#mournblade

“It is not a date, Spite, stop saying it is.”

Lucanis looked into the metal platter he had hung on the wall in the pantry to serve as a mirror. He hung it there so he could properly groom his hair and beard, always mindful of his image. It was one of those things that Caterina hammered into his head growing up, and he remembered the rap to his knuckles from her cane when even a hair was out of line. 

His hair had always been something he had kept long, but his beard and mustache had grown out during his time in the Ossuary. He liked the length, but he had trimmed it just a little to keep it groomed and presentable, Catarina's voice in the back of his head-- 'We are Crows, and we are Dellamortes. We must always present ourselves at our best.' 

He'd have to remember to pick up some oils from a barber the next time he was in Treviso.

"You Two. Drinking Coffee. And Tea. Alone." Spite looked over Lucanis' shoulder into the reflection of the mirror, watching with intent purple glow as the assassin combed through his beard. The ever present smirk resting on the demon's face, it had once been unnerving for Lucanis to see, now it was just life. It was certainly better than the scowl he used to see all the time, a scowl that was too familiar, one that belonged to all the Dellamortes.

"It. Is. A. Date."

"It is not a date." Lucanis repeated, emphasizing the last words as he looked over his shoulder back at the demon, a glare of warning in his sharp eyes. He continued on with his routine, trying to ignore Spite as best as he could, but he couldn’t keep from correcting the maligned spirit with a huff and a quick string of words.

"It is just two friends who are interested in learning about each other's cultures having a chat over their favorite drinks. It is not a date."

The demon smirked, moving from behind Lucanis to lean back against the wall beside the mirror. It used to be a disorienting thing, seeing his face on the demon’s, mirroring him but not at the same time. Now much like the smirk and his violet eyes, Lucanis had come to accept that this was all just part of his life.

At least he had friends, and one friend in particular, to help him find his new equilibrium. While not everyone was entirely comfortable with the demon’s existence, Emmrich had been the most accepting of the fact that Spite was a part of Lucanis that wasn’t going to go away. In fact, Emmrich had helped him to realize that, while their situation was an unfortunate circumstance, they could learn to exist copacetic.

Mostly.

“It is not a date.” Lucanis repeated, this time a bit firmer as he set down the brush and ran his hands down the front of his vest, smoothing out the fabric. Again, he could hear his grandmother’s instructions as faint memories in his mind. ‘You must be clean. Sharp. Like a knife. People need to know you are death walking.’

"Are You Trying To Convince Me? Or You?"

“Spite…”

“You Like Him, Lucanisss. You Like Him So Much You Want Him To–”

“¡Cállate! Spite, please, it is not like that.”

“Tell That To Your Dreams.”

With that, it seemed the demon was content to fade back into the background with the last word and a lingering cackle. The frustrated and flustered look on Lucanis face as he stared back at himself in the mirror only served as proof of how true Spite’s words were. How many nights had he woken up in a sweat, finding himself flustering and wanting from the lewd images his mind would conjure up during what little sleep he’d allow himself to have? 

It was Emmrich’s hands that he had dreamt about the most. The way they moved as the necromancer worked his magic, how they delicately traced the spines of the books on his shelf when he was looking for a particular title, the way they turned a page, wet with the saliva he’d licked across his thumb to separate the fragile ephemera…

The things he had dreamt about those hands doing to him. Touching him all over, expert hands that were so familiar and intimate with anatomy, the cool metal of his grave dowry brushing his skin, fingers touching his jaw, his shoulders, down his chest and abdomen and then–

Mierda, Lucanis, get yourself together. It isn’t like that with him.

As much as he’d like it to be that way with the older man, Lucanis struggled with believing he could ever have a chance, let alone even have Emmrich’s interest. The Mortalitasi had been nothing but kind, compassionate, and understanding with the Crow, but Lucanis didn’t ever see it as being anything more than the same generosity and consideration Emmrich gave to everyone. 

There was no way a man like Emmrich, whose duty it was to ease the suffering and grief of both the living and the dead in times of great grief, would fall for someone who was often the very cause of that grief. Though Emmrich had made it clear he saw Lucanis as far more than an assassin from the start, he was more aware than anyone that the two of them were on the opposite sides of death.

Emmrich soothed Death. Lucanis created it. How could a man like Emmrich be interested in a death dealer like him?

And there was, of course, Spite. How could he ever think he’d have a chance with someone, anyone, when he was tethered in body, mind, and soul to a demon? No, no one wanted to deal with that baggage, he was certain. And with his life in the Crows, especially if he was going to be stepping into the mantle of First Talon? How would that even work?

Though, Emmrich was rather accepting of Spite. He never once treated their situation as anything more than unfortunate. And Spite, he knew already, enjoyed the company of the necromancer. In the early days, when the necromancer first joined them, Emmrich would read to Spite to allow Lucanis a few hours sleep, keeping the demon happy and occupied to allow the assassin his rest. It wasn’t the only thing Emmrich did for him either.

Emmrich had been the first person he’d let see how much he’d been hiding the grief of losing Caterina, he’d been the first to offer his comfort. And the man had not judged him when he had come to Emmrich to finally allow himself to feel the grief, to lament his loss and everything that came with it. He’d been nothing more than a friend, a comfort, an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on. Was it any wonder his dreams would wander towards having so much more with the mage?

He sighed, shoving all those thoughts and worries away for another time. All he wanted to focus on was the nice, pleasant get together he was about to have with his friend. Tea, coffee, and a discussion about the differences and similarities in authors from Antiva and Nevarra. He had the perfect book picked out, an adventure that bordered just enough on the edge of romance that it wouldn’t be inappropriate for two friends to discuss.

‘Focus on what is important, Lucanis.’ Caterina’s voice echoed in his head. ‘Antiva, the Crows, and your contract. Everything else is just fantasy, and fantasies should remain just that.’

Lucanis sighed as the stern chiding of his grandmother faded away in his mind. Fantasies. It was nothing more than that, and it certainly was never going to be anything more than that.

And it certainly was not a date.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Was this a date?

The thought had struck the necromancer when he was getting set up for the weekly little get together that he and Lucanis had begun not long after Emmrich had joined the team. It started out as a way for him to meet and talk with Spite without distraction, to understand the maligned spirit and the unique situation that he and the assassin had been forced into. Though now, through the help and coaching he’d been giving to both spirit and Crow alike, the two of them seemed to be finding a way to coexist despite the tragic circumstances that had brought them together.

Now, with Spite more calm and better behaved, more understanding of the way the human world worked, their little get-togethers had gone on to other discussions. About Antiva and Nevarra, or the books they were reading for the book club, or really just anything that struck their interest, in conversations that could last well into the night. 

Neither of them seemed to be willing to give up their weekly get-togethers. Whether it’s to continue a conversation from their prior visit, or to discuss something brought up at the end, it seemed instead they would always find another reason to meet the next week. Indeed, he went so far as to let Rook know that this time was their time, and unless it was truly world ending business, he’d prefer them not to be disturbed.

But they weren’t dates. 

And Spite had become quite a fixture in Manfred’s life as well, the two of them having their own base of connection and form of communication as spirits. It warmed his heart to see Manfred making a genuine friend, and it never ceased to marvel him, how much his ward had grown. It gave him a small bit of hope that Manfred would do just fine without him eventually… a thought that was both precious and woeful all at once. 

Such was the life of a death mage.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the clattering of cups and saucers on a tray as his skeletal assistant carried in the refreshments for this get-together. He turned to Manfred and smiled warmly, moving to grab the tray from him to set it down on the table between two chairs sat by his fireplace. A regular set up for these meetings of theirs, this time Emmrich included a variety of pastries from Nevarra to share with Lucanis, along with the coffee and tea that both came from Antiva. A perfect mixing of their cultures to share between them.

“Andraste’s Grace, it almost does appear to be a date, doesn’t it, Manfred?” Emmrich mused out loud, but he shook his head and simply chuckled to himself. Silly notion. Really, if it had been a true date, he’d have chosen something a little more impressive than his own study, with coffee, tea, and some pastries.

Especially because a man like Lucanis deserved something more impressive. Not that Emmrich thought Lucanis would want more, necessarily. The Crow had never flaunted his wealth, though Emmrich knew well enough that Lucanis had grown up in a far more privileged life than his own. Lucanis had always been more humble about it, not at all like the nobles he’d grown up around, the ones who had made sure that those without knew how without they were.

No, Lucanis wasn’t like them at all, for all the nobility that the Crow truly possessed and was raised in. That alone was an admirable trait. Never once did he see Lucanis talk down to those less privileged, and never did he present himself as anyone’s better. 

Emmrich gave a soft sigh as he lost himself in those thoughts. There were so many other things to admire about Lucanis. The way the man was always making sure to take care of everyone else, the way he noticed the little things. The necromancer was still touched by the fact the assassin made sure to take his diet into consideration when making meals. Not that the others didn’t, but Lucanis was the first to truly notice he’d politely pick out the meat and leave it on the side of his plate.

Kind, witty, thoughtful, and sharply intelligent…

No, if he was to court a man like Lucanis, he’d put in far more effort than this small little treat. He wouldn’t have it there in his study in the Lighthouse. It would be somewhere special, unique, with a proper meal to share. Yes, a man like Lucanis might not expect more than what he had set up for them now, but that was all the more reason to want to give him something more special…

That is, if it was a date. But it wasn’t.

He highly doubted he would ever have to, or rather have the chance to, put forward that effort. Long ago, he’d put away such notions of romance, never finding the one. Some people were just fated as such, and he had accepted that fate with as much grace as he could muster, even if it left him terribly lonely. “Not a date.” Emmrich said to himself aloud, to which Manfred responded with a simple shrug before he moved off to reshelve the books from Emmrich’s desk.

It didn’t stop him entertaining the idea of just how he would woo the assassin, however. Perhaps it was just a fun little thought experiment, or perhaps it was wishful thinking, but he pondered it over in his mind what it might take to impress Lucanis and win over the Crow’s heart.

Nothing too incredibly elaborate, not for a first date at least, he wouldn’t want to come off too strongly right out the gate. And yet it would have to be special, somewhere other than the Lighthouse study where they regularly met. Perhaps that little cafe in Treviso that Lucanis had always talked about. He imagined how lovely it would be to sit there in comfortable silence with the Crow as the sun set on the canals, painting the waters of Treviso in hues of pink and purple until the ripples reflected the stars in the sky.

But would that sight be too familiar for the crow, less spectacular than what one would want to show to impress a date? Emmrich then mused on the idea of bringing Lucanis to the Necropolis for a first date, a first real date. The Memorial Gardens were a splendid place for a picnic, and the necromancer knew precisely the least crowded places and times to visit so that they could enjoy each other’s company in peace. Yes, a picnic in the gardens would be perfect. He knew that Lucanis was showing more and more interest in Nevarran culture as of late, part of what had sparked the idea for this next get together after their last one.

Emmrich would make sure to find the perfect, quiet spot, a place where there would be no distractions so that he could give his undivided attention to the rogue. He even had an idea of the perfect tree to lay the blanket out beneath, in a little corner tucked away from the most walked pathways. He’d bring far more than pastries, it would be a sampling of breads and fresh fruits and vegetables in season in Nevarra, and only the finest of Nevarran wines.

He could imagine himself laying on the blanket across from Lucanis, with a plate of fruit between them, laughing and smiling with the rogue in quiet, comfortable seclusion. He’d pick up a piece of fruit to feed to the assassin, relish in the way Lucanis would take it between his lips, Emmrich’s thumb lingering on the bottom one before leaning in and–

Maker, what had gotten into him, to entertain the foolish and romantic notions that were better suited to younger men?

That had been quite enough entertaining, Emmrich thought, and focused on completing the task at hand. Everything had been set, but one thing was missing. Lucanis would be bringing his own selection of his favorite Antivan author, but Emmrich had yet to pick his book. He moved over to the shelves where he kept his fictional material, browsing over the titles to decide which would be the most appropriate. He settled on, of all things, a romance title, reading no further into it than the fact it happened to be Lucanis’ favorite genre.

There wasn’t much time to think through on that thought, however, as he heard a knock at the door, and Manfred excitedly looked excitedly over to Emmrich. The necromancer gave him a small smile and nodded, watching his skeletal ward trot off excitedly to answer the door for Lucanis and Spite, no doubt looking forward to spending more time with the demon.

In any case, with Lucanis’ arrival, Emmrich shoved aside any of the silly, romantic notions that he’d been ruminating about. He stood by his chair instead, holding the book he’d chosen close to his chest, awaiting the entrance of his very good friend for their visit.

All the while, he had to remind himself, it was not a date.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hola, Manfred.” Lucanis said with a smile as he greeted the skeleton, who gave him a wave with a small, excited croak before he spotted Spite and excitedly started chattering away with the demon in whatever the language it was they shared. It wasn’t words, it was more like pleasant, faded noises that were indecipherable. Whatever it was, Manfred was excitedly making those noises as he led Spite up the staircase while Lucanis walked into the room with a chuckle and a smile.

The assassin stopped short for a moment as he walked into the room, eyes falling on Emmrich as he stood by his chair, tall and stoic with that warm and inviting smile on his face. A smile that today, with all the talk his demon had about this being a date, caused his stomach to flip. He didn’t let that stumble him, though, instead returning the smile with equal warmth.

His eyes traveled down and paused on the book and the way Emmrich held it, cradled in his arm, his other hand curling fingers around the spine, and the Crow had to quickly dart his eyes away to keep those earlier thoughts about those fingers from bubbling forward again. Instead, he looked to the tray on the table set up with the pastries and the drinks, and his gaze was back up on Emmrich’s face as he moved towards his usual chair, his own book tucked under his arm. “Refreshments? Gracias, mi amigo.” Lucanis said with an appreciative tone.

Emmrich had not missed the way Lucanis looked him over, though he dismissed it as the man’s usual Crow attentiveness to detail, even if he’d never before noticed the assassin’s eyes doing such a thing. But he couldn’t help himself from doing the same, looking over Lucanis as he took note of the younger man’s appearance. He’d trimmed his beard since the last he saw him, not shorter but cleaner, and he looked to have a bit more color in his cheeks. It would seem that the little naps he’d been able to give the rogue by reading to Spite were finally starting to do him some good.

“Gern geschehen, my friend.” Emmrich said with a smile, nodding to the pastries sitting on the table. Puff pastries with marzipan, almond, and rosewater. “Bethmännchen. Traditionally, they’re made for Winter’s End celebrations. I happen to know a little shop in the Necropolis which sells them year round.”

Lucanis smiled warmly as he took his seat, noting the coffee and tea as well, and he could recognize the scent of them both as the blends he’d brought back from Treviso for Emmrich to try. That brought even more appreciation to his smile and he picked up the cup of coffee as he set his book in his lap. Closing his eyes as he took in the scent of the warm liquid, he took a sip and smiled.

“Maravilloso.” Lucanis said, drawing the cup away from his lips and opening his eyes to look up at Emmrich where he still stood. He’d been a little surprised to see the necromancer starting down at him, seemingly stunned for a moment before he appeared to catch himself and smile at the assassin. “I am glad you like it. Manfred has become quite proficient in brewing coffee, thanks to your guidance. And, there is less steam for him to be distracted by.” Emmrich said with a small chuckle, passing off the fact he’d been staring at Lucanis, specifically his lips as the Crow had sipped the coffee and lost himself in the taste of it. 

He wondered how much of the stare Lucanis had caught, but if he did see it, the Crow hadn’t said anything and simply took another sip of his coffee as if there was nothing that passed silently between them.

Of course nothing passed silently between us. Maker, Emmrich, get a grip on yourself! You are not a young and foolish man anymore, and Lucanis would hardly–

“Is there something wrong, Emmrich?” Lucanis’ voice pierced through his thoughts, and he realized he was staring off into the distance now, but his gaze had still been on the assassin the whole time.

“No! No, nothing at all, I was just lost in thought there for a moment. Flaw of an academic mind, I am afraid. We find ourselves thinking on the what ifs and would haves from time to time.” Emmrich said, giving a small, dismissive wave of his hand before he finally took his seat across from the Crow, setting his book in his own lap, silently scolding himself for even letting such foolish thoughts distract him from his friend’s actual company.

Lucanis wondered what Emmrich had been lost so deep in thought about. He could guess about a hundred different things that could be going on behind those hazel eyes that reminded him so much of the fruit of the olive trees that grew behind the Villa. He thought how much Emmrich might enjoy seeing those trees, with his love of botany. It brought his thoughts back to what Spite had been saying earlier about this being a date.

No, if he was going to take Emmrich on a date, it would be somewhere special, away from the place they were fighting for the world. He knew how much Emmrich loved the Memorial Gardens in the Necropolis, perhaps a picnic there would be the sort of thing he would like. But he goes there all the time. Maybe somewhere in Treviso? Cafe Pietra. Lucanis himself preferred the coffee, but they had a few good tea blends as well, ones he was certain that Emmrich would like. And then a gondola on the canals, watching the sun setting into the waters and being able to run his hands through the colors reflecting on the water, sitting beside Emmrich and perhaps for once feeling at peace…

“Lucanis?”

“Pardon? Oh, I, ah…” Lucanis chuckled, a little flush on his cheeks as he realized he was holding his cup up to his lips without taking a sip, and it had been his turn to stare off in the distance so distracted by his thoughts.  “It seems that both of us are far away in thought tonight, mi amigo.”

“Indeed.” Emmrich said with a little bit of a quiet chuckle, wondering just what it was that had Lucanis so preoccupied. There was so much going on in their lives, between the Blight and the Gods and the trials and tribulations of their own personal lives, but nothing that he could think of that would have Lucanis turning pink in such a way. But, it was a wonder any of them could keep their heads straight, and perhaps he was just flustered and exhausted like they’d all been lately. 

It was one of the reasons the mortalitasi valued these meetings with Lucanis every week. Typically, they were grounding, giving him something to focus on besides the work, something to look forward to and remind him what they were all fighting for.

And he did terribly enjoy the assassin’s company.

“I am sorry, Emmrich. I don’t think my head is here for the discussion about literature…” Lucanis said, holding his book up with a little bit of a defeated grin and a sigh before letting it fall back into his lap.

“Oh.” Emmrich let out a little disappointed sound, his shoulders slipping just so. Though he kept a smile on his face, there was a hint of sadness creeping into his expression. Had he done something wrong?

“...but that does not mean I don’t want to stay for coffee and pastries.” Lucanis quickly followed up when he saw that look in the other man’s eye, and his words were entirely sincere. He didn’t want to talk literature or academics. He just wanted to have an easy, lighthearted conversation with his friend.

“Oh? Oh! Of course, we mustn’t need stick to the curriculum, so to speak. Some of my best lectures have been the ones that stray entirely off topic.” Emmrich said, his hazel eyes brightening as he realized that Lucanis wanted to stay. He set his own book aside on the table beside the tray and leaned back, folding his hands in his lap as he smiled at the rogue. “Very well, then. Is there anything else in particular you’d like to discuss?”

Lucanis was quiet for a moment as he looked at Emmrich, wondering what it was he could talk to or ask him about. They’d had many of these little get togethers already, and he realized that there wasn’t much about the mage that he didn’t know, and yet most of what it is that he knew had to do with Emmrich’s academic life and his work, but not much about the man himself.

“What is your favorite flower?” Lucanis asked with a smile.

“Hmm?” Emmrich hummed curiously, not because he didn’t hear the assassin, but because the question had caught him out of the blue. He realized, then, that Lucanis was quietly and subtly asking to know him on a deeper level. Lucanis wanted to learn more about who he was and not what he does, “You have said before you would do botany if you were not a mortalitasi.” Lucanis pointed out, and the mage felt even more touched at the fact that the Crow remembered. “So, your favorite flower, what is it?”

“There are so many. I have always been fond of lilacs, for their subtle hues and marvelous scent. But there is a flower that grows in the Necropolis, Shroud’s Kiss. A beautiful, soft, glowing bloom of white.” Emmrich said with a smile.

“Mmm, they sound beautiful. Perhaps next time Rook has us in the Gardens, you’ll have to point them out to me.” Lucanis said, looking over the pastries before picking one out to take a bite.

“Or perhaps, I can show you tomorrow night… just the two of us?” Emmrich asked gently, testing the waters. “To truly appreciate the beauty of the Memorial Gardens, it would be much better done without worrying about work.”

Perhaps he was being foolish. Perhaps he was reading everything wrong and Lucanis was only trying to fill in the silence with conversation, and it wasn’t the assassin looking for a deeper connection. Or perhaps it was, with the surprised look in Lucanis’ eye as he was mid-bite when the question was asked.

As politely as possible, Lucanis swallowed the bite and picked up a napkin to wipe the crumbs from his mustache and beard before taking a sip of his coffee to swallow down the pastry and the shock. But there was nothing on his lips except for a smile as he looked at Emmrich and finally nodded, and Emmrich could finally let go of the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding while he awaited the answer.

“I would like that, my friend.” Lucanis said, and Emmrich saw something that was almost hopeful in the assassin’s eyes. It was a look he wasn’t entirely sure he expected to see, but it wasn’t a look he was going to soon forget.