#jucio

When some guy cuts off your arm so you claim his as your bestie forever W/o text below

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: The Arcana (Visual Novel) Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Apprentice/Lucio (The Arcana), Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana), Apprentice/Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana), Julian Devorak/Original Female Character(s), Lucio (The Arcana)/Original Female Character(s), Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana)/Original Character(s) Characters: Julian Devorak, Lucio (The Arcana), The Apprentice - Character, Original Female Character(s), Nazali Satrinava, Count Spada (The Arcana) Additional Tags: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory, Blood, Injury, Mild Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Romance, Slow Burn, Julian's POV, Lucio's POV, Amputation, Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Alcohol, Plague, Pre-Red Plague (The Arcana), Red Plague (The Arcana), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tarot Series: Part 1 of End Up Here (Reworked)

Chapter Summary: Julian is thrown for a loop when one of Bakuli's poems seems to reference him, of all people.

Chapter 5: Warmth

Julian settles in for bed, Bakuli’s poetry splayed out on the comforter before him. He reads it by candlelight with a glass of Prakran whiskey Nazali gave him long ago, as a congratulations for completing his training. Julian hoards it for special occasions, and this seems like special occasion enough. He devours each poem, finding particular joy in one Bakuli has seemingly written about her childhood spent on the canals of Vesuvia. Her verses are sprightly, iambic, and lyrical.

He imagines himself lounging on the cobblestones lining the Vesuvian canals, his fingers trailing through the crystal-clear waters. Bakuli sits beside him; face shaded by a wide-brimmed sun hat and smile bright enough to rival the day around them. Julian can feel the magician’s love of Vesuvia in every line. Bakuli’s heart beats in each word and her light seems to trickle into Julian’s veins. Warmed by Bakuli’s poems and the spice of his Prakran whiskey, Julian finds his head beginning to nod. A yawn escapes his lips, but he resolves to finish the last few poems in the stack.

Reaching the last poem, Julian expects another playful composition about spells or summers spent on the water. Instead, however, he is met with something a bit more cryptic and in a style that diverges slightly from Bakuli’s other poems. It also has lines crossed out, words scribbled over, and little notes of possible synonyms in the margins...