in stained red silk on her doorstep. There's a note that says a gift for you in pretty, meticulous handwriting. She slams the door and goes back to bed, refusing to think about how much Illario Dellamorte reminds her of a stray cat. She'll dispose of the hand later.

thank you for the tag @flowersforthemachines <3 i'll tag @nonagesimus, @reevuhs and @ofcrowsanddragons!

made some progress with the beaillaneve fic so here u go (it's sitting at. 6k words rn?)