@spihte liked for a starter
the creak of a floorboard catches illario's ear, an easy thing to notice with keen senses and little company. with his body turned, the assassin glances over to take a look at his visitor, a subtle twitch of his lips as he notices lucanis' familiar frame out of the corner of his eye. with his excitement muted, the dellamorte picks up his wine glass, swirling the red liquid lazily.
"lucanis," he drawls, his tone as smooth as the vintage he's holding, "come to rub in my punishment? scold me further, perhaps? or maybe you simply missed my company—"
he finally turns, ready with another quip ... then stops.
his smirk freezes on his lips as his gaze settles on the figure before him. lucanis stands there, or at least something that looks like him. but those eyes ... illario recognises that purple glow.
illario's jaw tightens, and for a fleeting moment, the cracks in his bravado show. the dellamorte's grip tightens on the glass, but he doesn't raise it to his lips.
"well," he says finally, his voice slower now, forced into its usual confidence, "this is ... unexpected."
illario doesn't move, doesn't step forward. his cocky demeanor remains but his body is tense, feet spread perfectly apart and ready to pounce if he must. he's watching, waiting, measuring—because whatever stands before him, it’s no longer the man he once knew.
