hehe, thank you for the ask!!

21. 🎲 WILDCARD! Dealer's choice :)

Since I rolled dealer's, I decided to do a little mix and match, so have a "A Kiss underwater" + "A Kiss to the Neck" 💙💛

Hi! Thanks for the prompt! I'm using Illario and Pompeiia for this one :)

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The streets of Treviso are quiet this late into the morning. Even the bar owners who don’t open until the eleventh bell have sent their stuporous patrons home. It’s quiet save for the swishing of a half-full bottle of Antivan red as it passes between two dark figures perched rather precariously on the edge of a rooftop overlooking the financial district.

Pompeiia takes the bottle in her hand, the glass still warm from where Illario had held it moments earlier. After a long swig, she begins to build up the courage to ask the question that has been nagging at the back of her mind since they started drinking on the rooftop all those hours ago. The full effects of the wine are tempered by the bread and cheese that lay in a small wicker basket between the two of them – they both knew better than to drink on an empty stomach, evidently. Still, her thoughts come slow and unfocused, as she sways to and fro just the slightest bit.

“I-Illario …” She starts, slurring the end of his name. Pompeiia chokes down a hiccup.

At that, Illario takes the bottle from her hand with a grin, “I think that’s enough wine for you, tonight”

He’s quick to replace the bottle with a small piece of focaccia from the basket.

Ever the gentleman.

“I…” she begins, before looking at the piece of fluffy bread now sitting in her palms. She takes a small bite and forms her words in her mind carefully, as if she were untangling the chains of two bracelets she had clumsily left too close together in her jewelry box. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something…” she says, around a mouthful of focaccia.

He pauses, mid-swig, and slowly lowers the bottle to his side. “You’ve asked me quite a few ‘somethings’ tonight already, my dear Pompeiia” Illario leans back on his hands and stares up at the black velvet sky outstretched above them. He leans his cheek against his shoulder, and peers at her with those striking blue-grey eyes from unfairly long eyelashes. “When do I get to ask you something?”

Whether the flush on her cheeks is from the alcohol, the sultry tone of his voice, or the stupid grin on his face she isn’t sure. She’s not certain she cares in this moment.

Pompeiia bravely barrels ahead, despite herself. “Why did you get my mother’s necklace back for me?”

From the way he straightens, Illario clearly wasn’t expecting that to come up tonight. The grin fades and his brows fall low.

Ignoring the effects of the wine, she painfully recalls the moment she sold her last remaining possession from Tevinter to help pay her room and board for the next few months. When she slid its golden chain into the jeweller’s calloused hand, there was a distinct feeling of losing some small, forgotten part of herself she had never examined too closely. Like a piece of her soul was covered in barbs to protect itself from the world, and from her.

Pompeiia couldn’t say she remembered anything of her mother. She had died shortly after Pompeiia was born, leaving her alone with a father and brother who never looked her way and more questions than answers.

Would she have loved me?

One day, she had come back from another round of unsuccessful job interviews, dejected and ready to bury herself in another bottle of cheap wine. All of a sudden, the familiar glint of a brilliant sapphire caught her eye. She blinked slowly, and her heart dropped in her chest. Pompeiia was ready to dismiss it as a trick of a light – it was impossible. But there it was, laid out perfectly on her small vanity desk.

It was undoubtedly her mother’s necklace, but what was it doing back in her room? She held it so tightly in her hands, afraid if she let go it would wink out of existence. Tears were streaming down her cheeks before she could think to stop them.

Pompeiia snaps herself out of the memory.

Illario brings his legs from dangling over the edge of the rooftop to sit criss-cross. He leans side-ways until his shoulder is touching hers. Pompeiia’s blush deepens and her heart thuds uncomfortably against the confines of her chest.

“No particular reason” he answers, then leans away. Just a moment too soon, she thinks.

“But the man you sold it to – Giovanni – he’s well known for giving the worst rates for pawning off fine jewelry. The locals avoid him like the plague”

Pompeiia, emboldened by the wine, nudges his shoulder with her own.

“Don’t lie, Dellamorte” she giggles, “You’re hoping to loot it off my dead body yourself one day, aren’t you?”

Illario snorts, “Well, it does look better on me”

Pompeiia gasps, and playfully smacks his arm, “Bastardo”

His brows raise at the insult, “Your Antivan accent is getting better, I see.”

“Gracias, I have a terrible teacher.”

“Idiota” Illario gives her a playful shove to the side, but the wine made him forget his strength. Pompeiia topples to the side and lands on her back in a burst of giggles. Illario laughs and joins her, lying on his back and staring up at the sky.

“Ask me something” Pompeiia says, after the sound of their laughter has carried off into the morning breeze.

Illario is quiet for a moment.

Pompeiia cranes her neck to the side and rests her hands on her stomach. For the first time since she’s known him, Pompeiia is met with nothing but sincerity in his eyes. His face seems more relaxed – and it’s not from the wine. For once, it doesn’t look like he’s trying to be anything other than Illario.

“Would you do this … again? With me?”

Pompeiia grins.