#crowmorte

Lucanis is content to let his gaze linger, loving in its study of every mark upon their face. Rook's breathing is soft, almost imperceptible, almost in sync with his. Whether dreamless or not, it is peaceful slumber — rest that does not come easily, but that they can find in his arms, the rest of the world unable to reach them if only for a few hours.

They look beautiful like this; they always do, but certain lights accentuate it perfectly. Silver hair bathed in soft golden light, there is something of ethereal in them that leaves him mesmerized. It calls him to worship; Lucanis had not meant to risk disturbing them, but his fingertips tentatively brush their back, then thread gently through silver locks. His lips do not take long to follow, all reverence as they press upon Rook's shoulder, jaw, cheek, temple — a string of tender devotion he cannot hold back from.

"actually, cousin," illario corrects, raising a finger, "i spill the drink, or  i  drink  it  in  one  go  and  charm  with  my  skill.  i  do  not  just  take  it."  illario  folds  his  arms  and  scowls.  "that  would  be  your  approach—just  take  it  and  stand  there  looking  all  stiff  and  awkward."

"did you really think a kiss goodbye sounds lacking in intention, lucanis?" illario scoffs, folding his arms. "it is already more than i have heard from you in regards to romance for as long as i have known you. but perhaps, if that is truly the case, i will pursue rook myself." illario lets the words linger with a playful smirk. "they already like me better, after all."

no one made it out unscathed. whether it be body or pride ( or both ), everyone is licking their wounds. they are – were and with aches, bruises, and hair half its length, they’re trying to soothe others’ sting. the results are mixed.

“ i’d rather you not, ” they say. “ i did say i would return you to treviso when this ended. alive. ” 

comfort is a fickle thing. taking a different form for each and every face, and florence wonders how they’re meant to know what to use and when to use it. humor is their default. unfortunately, it doesn’t hold its usual strength. 

they do not sit. hands grasping the back of a chair, they use it as a prop. “ no one could have predicted what would happen. it was. . . ” voice trails to silence, and a swarm of thoughts take over.

@crowmorte said, "His head rests upon their lap, the entanglement foreign and so overwhelmingly cherished that it is not so hard to push past his uncertainty then. Even the agonizing he had endured for hours, afraid his affectionate gesture would not be enough (that he would not be enough) is erased by the bliss of Rook's soft touch upon his hair. They have been talking for some time, enjoying each other's company in the quiet of Rook's room. Lucanis cannot remember the last time he had felt so at peace — if the feeling had been known at all before this. He opens his eyes, brown searching for blue, still warm and languid, and reaches for one of their hands, a gentle caress of his thumb before bringing it to his lips. There is no desire in him to leave, yet he has occupied Rook's time for long enough. Besides, he cannot stay — not when it might subject them to Spite, regardless of how calm the demon currently is. A gentle offer to give them the deserved peace of mind, then, softspoken. ❝ I should let you rest. ❞

rook’s  fingers  slow to a still  in  their  path  through  his  hair,  the softness in their gaze turning into something more solemn.  they  don’t  want  him  to  leave—not  when  it feels like they only just got to this point. not after such a meaningful dinner. not after weeks upon weeks of yearning ...

"you  don’t  have  to  go,"  they  say  softly.  "you  can  stay  as  long  as  you  like."

their blue  eyes  meet lucanis' own  with  sincerity,  willing  him  to  understand  that they  mean  it. pausing for a moment, rook is quiet as their  thoughts  churn,  debating  what  to  say  next.  their  hesitation  stretches,  but  they  finally  find  their  voice.

"if ... i  mean …  if  you  wanted  to  stay  ...  that  would  be  fine  too.  just  to  sleep,  of  course—nothing  else." not that they wouldn't mind anything else, but the pace they've taken things at has been slow and—despite the yearning becoming painful at times—they don't want to change the pace of whatever this is now. but this ... what rook suggests ... it's innocent, no? holding each other through the night or at least until spite demands attention?

they  push  on,  their  tone  still soft.  "you don't need to worry about spite; i can handle him. i just ... i'm not too fond of the idea of letting you go now that i've got you." a gentle brush of rook's fingers through lucanis' hair once more and their smile turns just a tad teasing. "sorry. you're stuck with me now, whether you like it or not."