Vishanti

📸 DATV PHOTO WEEK | PLACE | COLOR

Taggin' pals below to share! Hope you're having a good start to the week so far y'all 💕🫶

@onelooseskull @serialsforbellara @davrinsleftpectoral @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @hedwigoprah @guacamolleee @introvertedfangrl @vishantikaffar @redaresss @sunny374940 @sorcerousadventurer @necromanticsoul @brightbreezeblog @casa-dei-corvei @lycheecatee @handsignals @wolfmoonwildflowers @sandcastlekings @notyourmamasdeerbat @curiouswisp @quaksi @trashwithvariety @trash-nerd @dudewheresmynug @rooks-dagger @grand-crow @tevivinter @zennihilation @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai @kogarashi-art @pinkvbay @chaosherald @reaver-of-kirkwall @in-the-drowning-deep @ass-deep-in-demons @bronzieinthedas @winterhartarts @viagosbrother @oddsaint22 @wickedadaar @lemondelighted @woundedsoul12 @veilguardingonmain @andthekitchensinkao3 @nyx-de-riva @tarasmom

Behind him, Lucanis could hear Illario's breathing as they both listened, but not much else. Neither boy made noise as they moved, feet as silent on carpet as they were on stone, wood, straw or dirt. Caterina had made it very clear as the both started their training that anything above silence was a failure which would have a reckoning, the consequences written clearly in her eyes. The woman who looked at them then was not their grandmother. Nonna. That word was couldn't contain even a fraction of what she was here to every other person in this room.

Talon. First Talon. A woman who held death in her hands like coin. 

Tonight she would give generously.

"That one looks too like his mother. Too sharp by half. It's in the eyes." "As long as he isn't like his demon grandmother—" "Hush, Nero. They're both weapons, just like you or I." "Speak for yourself, Valisti."

Lucanis slowed almost before Caterina stopped, his outstretched hand behind him lightly touching Illario's chest to stop his cousin just as she halted. The audience around them stilled where they stood, conversation dying out like the snuff of a candle leaving only the slightest acrid taste of smoke behind. Caterina's grip tightened on her cane as her eyes swept over the assembled Crows, lighting on one particular man with the crest of House Nero stitched into the leathers at his chest, stretched into a stylized crow feather pattern that ran up and over onto his back.

Caterina's eyes flashed as her hands moved with sudden precision. The cane whipped forward so quickly that it was only easily visible as the tip struck the man in the center of his throat. Aimed true, it slipped effortlessly by the guard and leather at his neck, hitting soft flesh with a sharp slap. It was withdrawn just as quickly as the man collapsed, choking and retching as he clawed at his neck.

The wake of silence rippled behind her as Caterina turned to move again, Lucanis and Illario at her side like sharpened daggers as she ascended the stage. Six other Talons regarded her warily as the last seat nearest hers remained conspicuously empty. A brief flutter of nerves ran through his stomach as Lucanis stepped forward to hand his grandmother a large, opal ring. 

"It was a present from your Nonna, Luca," his father had patted his head every time he had asked about the ring on his mother's hand, sized to fit over her gloves she wore when working. Each retelling of how she had earned the ring had grown more daring, bloody, and fanciful.  He had held it in his fist that night, unwilling to let that piece of her go, even as he ran and hid from the knives that had chased him in the dark. Daring and bloody. And unsuccessful. Dropped in desperation, only recovered as proof of his mother's death.

"It has been said that I am too told to lead. That I am a demon among Crows. That my family should give way to one more worthy."

Caterina tossed the words into the audience to see who would take them, spend them. None rose to the challenge. She put the ring on the middle finger of her left hand, and reached down with her right as Illario lifted a dagger into her hand with precision. She held it up briefly, and slid it into a waiting scabbard at her side.

"Whose is it?" Lucanis had asked Illario when he took the dagger out of its hiding place in a pile of fabric. He had admired the clean lines of the pommel and blade, so much smoother and unembellished than the ornate weapons he had seen his mother wearing. "My father's," Illario had said quietly after a long pause. He had always been the more talkative of his cousins, but he hadn't said very much after they had joined Caterina at the Villa. "Abue— Caterina gave it to him when he wasn't a Crow anymore. But still a Dellamorte."

"It took three days for a lesser House to try and put mine to rest," Caterina's eyes swept the room, so silent Lucanis wondered if anyone still breathed. It was impossible to see past the footlights which burned bright enough to cast their own shadows into hers onto the backdrop.

"It took me less than one day to burn their own House to ashes and leave nothing of them for anyone to remember aside my own name as their executioner," she rested her hand on the dagger at her side and gave a quirk of her mouth that should have been a smile. "This is what waits for any who cannot complete their contracts. You know this."

"A Crow always completes their contracts," one of the Talons strode forward to stand just back from her side, the silver in his hair a highlight and reminder that his age was not much less than Caterina's. He was joined one by one on either side by the remaining five, flanking her evenly like wings. "And the Crows always have eight Talons. What is your will?"

Lucanis was already handing Caterina the envelope that had been concealed in the front pocket of his leathers when she stretched her hand to take it. In the bright light of the state, he and Illario matched, fledglings in baby feathers of no distinction aside the Dellamorte family crest marked in silver and gold on their shoulders and chest. The design was carried onto the parchment Caterina unfolded.

"Arainai," she handed the paper to Emil Kortez, who Lucanis finally recognized now that he could see his eyes under the stylized metallic mask that he wore. He had been one of the Crows who had delivered him to Caterina. He wore the mask of studied friendliness that night in place of the silver. Lucanis preferred him tonight, sharp edges and promised violence.

A murmur went up among the Talons and crowd, but Lucanis could hear more agreement than confusion or questioning. He risked a quick flick of his eyes towards Illario, and could see he felt the same way as their eyes met. They both looked up as Caterina placed a hand on each of their shoulders, then out to the side of the stage where the current head of House Arainai ascended to join their fellow Talons.

"Good," Caterina nodded to them as they took their place, and then the audience as goblets were handed around to each Talon behind her. Her own glass was delivered by Emil himself. "To the Eighth Talon and the Crows. May we never bend a knee to crown or conqueror."

"The Crows Rule Antiva!"

The room erupted in a cheer, and after Caterina had taken a long drink from her cup, she looked down at Lucanis and Illario with a look of satisfaction. Passing the goblet off to a Crow Lucanis did not recognize, she swept both boys into her shadow once again to exit the stage. Both trailed behind, silent, waiting and following until the next chance for them to prove they could be of use.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━━━━━⊱ | ⊰━━━━━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Tags are always no pressure, check this fun thing out, with no expectation of response ❤️

@serensama, @woundedsoul12, @davrinsleftpectoral, @blackwall-my-tiny-husband, @serialsforbellara, @notyourmamasdeerbat, @strugglinggranola, @aetherflowers, @necromanticsoul, @jukkaricity, @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai, @elishnord, @pixiedurango, @aiyestel, @tkwritesdumbassassins, @sandcastlekings, @sorcerousadventurer, @the-font-bandit, @tarasmom, @talkmagically, @potatofantiger, @redheadsramblings, @viagosbrother, @chaosherald, @iicaru2, @handsignals, @wickedadaar, @kogarashi-art, @vishantikaffar, @mushrooms-x-moss, @nyx-de-riva, @redaresss

Leonidas is sitting at the bar in Treviso, watching Zael down shot after shot like it's his professional calling.

"Bad day?" He asks, one delicate red brow arched in question. Z grumbles something in Antivan under his breath and then sighs.

"Bad week, more like." The elf snips, his deep frown making the scar on his upper lip stand out all the more.

Leon doesn't bother replying, knowing Zael well enough by now to know that he's not expecting one. The qunari has no idea what he's doing here, honestly. Z had asked him to come, sure. But why? They're both dating Davrin, but what they are to each other is pretty open to interpretation. Leon leans back on his stool and crosses his arms, scanning the room like it will give him the answers he seeks.

His gaze lands on two elves sitting in a booth across the room. One is dark and brooding, the other has an air of confidence about them, a local if he's ever seen one. As he watches, the local looks their way, looks away, then does a double-take and squints suspiciously right at Zael. Uh-oh. Leonidas taps his companion on the arm and jerks his head in the direction of their admirer.

"Do you know them?" He asks from the corner of his mouth, lips barely moving. Z looks up and then scoffs loudly.

"Sí. They're a de Riva, too. We have…history." The way he says "history" makes the redhead twitch. Leon knows exactly how spectacularly bad most of Zael's past relationships have been.

"Should we leave? The last thing I—er you need is more trouble."

"No? They won't make a scene. We've been there, done that." The elf makes a dismissive gesture and waves the bartender over for a refill.

"Lucas, don't!" Rings out from behind them, and no sooner has Z turned around on his stool when a bottle of what turns out to be beer shatters over his head.

Leon leaps quickly out of range of both the spatter and the broken glass, no need to ruin his outfit for something so trivial. When he returns his gaze to Zael, it's certainly a sight to behold. The elf's chocolate brown hair is absolutely sopping wet and drooping down over his eyes. His shoulders are rigid, trembling hands clenched into fists at his sides. The qunari hears someone hurry over to the side of the bottle assailant, but he's too focused on keeping his eye on the timebomb in front of him to pay attention to what's being said.

Zael's lips are slowly pulling back from his teeth in the beginnings of a snarl, and his hair (along with the hair of everyone in the immediate vicinity) is beginning to stand on end from the energy building in his hands. Fuck. Leonidas is painfully familiar with that particular expression. Literally. He starts backing up. Call him a coward all you want, but he's reached this month's quota for being electrocuted, thank you very much.

The other Crow from earlier jumps backwards just in time for their companion (So that's who was wielding the beer bottle!) to be struck and wrestled to the ground by an elf-shaped projectile wreathed in crackling electricity. They edge over next to Leon, and the both of them stand in dazed silence while they watch the brawl unfolding before them.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━━━━━⊱ | ⊰━━━━━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Tags are always no pressure, check this fun thing out, with no expectation of response ❤️

@serensama, @woundedsoul12, @davrinsleftpectoral, @blackwall-my-tiny-husband, @serialsforbellara, @notyourmamasdeerbat, @strugglinggranola, @aetherflowers, @necromanticsoul, @jukkaricity, @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai, @elishnord, @pixiedurango, @aiyestel, @tkwritesdumbassassins, @sandcastlekings, @sorcerousadventurer, @the-font-bandit, @tarasmom, @talkmagically, @potatofantiger, @redheadsramblings, @viagosbrother, @chaosherald, @iicaru2, @handsignals, @wickedadaar, @kogarashi-art, @vishantikaffar, @mushrooms-x-moss, @nyx-de-riva, @redaresss