hey, thanks for coming over! I hope you enjoy my art sideblog ✧ദ്ദി( ˶^ᗜ^˶ ) just as a heads up, I'm currently working two separate freelancer jobs and don't have a lot of time to draw. please be aware of my low-effort sketches...
I've been focused in posting about baldur's gate 3 and dragon age: the veilguard due to being two major sources of comfort for me. astarion (bg3) and lucanis (da:v) in particular have character arcs that helped me work through stuff I'd been struggling with for a while, so I'm extremely grateful to everyone involved in developing them
take a look at my DA:V tag directory below the read more for a bunch of thoughts on lucanis, spite and dragon age lore in general (╭ರ_•́) 🔎
dividers by saradika-graphics found here: [x]
FEATURED TAVS / ROOKS
ZYRA MIRTHVEIL he/she/they || tiefling of asmodeus, charlatan, bard || college of lore
BRRANWIN (@muffinapologist) she/they || half-orc, folk hero, fighter || battle master
EZORR (@ink-cartoon) they/them || blue dragonborn, folk hero, wizard || school of abjuration
SAAR LAIDIR he/him || qunari, lord of fortune, rogue
CASTER (@dandyboyandy) he/him || dwarf, veil jumper, rogue
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I've been meaning to polish this since JANUARY, but the dialogue is so iconic to me I feel like focusing on the art would take away from it (the original, much funnier version is THIS one!)
There's ONLY one situation in which I'll accept putting Spite in the cuck chair: if it's used to rile him up so he fucks Lucanis and Rook extra hard afterwards. Hear me out, play with me in this space, alright?
To set the scene, they're all in the Lighthouse, Rook can both see and touch Spite separatedly from Lucanis. They bring silk to wrap around Spite's wrists and ankles, tying him to a chair - not too tight, just to serve as a reminder of their little game. The spirit may feel tempted to touch himself, but trying to move will tug at the restraints, and he'll let out a frustrated growl... while grinning, because he likes playing along.
Rook and Lucanis will put on a show for him, tempt Spite to join them, but simultaneously praise him for holding back so well. Meanwhile, he's clawing at the chair, bouncing his legs, near barking and foaming at the mouth. And when Spite's at his limit, the restraints are frail enough that he can break free like a feral animal (earning the satisfaction of breaking through the bonds) and finally, at last, claim his ultimate prize >:3
Meant to get this finished & posted yesterday but well, you know, best laid plans & all that. BUT technically got done. Near-ish midnight so I still take the W that it was done yesterday.
Preparing for Art Fight (I'll put a link to mine in my pinned if anyone's interested.... 👀) so uh, needed a character sheet for my dear man Caster! Very satisfied w/ it (This is a casual outfit)
Characters: Rook [Saar] Laidir, Lucanis Dellamorte
Pairing: Rook/Lucanis (Rookanis)
Word count: 242 words
Content warnings: a single NSFW line at the end
Saar really likes Lucanis's voice. It's smooth and warm like a cioccolata calda, tinged with a thick Antivan accent that made his heart skip a beat.
He's pretty sure he could pick it out from a crowd. Once, when they were infiltrating a Venatori settlement, Saar was sure he heard a soldier that sounded just like his Lucanis. The accent was missing, though.
Lucanis isn't as great of an actor as Illario: his voice turned too soft, the lilts were much more noticeable. He might not stumble over his words, but he sounded almost uncertain of what's being said.
Like every sentence ends with a question mark and the assassin needs to convince himself, first.
Saar noticed a pattern to the way he speaks, not just in vocabulary but in cadence. It's a very unique set of quirks that makes Lucanis so… himself. The rhythm of his highs and lows are like a song to the Qunari.
His melodious speech is at its most noticeable when he's being romantic. You don't have to understand what he's saying to know what the words convey. His tone of voice and inflections betray the subtlety.
Lucanis has a poet's soul, and it really shows in the heat of passion - it doesn't matter if he's speaking Common or Antivan. It works out pretty well for Saar, too, since when he's getting his brains fucked out he has no idea what his husband's saying either way.
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@dandyboyandy showed me this gifset the other day and it sent me on a journey thinking about the Dellamorte men's hands.
It's safe to assume Illario's hands are smoother by comparison: he likely needs a routine to keep them soft, since his whole thing is touch. His weapons are not what he holds, they're his hands themselves, along with honeyed words and lingering stares.
And while I do think Lucanis's hands are rougher, they're still well-taken care of, because he's a rich boy with a reputation to uphold and who's always wearing gloves out on a job. I mean, he wields knives, daggers or swords like an extension of his body! I bet their hilts are embedded on his palms. It's a sign of the dedication to his craft... so maybe he's proud of it, like they're his battle scars?
Characters: Lucanis Dellamorte, Spite, Rook Laidir (Spiterookcanis) (Rook only appears in fantasies; specific descriptions are due to this being written with @the-muffin-master 's Rook, Saar in mind)
Summary: Left at the Lighthouse for a mandatory break by Rook, every thought seems to return to Rook, and, mind unfiltered by exhaustion, Spite takes advantage to push the imagined scenarios.
Word count: 1,954
Content: Masturbation, kind of? (Technically Spite is controlling an arm but its all the same body, so....)
Extra: This Rook, Saar, in addition to Common, speaks a Thedas equivalent to Portuguese.
If Lucanis thought it was hard to focus before, it was impossible now. As a Crow there was an expectation that one could solve, or kill, the impossible.
But this? The Lighthouse made his eyes itch and throb. Spite, even when he chose to be quiet, which was rare, sat in his mind like a boulder wedged against his brain.
He was slowly but surely getting sleep back with his new partnership with Spite and Rook’s affections….but the amount of time he’d spent over indulging in coffee and forcing himself awake, on top of going out to fight had left him mentally and physically drained.
It would take time to recover from the self destruction he’d put himself through. Longer than he’d prefer. He had a job to do. And…people to protect.
Sometimes he was barely making memories. Maybe whole days were fuzzy. No one had said anything. He hadn’t accidentally stabbed someone he wasn’t supposed to. He wondered if that clarity was Spite carrying him where he faltered…
Today was a Rook assigned down day. He'd already left with Bellara and Davrin.
Lucanis wrote in his logbook, hoping if he scheduled his day it would help him remember it. Sleeping the whole thing through was tempting but the thought of it had him grinding his teeth.
Breakfast.
The funny thing was that despite his hapless state his mind was conjuring more things than less. He supposed it had to do with an inability to filter thoughts. So the word ‘breakfast’ conjured images of food, then Rook, then of Rook making him breakfast.
Maybe he’d be in a real bed and not this cot in the pantry. His bed back in the villa with the silken sheets. Maybe Rook would be there, not at the door with food but in his bed. Maybe he’d feel ravenous but not for food–
He mentally clapped his hands together.
“OoOoh!” Went Spite. “Touch. RoOK.”
Lucanis didn’t need to tell Spite that Rook wasn’t actually there. Now that the demon understood space better, the both of them knew that Spite was teasing him.
Alright. After breakfast would be an opportune time for extended exercise. It wasn’t as though he didn’t get exercise. It was more about stretching and re-familiarizing himself with his body. It was easy to take something's function for granted until it stopped doing what you wanted it to do.
Better to take the time to identify cricks in his back or soreness in his legs so he could work on leveling out the amount of strain he was putting on them.
This conjured images of him stretching, doing handstands on a balancing beam. He was good enough to do full splits with ease. But then most master assassins were.
His mind wandered to Rook again, wondering how flexible he was. The man was a Qunari, his Rook – He paused, a blush blooming across his cheeks. He mentally coughed into his fist. Rook was interesting in regards to what one imagined a Qunari to be.
He was just as towering but thinner. For a Qunari, anyway; he was still wider than, at minimum, one and a half Lucanis’s. But it did give him a sleekness that said speed instead of bulk like most Qunari.
And it was true, the man had a speed that you might not expect. He shook his head to blow away the thoughts like so many dandelion seeds.
But the Rook part stuck. Flexibility was good for anyone to learn…he imagined going through the motions of his typical Crow stretching routines with him. Maybe…Rook wouldn’t get the position quite right. And saying ‘stretch further’ wasn’t helpful advice.
He’d need to go to him and correct it himself, spreading Rook’s legs, hands on his thighs…
His breathing quickened at the thought.
Then he’d have Rook lean forward with his arms out and hands clasped. It worked itself over like dreams would. His position in space snapped him to whatever spot was relevant to the fantasy – he bit his lip, groaning in frustration, wiping at the word. To the imagined scenario.
So now he was behind Rook, his hands back on the Qunari’s thighs. Just to help him keep that good stretch going. And he whispered in Rook’s ear, the same things he always told Rook in the heat of battle but the tone was…different.
“Good job, Rook.” His imagined self purred to the imagined Rook.
His trousers were getting tight.
No, no, no. He needed to get up and do something. A bit of toast, some jam, and a coffee. Perfectly serviceable breakfast. So out of the pantry and into the kitchen he went, bustling around on auto pilot as his thoughts continued to turn. He hated that he couldn’t even blame his previous thoughts on Spite.
“Eat. Rook.”
“No. Rook is out.”
“NO.” Spite ground out. “Rook is. Here.” The ‘here’ sounded slithery, like a snake wrapping around his mind. It drew back the thoughts of Rook in his bed and Rook stretched out across the floor.
Well now it was just a full erection. Wonderful. In the dining room. Lucky for him no one else had bothered coming through to eat yet. He carried his plate and his coffee as he walked quickly back to the pantry.
“Mierda,” He muttered, “Over eager demon.” He stuffed a barrel in front of the door, his toast and coffee sat atop it and wrestled with his pants. Just take care of it. He sat askew on the cot. As though it hadn’t been he himself who’d been doing most of the fantasizing…
Something happened. Not like when Spite took over and pushed him to the back of his mind. This was a touch different. Just one of his hands, Spite’s purple energy wafting off it like steam. When it gripped his cock he bowled over and groaned.
It was both his and not his hand at that moment. Unfamiliar enough.
“Spite..!” He ground out through gritted teeth.
“Rook.” Spite responded smoothly.
Lucanis understood the intention. Right now Spite didn’t want Lucanis thinking about what he was looking to do for the day or even about Spite himself.
Spite wanted to touch him while he fantasized about Rook.
…And unfortunately for Lucanis that very thought ripped a pathetic moan from him. He nodded, closed his eyes, leaned back and…imagined.
Rook in his bed. Not on this cot or on that couch of Rook’s (where did that Qunari even sleep? As though Lucanis had any place to talk, really…) but his large bed back at villa Dellamorte.
Maybe he’d wake to the sheets and blankets askew, Rook’s exposed hip a tease. Squeeze. Spite helpfully interjected. Spite’s word was accompanied by that same action being taken on his cock and Lucanis accidentally bit his tongue. As before the fantasy did a jump and Lucanis’s hand was massaging one of Rook’s lovely breasts.
His Rook, our, stirred, bleary eyed and sweet.
“Meu amor.” Cooed fantasy Rook to him. This qunari was all kinds of impossible. Gigantic with those large curved horns. But sweet as a lamb and at times endearingly shy. If Lucanis was caught unawares Rook could choose to break the assassin in twain.
But, as with Spite, he had found trust to extend. He knew what Rook was capable of and he also knew that Rook would never hurt him.
He was jumped out of such saccharine musings by a twist of his cock by Spite that made him gasp. Seems a certain demon wanted him to get back on track….
His mind returned to his and Rook’s stretching in an endless white room. The backdrop didn’t matter all that much. Rook wasn’t…wearing a damn thing this time though. And he was sweaty with exertion from whatever pretend exercise Lucanis’s mind had run him through.
A shift and his arms were loosely looped over Rook’s hips. He leaned forward while Rook was sitting back, arms out behind him to keep from flopping to the floor.
Lucanis licked the sweat from Rook’s skin, brushing over his breasts; it made Rook shiver.
This wasn’t Lucanis’s usual go-to start but this…he sighed. Fantasy had now become a joint effort between Spite and himself. Which meant that, seemingly, Spite’s inclinations rippled across the scenarios and influenced him.
Not that Lucanis was put off by it. Rook’s breathing was shallow, quick and his back arched. Lucanis suckled on a breast and growled in satisfaction at Rook’s needy noises.
Lucanis was dwarfed by this man and yet, with clever hand and tongue the mountain was chiseled to a hill. Pliant. There was satisfaction in that.
Another shift – Rook was on his back. The fantasy had brushed past all the preamble and preparation that actual sex required and had him pressed deep into Rook’s pussy. If Lucanis weren’t overcome by his lust he might be concerned by how good Spite was at giving a hand job.
Did it have to do with feelings? Was Spite watching these fantasies too, stroking just so to match whatever ‘scene’ Lucanis was in? ‘An opera in a brothel’, Lucanis mused.
Of course Rook felt just right. But there was a sort of numbness in fantasy. A baseline of imagined pleasure that couldn’t be brought up or down. It just, was. He wondered how Rook would truly feel. To have his fingers in the man’s muscled thighs as he thrust…
He choked on his own saliva, forcing his tongue back before he could bite it again. Spite was speeding up. And then, the touch was gone – He opened his eyes to find his own hand trying to shove itself in his mouth.
No thought was voiced in his mind, only the visualization of slick, wet fingers caressing his cock. That was more than enough to get him to open wide and suck.
It really should have felt strange to suck his own fingers like that. But it didn’t. It felt like someone else’s. And he supposed in a way they were.
Fingers slick enough by Spite’s standards, he drew the hand away.
Lucanis was going to burn with embarrassment later when he remembered how he leaned forward to chase those fingers with his mouth.
Eyes closed. Position readjusted for comfort. Spite knew just when to start, as the fantasy resumed with him thrusting into Rook. His pussy soft, his legs strong and muscled.
“Rook,” His fantasy self called out, breathless. Lucanis was hot, sweating through his clothes.
And maybe. Maybe? Maybe Rook would...maybe he would say…
“Lucanis.” The sound was sweet, syrupy, and needy. Unfortunately that was all the dialogue Lucanis could dream up. He wasn’t a writer.
That was alright. There was...feeling. He held one of Rook’s hands. His mind converted sounds he hadn’t even known he’d cataloged into perfectly edited in moans and groans for Rook.
He could only hope his first thought back into battle beside the Qunari wasn’t….all this the next he heard Rook’s grunts of excursion.
“Mierda…!” He could barely breath, the drop off was just a moment, a singular moment away --
He imagined how beautiful Rook would look cumming, overtaken and breathless. Sweat soaked and glistening. He’d look up at Lucanis and smile. The open smile that spoke his joy fearlessly, his eyes soft and sparkling.
His free hand was slapped over his mouth to muffle him as he came.
“Maker….” He breathed out. Spite rumbled. Or purred? In his mind. This did not sound like laughter at his expense; more like the sound of a contented cat.
I've been replaying Veilguard and it's so interesting to note how, during the time we're still in the Ossuary, Lucanis avoids using Spite's name for the majority of the dialogue: it's always <he / him / we> or "the demon".
And saying stuff like "[sighs] he says he can help" often prompts Rook to ask "who's he?", which is always met with "the demon". It's unhelpful and vague, but it feels very intentional. He's trying to distance himself from Spite. There's a couple of reasons why I see him doing it 🤔💭
To separate himself from Spite down to the existential sense. He's afraid of losing his true self in the corruption, a sentiment that reminds me of that note we find in one of the cells with a "failed experiment":
The act of giving something a name kind of humanizes it, which could be a problem. First of all, he doesn't want to get emotionally attached to Spite, since he wants to find a way to separate them. But the fact of the matter is Lucanis already emphatizes with the spirit.
Talking to him after Spite's "tantrum" proves as much - he says no-one ended up in the Ossuary willingly, not even the demons. You can tell he's conflicted between wanting to get rid of Spite and not wanting to think about it too deeply, because if he does, he might change his mind.
Isn't that why one of the rules in a Nuzlocke is to name everything you catch? Isn't that why sometimes people won't acknowledge what their relationship to each other is? Without a name, it's easier to let it go. Not to mention he can't be caught suddenly ~caring~ about Spite when the other companions (except Emmrich) are still freaked out by him.
So, instead of calling him by name, Lucanis is trying to establish that he's on the same level as his rescuers about this whole "demon" thing. If he started treating Spite like a person, suddenly there'd be doubt about how far along the possession is. Lucanis doesn't need us to find him to be more of an "abomination" than he already is.
I haven't ever chosen Minrathous and I don't think I'd be able to, but I wonder if there's a clear difference in treatment from Lucanis's end...
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A Copa do Mundo da FIFA 2026 começa HOJE, e pra comemorar:
BEASTIEBALL JÁ ESTÁ DISPONÍVEL EM PORTUGUÊS BRASILEIRO! ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜
(Sim, é um jogo de vôlei e não futebol. E nem são os humanos que praticam esportes. Mas sei lá... vai que é isso que a gente precisa pra finalmente trazer o Hexa pra casa?)
This lovely image was made by one of my best friends, @ink-cartoon
A couple of months ago, I had a conversation with @dandyboyandy about what Spite would buy if you left him unattended at the market. I mean, other than ingredients that smell nice (with no regards to if Lucanis can make a single, coherent dish out of all that random crap).
I asked if he thought Spite would buy seemingly "useless" things from pawn shops, because they used to be sentimental objects so they're imbued with a vast array of energy and feeling. To a random buyer, it might just look like a shitty pottery vase no-one else wanted, but to a spirit? There's potential for so much history there.
Something else he'd get: those clay "plates" made in school where a kid puts their hand in it for the imprint (then usually has their name and age in it). @dandyboyandy mentioned "he'd definitely buy those things, and try to fit even his pinky in the hand imprint" which is so cute to me...
Spite would also buy things that are clearly PERSONALIZED gifts that found their way to thrift stores (and if those don't exist in Thedas, just pretend it's set in a modern AU). Lucanis would later be looking through their wardrobe just thinking "where did we get all these knit sweaters with other people's names on them ∘ ∘ ∘ ( °ヮ° ) ?"
Characters: Rook [Saar] Laidir, Lucanis Dellamorte, Spite Dellamorte, Isabela (mentioned)
Pairing: Spite/Rook/Lucanis (Spiterookanis)
Word count: 1135 words
Content warnings: suggestive imagery, brief mention of sex toys
This is a companion piece to @dandyboyandy's "That which can't be trained for" (check it out here), but can be read as a standalone fic!
For a Lord of Fortune, Saar lacked the experience most would expect from members of his faction.
It wasn't due to innocence or disinterest. He wasn't sheltered - Isabela had practically raised him, and while she wasn't about to expose a teenager to her dalliances, she was the last person to forbid Saar from going out and experimenting on his own.
The other Lords were happy to provide him with answers too. Luckily, there was always a Qunari on board, and Saar learned many biological facts about himself he wouldn't have learned otherwise. He was thankful to have grown in such a welcoming (and at times shameless) environment.
Saar wanted to put his knowledge to the test eventually, but... he didn't care for one-night stands. And an actual relationship was out of the question. There was so much emotional baggage to work through before he was in a good place for that.
Instead, he started his treasure hoard. It was, perhaps with good reason, unconventional to keep a collection of sex toys. It raised some eyebrows when matters of hygiene came up. Saar's contacts would always include instructions of use and cleaning methods, though, and they hadn't failed him yet.
To summarize: he wasn't an experienced lover, but he wasn't oblivious either. Saar knew exactly what he liked, he just never had a partner to try them with. Until now. Now, he had two partners, and a lot of pent-up energy buzzing just under the surface.
Saar was afraid this overeagerness could scare Lucanis off. The Qunari really didn't want to ruin whatever was blossoming between them. He still couldn't believe someone like Lucanis would want to kiss him, or that spirits were even able to develop romantic interest.
Spite had been more adventurous from the jump. He got handsy when they made out and enjoyed leaving behind marks. When Saar noticed Spite's interest in his chest, he gently guided a hand to cup one of his breasts. The spirit's wicked grin stretched Lucanis’s features in an uncanny way as he gave it a test squeeze, marveling at how different their bodies were.
But in matters of biting, human teeth weren't efficient enough for Spite, so he'd convinced Lucanis to let him try growing fangs. A temporary change to the body that would be gone by the time they switched back. That's how he sold Lucanis on trying out claws, too.
Sadly, these enhancements would leave the body sore for days, which meant Spite made up for the inefficiency with enthusiasm. He was a stranger to feeling shame: Spite didn't hold back any noises and Saar could often feel saliva dripping down his collarbone to the valley of his breasts.
Saar was happy to match his energy. Spite lit up when he felt sharp teeth hovering over his pulse, overcome with shivers of both anticipation and impatience. He'd growl if the Qunari took too long, furiously bouncing on his heels, and it was the closest to what Lucanis would call a 'tantrum' these days.
It made Saar wonder if this was a shared sentiment between his boyfriends. He once asked Emmrich if everything Spite felt was merely a reflection of how Lucanis felt towards him and, therefore, didn't mean the spirit was actually in love with him. Emmrich reassured him that their union might've been unconventional, but they were still separate beings.
The two shared a mind, but Spite was still himself, and his feelings were very much his own. This sealed Emmrich's fate as a personal relationship coach since, the next time they spoke, Saar asked him if it was okay to kiss a spirit.
But Lucanis's senses did influence Spite. The impulse to eat things he shouldn't or describe things in twos, to smell your surroundings like a bloodhound. There was a nuance to how they shaped each other's worldview that was still beyond even their comprehension.
The only difference came in how they externalized it. Lucanis learned from a young age that drinking vanilla extract wasn't advised, despite how nice it smelled. Spite, on the other hand, was impulsive and acted purely on instinct. He was still learning about what wasn't safe for consumption. The intermingling of their experiences only endeared Saar further to both.
When Lucanis pulled him aside to talk, he was worried about them breaking up. Had he been too pushy, despite his best efforts? Did Lucanis regret consenting to letting Spite roam free? Perhaps it bothered him that the marks on his body were left for someone else.
It turned out the assassin was… jealous. He wasn't being possessive - it wasn't that he had qualms about ‘sharing’ his partners with each other. Rather, this felt remarkably similar to the time he was jealous about Spite getting chin scratches and pats on the head. Lucanis wasn't against Saar doing it, he just wanted in on the fun.
"Lucanis. wANTS pet. LIKE, THE CAT?" had been Spite's response back then. He wondered what would be the reaction this time that he was asking Saar for permission to bite. Not just bite, either. Lucanis wanted to mark him like Spite did, testing the leathery skin with his teeth.
He knew Qunari bodies were more resistant than the average human's. It would be harder to mark Saar than the other way around. But the phantom sensations he got from memories of Spite ravishing Saar's neck had him grinding his molars, searching in vain for a target that wasn't there.
Saar noticed his hesitation in bringing it up and offered to mark him first. He was happy to initiate most of their encounters, including their first kiss. It was clear Lucanis was proficient at giving but had trouble claiming things for himself, partially out of fear of losing them, but also due to shame. The expectation that he must be perfect.
Once Saar deemed the expanse between Lucanis's neck and shoulder had been sufficiently decorated, making sure to stick to the spots that would get covered up by the armor, he sat back to appreciate his work. Even without looking up, he could tell the assassin was visibly less nervous.
He saw the exact moment the fog in Lucanis's gaze parted before springing into action. Saar got light-headed just thinking about it. When he looked himself in the mirror the next day, his first instinct was to press down on the bite marks, almost as if to check if they were real.
They were very real, as a matter of fact, and the dark blemishes adorned his collarbones like tattoos. A shiver ran down Saar's spine when he realized his outfit, be it for the mission or the Lighthouse, would not cover an inch of this. It was… thrilling.
He doesn't think twice about who he's bringing along for the next quest.
Characters: Lucanis Dellamorte, Spite, Rook Laidir (Spiterookcanis) (When writing, @the-muffin-master 's Rook, Saar was the specific one in mind)
Summary: Out on a mission Lucanis mulls over the hickeys he received the night before (And he flies free with love in his heart).
Word count: 1,729
Assumptions were made. Rallying leaders, competent and deadly warriors. There’s something to be said about the confidence that that exudes.
But anyone within the inner circle of Rook and his ragtag team would know that Rook and the Demon of Vyrantium were both…hopeless. Love struck and obvious.
Arlathan forest. Rook, Lucanis and Bellara. Lucanis wasn’t sure he was the best one to bring here, specifically; wasn’t Davrin a hunter? A forest was a perfect spot for it. Then there was Assan of course. And hadn’t he heard Davrin mention something about his fellow Dalish here?
A little nagging feeling said he should bring it up, but when he went to open his mouth Spite had quibbled,
“Rook! Ours.”
A thrill ran down Lucanis’s spine and his head swam with pride that despite not being specialized in the area like Bellara was, that Rook time and time again tended to take Lucanis with.
Just because they were in a relationship didn’t mean he expected anything. He didn’t really have a basis for what to expect if he was perfectly honest.
So off the three went. He wasn’t completely useless – plenty of demons popped out of the forest. He could handle them while Rook and Bellara dealt with the magical elements.
Whatever treasure was behind the magical seal must be good if whoever was here – ancient Elves? – had sealed it behind three or four separate laser contraptions across the forest.
He and Rook were still working things out, though there was some comfort in being of similar experience levels. Pressure was taken off because of it.
Lucanis’s life was dedication and study to the family craft; assassination. And so, there was something…truly, purely freeing when he or Rook made a perceived blunder and ended up giggling and smiling over it.
He’d been taught the art of seduction. It was the sort of dance that he’d never mastered. Two left feet. But in privacy with Rook the expectation to be this way or that melted away and he was allowed to learn in a way he’d never been allowed to before; softly.
He leaned against a tree, his breath quivering at a memory. He side-eyed where Rook and Bellara were – still puzzling over things. Good.
One hand, two gloved fingers specifically, wandered up his neck, pressing under his collar to brush at his bruises, hickeys. From the outside maybe he looked as though he were checking his pulse. Which…strange. But fine.
Except for the amount of times he kept doing it. Each time he seemed distracted, not paying attention to the fact that he was doing it.
Lucanis’s gaze was hazy; he was looking off into the trees but it was obvious he was in his mind.
Rook had been figuring out how much was too much. Qunari were large in every respect and their teeth were no exception. He’d drawn back, brows furrowed with worry when he’d punctured Lucanis’s neck and drew blood.
Needless to say that in the moment, most of Lucanis’s blood had been down south (though they hadn’t gotten that far in the end).
Lucanis's neck had came out the other end a battlefield. And it hadn't gone unnoticed by his local demon, who decided to spend his precious free time pressing upon the hickeys for that delightful pleasure pain.
Lucanis had given Spite a scolding when time had marched forward and suddenly he was handed back the body with a raging boner and five minutes to mission.
He'd gotten it taken care of, as a professional does, but it had been tight.
And now here he was, grazing over the hickeys while out on mission. Perhaps he'd need to apologize to Spite, later....
There, a rustling. Even distracted, Lucanis’s body was coiled like a snake, ready to strike. The noise was subtle but there – and he was grabbed from behind. On instinct he kicked and got Rook’s voice in return.
“Ow, haha.” Rook's voice was easy, friendly and light. The fight left Lucanis immediately and he turned his head as far as he could in his position to look at Rook.
“Sorry.”
“Maybe sneaking up on an assassin wasn’t the best idea, huh?”
“Probably not, Rook.” He chuckled but didn’t try to get out of Rook’s arms. Lucanis looked around.
“Bellara’s up ahead.” Rook had seen the question in his gaze.
“Why are you back here?”
“Maybe because you’re back here. How's an assassin get so distracted~?” There was a smile in Rook’s voice. Even without seeing him fully Lucanis could imagine it in his mind’s eye.
"I..." He knew Rook was teasing him, so apologizing didn't make sense. But he couldn't conjure up the correct flirty banter.
Rook came in with the rescue.
"How pretty...where'd you get 'em?"
Before Lucanis could ask 'Get what', a breathy moan was pushed out of him; one of Rook’s hands had wandered away from his hips to curl under his collar to the bruises.
"You know well where I got them." Lucanis's tone was warm.
Rook’s hand kneaded gently against his hip. Lucanis bore a lot of restraint not to go with the natural rhythm of it and move. This wasn’t the time, they were out in a forest.
“Was it alright that I had you come? I realize I’ve been having you on all the missions lately. I should have checked in.”
Oh, Rook. That was something that made Rook a great leader instead of just a good one. Acknowledgement of what he could change, implementation of those things.
“LUCANIS. And SPITE. Are Rook’s. FAVORITES!” Spite bellowed in his mind. Lucanis could feel the rumble of Rook’s laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“Spite…that’s sweet. He’s right, you know…” There was a soft vulnerability to the words.
“Oh.” Chirped Lucanis. He forgot sometimes that Rook could hear Spite now.
A beat of silence.
“UM!” There was a nervous sort of fluttering sound in Rook’s voice. It was adorable, really. He was gigantic but could still sound so small.
“Well, I mean that’s uh,”
Lucanis took this moment to turn around in Rook’s arms so he could face the Qunari.
“I think you must be my favorite, too.” Lucanis’s voice was quiet, rich and deep. Just for Rook. Rook stared at him for a beat, his cheekbones coloring. Then, the Qunari lunged forward, bending over to embrace Lucanis, hiding his face in the assassin’s neck.
Right in the middle of all the hickeys. Lucanis gasped and looped his arms around Rook in return, finger tips digging into his shoulders just a touch.
“Sorry, did I – does it hurt?”
“No, hah, it doesn’t hurt.” Lucanis’s voice was breathy.
“It's…alright then?”
Lucanis huffed a laugh. Maker, he adored Rook. “Yes, it's alright, Rook.”
With that explicit permission given, Rook nuzzled his nose against the crux of Lucanis’s shoulder and neck along the bite marks. Each time his breath ghosted across one or his nose nudged a bruise, Lucanis’s fingers flexed against Rook’s shoulders and his breath would hitch, near imperceptibly if Rook weren’t so close.
I love you.
The phrase bed itself in Lucanis’s mind. He squeezed Rook. He didn’t know how to say it out loud for real, not yet.
“Fly!”
The non sequitur made Lucanis’s mind halt in confusion.
“Pphhff, oh. The other night when you fell asleep, Spite and I got to talking.I told him that even with his wings, you probably couldn’t take me flying. But I told him that I could throw you high enough you felt like you were. Or, him. Both.”
Lucanis drew a hand back to hover over his mouth as he chuckled. Not that he really hid his smile at all.
“Fly. Rook, fLY!!”
It wasn’t as though Spite couldn’t speak fuller sentences, especially now that Rook had an inside listen to him even without his speaking through Lucanis. But it was just his way, the short, clipped sentences. Who needs a hundred words when your point is across in three?
“What do you say, Lucanis? Alright if I send you two flying?”
Rook’s soft eyes made his heart beat fast.
“Alright. But then we’ve got to get back to Bellara.”
Ever the professional. Rook grinned, crouched and hauled Lucanis up in his arms, princess style, as though he weighed nothing at all. Lucanis floundered, then cleared his throat as though that would make the flailing he’d just done disappear.
Rook said nothing, though the glint in his eye and the curve of his smile showed he wasn’t forgetting it. They were only a few paces from a clearing so that Rook wouldn’t throw Lucanis straight into a tree.
“Ready?”
Lucanis took a breath. He’d been practicing letting Spite in half way, a sort of meditation that Rook had been helping him perfect. A way to allow Spite to feel more of the bodily sensations without either of them missing things.
“Ready.”
Lucanis and Spite’s voices overlapped, mixed and melded. Rook counted to himself softly, one, two, he crouched and then: three –
Lucanis was in the air. Spite was in the air.
Lucanis, as all Crow children were, was taught acrobatics as a simple basis for future teaching. They had zip lines installed all across the city. Even before Spite had granted him literal wings he wouldn’t say he was unfamiliar with flying.
But Maker, this was something else.
Uncoordinated, completely free of expectations on his part. Rook threw them and Rook would catch them. There was no doubt in his mind. And his only job in this moment? Enjoy it. Feel it. Funnily, it was Spite who helped him key into the moment.
“HA HAH, FLYING!!!”
Lucanis was laughing too; Spite’s laughter was deep and rough. If you didn’t know him he’d sound downright villainous. Lucanis’s was open and airy, relief manifest. Their stomach twisted, anticipation, fear, elation, freedom.
Back down in Rook’s arms. Back up into the air.
Had Lucanis ever felt like this? But when he tried to begin filing through the memories, he was cut short, pulled back into the here and now by Spite.
“OURS. OURS, OURS!!!”
Spite bellowed into the sky, still laughing. Lucanis laughed more. Then safe in Rook’s arms. He curled in against Rook’s chest like a contented cat. That big, soft Qunari drew his fingers through Lucanis’s hair.
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I KEEP FORGETTING TO SHARE THIS, but one of my favorite things to come out of my tomodachi experience happened in the very beginning, when I got the "I need to clear my head" minigame for the first time. you can tell how old this screenshot is because of how lucanis's mii is still in the early stages of development. BUT ANYWAY, I HELPED HIM, AND...
