Chapter Text
Lucanis put away the quill and sighed slightly. He pressed his palms against his closed eyes and the next sigh was a bigger one. He was tired. Oh, so very tired.
But he had managed to finish the correspondence with his grandmother. He always avoided replying to her letters for as long as possible. Since she gave him the title of First Talon while still being alive (unheard of), she wrote to him so often that he considered that maybe she was not his grandmother anymore but a blood magic decoy. She had never been so interested in him before. His education and crow training? Yes. She’d been very thorough with that.
Interest in his personal life? Not so much.
He could only guess (and his guesses were correct most of the time) that she was offended that he just… accepted the honor of the title and then vanished again. Maybe once upon a time, he had been interested in having this rank but so much had changed since then.
The abduction, the Ossuary, Spite…literal old Gods who were just old assholes, really…Illario.
(It hurt.)
All his life he’d been trained to be a good Crow, the best of them all. Contracts had to be fulfilled and if they didn’t, it better be because you’re dead. And even in that case, you should try to fulfill it. What else are necromancers for?
Necromancers.
Lucanis looked up from his palms and into the soft flame of one of the candles on the kitchen table. It hurt because he was already tired, but he didn’t look away.
EMMRICH. Where.
“In the Necropolis I presume,” Lucanis muttered. Or did he think it? He couldn’t really differentiate it anymore. It just happened naturally. The communication between them had become so much better. It had been a long and difficult path. And they weren’t done yet.
Lucanis shuddered.
Need EMMRICH. Question. Need. Curiosity.
“Mierda, you ought to leave Emmrich alone,” Lucanis said, annoyed. “He doesn’t have the time to indulge in all of your…whatever you keep pestering him about.”
Spite sulked.
And so did Lucanis. Even though he’d never admit that.
He knew that Emmrich could hear Spite, and the mage was talking to Spite often enough. But during most occasions, Lucanis did not not know what they were talking about. And it felt so unfair. How was it fair that Spite could listen to every single one of his thoughts, could speak through his mouth without Lucanis being able to stop him? How was he not allowed to have secrets, but Spite could just exclude him from his little talks with Emmrich?
It was maddening.
Emmrich included Lucanis every now and then but there were times when Lucanis heard the one-sided conversation, and the mage simply forgot to tell Lucanis because the talk with Spite was oh so fascinating.
In the beginning, Lucanis had asked Spite what they were talking about but the dem — spirit simply ignored him. Apparently, he had a right to privacy.
Lucanis suddenly could feel excitement which wasn’t his.
His assassin training gave him a warning of one second, hearing footsteps, before the door to the kitchen was opened. He knew it would be Emmrich. Whether it was because Spite perked up or because Lucanis could tell his little group of temporary teammates apart by their walking style, he didn’t know.
He could tell them all apart by their steps. Force of Habit. He’d listened and memorized all their steps and just the sounds they made without noticing.
He even could hear Rook even though she was a Crow too. Maybe she just didn’t care about it when she was not working but for Lucanis it was ingrained in mind and flesh since he was a small boy. Maybe all the teasing from Viago was correct though and she just wasn’t the best of them. She wasn’t a Talon either.
Bellara just had the steps of an adventurer. Purposeful but also careful at the same time. Stopping often to just look and discover, appreciate the sight.
Davrin walked like a man who was used to heavy armor but also had heavy steps without their armor on. Also, the excited screech of Assan was a pretty good sign who was approaching.
Taash was just loud. And they wanted to be loud. They never hid; they went everywhere full force. There was no surprise, no plan of attack. The plan was attack.
And Neve’s steps, well. You could hear the beautiful golden snake.
It had been Harding who always had managed to surprise him by seemingly materializing out of thin air.
And Emmrich? He had this graceful step, light leg work. His right foot sounded a bit harder on the floor when he had his staff with him.
The door opened with a creaking sound and Lucanis looked at it.
Emmrich looked tired as he stepped through the door, and when he set eyes on Lucanis, he seemed to be startled that someone was here.
The lighthouse didn’t have a night and day cycle but with the help of the Caretaker, they all had been able to find a somewhat regular day and night rhythm. It had been Rook and Emmrich who had asked the Caretaker what could be done to resemble cycles. And now, the spirit’s voice spoke gently to everyone in the lighthouse after a certain time. Every six hours, the spirit was audible to everyone currently residing there.
A while ago he’d told Lucanis in the kitchen It is now what is being called ‘midnight’ in Thedas. A long while ago.
“Lucanis,” Emmrich said, smiling at him. It was a tired smile.
Nevertheless, it made something in Luccanis’ chest clench. Spite was unruly again, wasn’t he?
“Emmrich,” he greeted him and watched Emmrich take off his elegant coat. It was a maroon color this time. Not even Illario had such a grand variation of clothes as Emmrich had. Maybe it was the Orlesian influence, from the time he was with the art appraiser. Decades ago.
Or maybe it was just his style. His personality. He did mention once that he liked to have a bit of luxury after a simple childhood under the care of his parents.
And why did Lucanis even care?
His gaze was following the movement of Emmrich’s arms when the tall man carefully put the coat over his arm. The lighthouse had a constant pleasant temperature. For Lucanis, being used to warm or hot weather all around, it was still a bit chilly most of the time. Emmrich though…the Necropolis was cold. And didn’t he have an apartment there somewhere? It must be pleasantly warm for him here in the Fade.
The bangles of his left arm were glinting in the dying light of the candles.
Lucanis wasn’t fond of jewelry. It was in the way of his work. Better not have too much on himself while trying to kill someone. What if he lost some ring? What if a victim grabbed a necklace and it was found in their dead, cold hands?
The silver crow on his collar was more than enough.
Emmrich could never do a subtle kill. He’d be heard from far away because of all the soft jingling sounds of his jewelry. But if he wanted to kill someone, he needn’t to get close anyway, did he? He was a mage. A powerful mage. Just like the ones Lucanis usually killed. Maybe even stronger. No, he was definitely stronger.
Lucanis had witnessed it during many occasions when Rook had taken him and Emmrich on missions together.
“I thought you were in the Necropolis?” Lucanis asked him, hating that he even did. He shouldn’t care.
They weren’t all friends, were they? Everyone was friendly with Rook and they had held together during the final battle but Lucanis didn’t think he was anyone’s friend here. He was loyal to Rook, yes. She helped him tremendously during his journey with Spite and the crows. However, maybe he just let her get closer because he already knew her. The House of De Riva was also Viago’s house after all and while she didn’t have a perfect track record in the faction of the Crows, she was a Crow after all, a born and bred Trevisan. It was only natural that Lucanis liked her most.
Emmrich sat down on the chair opposite of Lucanis.
“Oh, I was indeed in Nevarra. I’m helping Manfred get settled in. Then I checked in with my colleagues, and forgot the time,” Emmrich said lightly. He didn’t have his staff with him. Lucanis noted that he carried it less and less the longer they’d all been living here, together on this journey. “The new academic year will start soon, after all.”
This tight feeling in Lucanis’ chest was flaring up again. Of course. They would all leave the lighthouse eventually, going back to their old lives.
While Taash had left immediately, after their great victory, and Davrin had left shortly after them to be in Arlathan with Assan and the other griffons, the others of the group were hesitant to leave. Bellara was still full of grief about her brother and tried to work through what she had experienced during their final battle. She didn’t want to return to Arlathan just yet, having told them over one dinner that she came to love her space and the calm of the Fade.
Neve simply didn’t have an apartment anymore because it had been destroyed during the attack on Minrathous, and the Caretaker had assured her that everyone was welcome here as long as they desired.
Rook was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Apparently their little team of misfits were called veilguards now but nobody wore the title of it as much as Rook did. She was the face of it. The beacon of resistance. There was still some cleaning up to do (quite literally, the whole city was one big mess) but all of them were going back to their old lives. Everyone but Rook.
Lucanis doubted that she’d pick her life up as a Crow again. Was that even allowed? You lived as a Crow, and you died as a Crow. Preferably during the successful finish of a contract. Going down with glory and all that.
He supposed he could just ignore it, since he was the First Talon. If he was okay with it as the First Talon, the other Talons had to be too.
Caterina would hate it of course.
And she’d tell him so in her next letter.
It really would have been easier if he had taken over after her death. Like this, she’d judge his every move as the First Talon.
And Harding’s current habitat…
Well, Harding was the reason why Taash left immediately. It hurt to think about her. It hurt Lucanis because the empty greenhouse was a constant reminder of his failure. If it weren’t for Harding, they wouldn’t have gotten the new and only chance they had. She was dead because he was weak. He should visit the greenhouse eventually. He was avoiding it, afraid of the guilt crushing him in there —
“… you with me, my friend?”
Emmrich’s soft voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.
He gave a curt nod.
“Apologies, Emmrich,” he said, feeling uncomfortable under Emmrich’s worried gaze. Why did he look so worried? Was Spite telling him something?
You don’t need. Me. To Embarrass. Yourself.
Spite had talked through him and Emmrich raised his brows at him. Lucanis’ flight instinct kicked in. But he stayed seated. He was trained to play it cool in every situation.
“I was just lost in thoughts. The new year, yes? So, you’re retuning to the Necropolis? I’m sure you miss your home. Will Manfred be living with you?”
NO. EMMRICH HERE. Curiosity HERE.
Not spoken through Lucanis’ mouth but loud enough for Emmrich to notice.
“My dear Spite,” he said warmly and Lucanis watched as Spite left his body to stand behind Emmrich. He put his hands on Emmrich’s shoulders as if he wanted to physically prevent him from leaving right there. Emmrich lifted his gloved hand and put it on his shoulder somehow knowing exactly that Spite was behind him and touching his shoulder.
Lucanis’ chest ached. He rubbed with his palm over it, his fingers touching the silver crow. This wasn’t the first time Spite left him to touch Emmrich and be close to him. Lucanis thought he was just curious about Manfred, but Manfred had moved to the Necropolis. And yet Spite always wanted to hang out with Emmrich once he was close enough. And threw a tantrum whenever Lucanis wouldn’t leave his room behind the kitchen and go to Emmrich just because. A Crow always walked with purpose. And the distance between Emmrich’s and Lucanis’ rooms was too far for Spite to simply go there. He could leave Lucanis’ physical body when they were in the same room. Every time he did so, Lucanis could feel it as a physical pull, a magical leash, straining as soon as Spite went too far.
But who was on whose leash?
The jury was still out on that.
“As much as I loved this eventful year and would love to stay here and just write down what happened, I do need to return to my students. And Manfred. He needs me. There is so much I have learned about the Fade and Spirits. So many theories to study just because of Solas’ memories alone — I must return.”
Spite snarled and Lucanis got up from his chair abruptly. Emmrich startled a bit and looked at him. Lucanis pressed his lips together.
“…Tea,” he pressed out.
“Come again?” Emmrich asked.
“Do you want tea? I want coffee. But you prefer tea.”
Emmrich smiled at him, seemingly not noticing how very uncomfortable Lucanis felt right now, trying to keep Spite at bay.
“It is rather late, Lucanis. You should lie down and rest. Sleep comes easier to you now, does it not?”
Lucanis nodded. Since Spite and he had agreed that life together was better than trying to separate themselves, Lucanis had been sleeping better. In fact, after their last battle, he must have slept for more than 12 hours, utterly exhausted like the rest of them. But he still felt uncomfortable at the mere thought of lying down and sleep. While he wasn’t caged in the Ossuary anymore in his mind, he did dream about it more often than he’d like to admit. He also dreamt often about Harding being killed and thrown into the abyss, joining her forefathers in the ground. Sometimes, his dreams also gave him several variations of his team being dead, scattered around him, or being absorbed by the taint.
He just did not like sleeping at all. It was never a form of relaxation for him, even before the Ossuary. It had been a necessity so his body and mind would continue to work. And to stay sharp on missions.
Sleep was overrated in general.
Because we. ARE. Alone. Isolated.
“It does, but I am not tired,” he finally replied to Emmrich.
LIAR.
Was that pity on Emmrich’s face? By the Maker, Lucanis should just go to his room. This was ridiculous.
“What are you doing here then?” He asked Emmrich, voice snappier than he would like to admit. He regretted his tone already when Emmrich blinked and straightened up a bit, the soft look returning to polite professionalism. But in for a gold coin…
“You should sleep then too, no? Why aren’t you in the apartment in Nevarra doing so?”
Why did that sound so accusing? He didn’t want it to come out like this.
“My dear Lucanis,” Emmrich said and got up again. Why did the dear not sound as fond as it sounded when he talked to Spite? “I still have some things to finish up here. I wanted to grab a bite to eat because I forgot doing so in Nevarra and then go to bed.”
He took his coat again and Lucanis wanted to scream inside.
“Eat?” He asked. “I can —.”
“Good night, Lucanis. I just remembered I had some leftover biscuits from my teatime with Bellara in my room. I do have a fondness for sweet things, you see?”
He was smiling at him again and Lucanis hated it. Why was he always so nice and compassionate? Nobody deserved this. This constant understanding. Especially not Lucanis.
“I,” Lucanis started and then deflated a bit. “Good night, Emmrich.”
Emmrich nodded his head and left the kitchen. Lucanis listened to the soft jingling sound of his bangles and other golden adornments.
Then it was quiet again, just the cracking sounds of the wood from the fireplace behind him and the screaming thoughts inside his head.
FOOL.
Lucanis didn’t argue and folded his papers, putting them in an envelope. He then went to his room to seal the letter and tossed it onto his bedside table. Then he threw himself onto the small cot and. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared up at the ceiling.
Sleep wouldn’t come.
Until it did.
Spite often forced him these days. It wasn’t just pushing Lucanis into the back of his own mind and taking over. It was not making him pass out like before, at the beginning. It was nudging him to sleep while whispering that he was an idiot.
He woke with a start.
It was always like this when Spite put him to sleep. Nothingness, forced rest, and then jerking out of sleep as if Spite had yelled into his ear.
EMMRICH. Awake.
Lucanis frowned and shook his head a bit to get the sleepiness out of his mind.
Bellara. Waking. UP
Neve OUT
ROOK OUT
“I don’t need your report every morning, Spite,” Lucanis muttered but it wasn’t said with any bite. Spite was aware that Lucanis was calmer when he knew where his people were. Teammates. Acquaintances.
Spite nudged him and left his body to punch against the small wardrobe.
WASH. Change. You REEK.
“I do not,” Lucanis said and subtly lifted his arm to sniff himself.
HURRY. EMMRICH. FAVORITE FOOD. HAPPY.
Lucanis got up and took off his rumpled dress shirt. He never changed into actual sleeping clothes and regretted it when he woke up the next day. If he even slept.
A Crow always had to be ready. But a Crow also had to look presentable all the time.
It was scary how clear Caterina’s voice sounded in his head just thinking about the lesson back then.
How did Emmrich sleep? He was always so well put together. Maybe he went to bed in his perfectly pressed clothes and did that nifty green magic of his that forced him not to move in his sleep. Maybe he was in a state of undead, not moving at all and just waking up the same way he went to bed. Did he sleep in a coffin? Did he climb into a freshly dug grave to feel comfortable? Maybe this was some Mortalitasi initiation rite. If you didn’t sleep with the dead, you couldn’t be with them —
Spite snarled and managed to throw a wet cloth at his face. He could do things like these more and more. Moving physical objects. To throw them at Lucanis mostly.
WASH.
Lucanis let the cloth fall onto the washing table and dropped his dress shirt. Thanks to the Caretaker, they never needed to worry about their laundry.
He saw that Spite had filled the basin already. The water jug was almost empty, puddles of water around it on the wooden surface. It was cold of course. Lucanis preferred a cold wash to wake up quickly. Not to punish himself, screw you Viago.
He soaked the washcloth properly and wringed it out before starting to clean his armpits, his neck and arms. He carefully washed the right part of his chest, one of his newest injuries from the final battle two weeks ago, still tender.
He looked at it thoughtfully. It had sliced a bit into his crow tattoo and now the beacon looked as if it was broken.
That was what he was, wasn’t he? A broken Crow.
He looked at the other tattoo on his left side. The Dellamorte crest was still there. Not even a scratch. No scar, nothing. And he had more scars than he could count.
Still there. Stil a Dellamorte.
EMMRICH. Comes.
Lucanis dunked the washcloth into the water again and let it soak. He undid his pants and then quickly gave the rest of the necessary parts a wash. He should visit one of the Treviso thermal baths soon.
He had a whole wing of the Dellamorte villa to himself that had a spacious washroom, but he hadn’t set foot there since he was made First Talon and Illario had been taken away by Viago. Lucanis still didn’t know what he did with him and where they put his cousin. He wasn’t eager to find out either. He was alive. That was what counted. A living family member.
After taking care of his teeth and checking his beard in the small mirror, he put on a fresh dress shirt, attached the silver crow and put a vest on.
Just as he was leaving his room, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, Emmrich was coming into the kitchen, looking fresh and proper as usual.
“Good Morning,” Lucanis greeted him. “Tea?”
“Good morning, Lucanis,” Emmrich said with a small smile. Not a hair out of place. No shadow of stubble, nothing. He had gone to bed late, had he not? Maybe it was an illusion. A cleverly cast mask to hide any imperfection on that face and hair.
He didn’t even look rumbled after fights. Dirty clothes, yes, a bit of tainted flesh on his face? Maybe. But never a hair out of place. No creases in his clothes.
“I was about to put the kettle on. I could make you one too, if you prefer,” Emmrich told him, walking around the big table.
Lucanis made a face and Emmrich chuckled quietly, laugh lines appearing next to his eyes.
WANT. LICK.
Emmrich gave no indication that he heard that and Lucanis ignored it too.
“Of course, I was joking, my friend,” Emmerich said, still looking amused about his own joke. “You rather risk an early demise because of your constant caffeine intake instead of trying some of the tea variations I could offer you.”
“Crows don’t have a long life,” Lucanis said dryly.
“What about your grandmother then?” Emmrich asked, filling the kettle with water.
Even that simple task was done with graceful movements. How did he look so elegant even doing such mundane things like brewing tea? Was it age? Lifelong learning? Special education at the Necropolis?
“Caterina is just alive out of spite,” he said to the mage, smirking.
HEY.
Emmrich chuckled again, having heard Spite’s affront.
“It’s just a saying, my dear Spite.”
The kettle was filled, the fire going, and Emmrich turned to Lucanis, leaning against the cold part of the hearth.
“Why do you seek death, Lucanis?” He asked out of the blue and Lucanis hated the worry that had replaced the amusement. Why did he worry so much? Especially about him? He was not worth it. Emmrich should know that.
He didn’t have a reply for it. He opened his mouth to answer with some snarky comment, but the words got stuck in his throat.
“Why do you fear death?” He asked the older man after a pause that was a tad too long.
Emmrich, usually not having difficulties with finding the right words, didn’t have a reply either.
Instead, he just gave Lucanis another one of his polite smiles.
“Fair enough,” he said in that charming tone of his and the kettle next to him whistled, the water being ready. Somehow the magic in the lighthouse made everything quicker, more convenient. But also, something to get used to when you had to adjust the cooking times in your recipes.
Emmrich turned around and reached up to a cupboard above the hearth where he had stored his favorite tea mixes from Nevarra.
Lucanis looked at his wide shoulders, then down his back and the curved waist.
His hand itched.
GRIP.
Lucanis snapped out of his staring and finally went to grind his coffee beans. Bellara came into the kitchen just as Lucanis was using the leftover hot water from the kettle.
“Professor! You’re awake,” she said excitedly. “I had an epiphany upon waking up. How we could openly support the Evanuris were spirits once theory!”
Emmrich’s eyes lit up and Lucanis stared at the ground beans. Another round of grinding. Another.
It was too finely ground now.
Mierda.
He tuned out the happy talk from Bellara and Emmrich, putting on an apron because a Crow usually didn’t cook and if it did, it was taking care of its clothes while doing so. Tomato juice was a worse stain than blood.
“Oh my,” Emmrich said when Lucanis put scrambled eggs, freshly cut tomatoes and Nevarran flatbread on the table a good ten minutes later. “Bellara, we are the worst friends. We got so caught up in our discussion that Lucanis did the whole work. My apologies, Lucanis.”
He looked comically crestfallen about this. Usually, the others were setting the table. It was the unspoken rule that the person who made the food didn’t have to set the table, nor did they have to do the dishes.
“It’s fine, Emmrich,” Lucanis said. His tone was softer than he intended, and he hated it. Why was he so obsessed with the other man’s face and that he never wanted it to show anything else than joy? Content? Happiness?
“No, it is not. I do apologize.”
Bellara now looked guilty too.
Lucanos rolled his eyes. “Stop the dramatics.”
“I’ll try and find you fresh herbs in Arlathan later,” Bellara promised, smiling at him widely. “I saw that the jar was almost empty when you cooked the Dalish stew. For us yesterday.”
“Oh, you had your favorite stew yesterday, Bellara, my dear?” Emmrich asked. “How lovely. Remind me, Lucanis, how many tries did you need to make it taste like Bellara’s grandmothers?” He asked Lucanis.
“Six times,” Bellara said with a chirping voice.
Lucanis almost stabbed the forks for them into the wooden table. The uncomfortable feeling was back.
“Eat,” he ordered and turned away to get the rest of the breakfast. (Fresh blood orange salad. A Nevarran delicacy.)
He knew they were grinning at each other across the table. Why was he their laughingstock?
Moron.
They were just finishing up their morning — Bellara swiping the crumbs away with a broom and Emmrich doing the dishes while Lucanis was having his third cup of coffee — when Rook burst into the room. She looked like she had a massive hangover.
“Rook!” Bellara said happily and looked excited like an overgrown kid. In the beginning, Lucanis had suspected her of overdoing it and being a fake bubbly personality. But she simply was like that.
“My dear Rook. It’s good to have you back with us,” Emmrich smiled just as widely and Lucanis stared into his coffee for a long moment before he nodded at their leader.
“Rook.”
Rook sat down at the chair that Emmrich had occupied previously and groaned.
“Fuck, I’m so tired. Lucanis, where have you been? You’ve missed the annual De Riva House Party.”
“Did I?” Lucanis asked. Viago’s invitation was still in his small desk. Unopened. Rook had also talked to him about it.
“So, you are hungover. Usually, you only look like this after looking for the tainted in the crossroads,” he told her, tapping one finger on his coffee cup.
“Not today,” Rook said and put her head on the table. Emmrich chuckled and patted her hair. Droplets of water were running down his wet hand, being caught by a frizzy curl.
Bellara put the broom away so she could prepare a plate for Rook from their leftovers.
Lucanis could feel Spite becoming restless. He finished his coffee and got up to place his cup into the soapy water of the kitchen sink. Emmrich was busy with the pan Lucanis had used to make the scrambled eggs. He had taken off his glove, rings and some of his bangles so they wouldn’t get dirty and wet. Lucanis stared at the light skin of Emmrich’s forearm. He very rarely saw Emmrich without the glove.
“Why aren’t you just using magic for the dishes?” He asked Emmrich, looking up at his face. Emmrich smiled at him and shrugged.
“Magic is not the solution for everything. Hard work pays off.”
Lucanis picked up one of the rings. Emmrich didn’t stop him, nor did he show any indication that he didn’t like Lucanis touching his things. It was a simple gold band, nothing special about it. Most of his other rings had green emeralds or red rubies in it. He put the simple gold ring back on the counter and picked up another one.
It had a violet stone in it. He inspected it closer.
“An Amethyst ring?” Lucanis asked. “A bit cheap for you, is it?” He added in a teasing tone.
LOVE it. Want it. EMMRICH.
Emmrich didn’t give an explanation. He just shrugged, which was quite unusual for him and there was this small smile again.
Maker.
Lucanis rubbed his chest.
“I need to do my morning exercises,” he said and left the kitchen quickly before anyone could say anything. He went to the room that Taash had inhabited because their makeshift workout gear was still there. In the past, he had liked joining their and Davrin’s training every now and then. Now he didn’t use it often anymore because they weren’t there, and it wasn’t the same.
Which was ridiculous because he always did his exercises alone. Before the Ossuary. Before Spite. He shouldn’t be affected by this. He shouldn’t miss their crazy bets or the banter. Or their tips on how to get stronger while he, in return, helped them move their bodies smoother. A body like liquid. Ready to pounce.
“You basically are teaching us how to move like a cat,” Taash had told him once but despite the comment, neither Davrin, nor Tash had complained and listened to him, accepting his advice.
Lucanis ignored the pang in his chest as he looked at the full yet empty room. He took off his vest and the shirt carefully, draping it over a table and started with light stretching.
Spite usually quieted down a lot when Lucanis was doing this. His exercises were often performed in an almost meditative way, so it was a calm anchor for both.
A good hour after he started his training, he was hanging at the rack. It was his finishing exercise for the morning, his body moving slowly up and down, arms straining, when there was the sound of someone clearing his throat.
Spite woke up immediately.
EMMRICH.
Lucanis breathed out slowly, moving his body down just as slowly and let himself glide back down to the floor.
Emmrich was standing in the room, back straight, hands clasped together.
“Lucanis,” he said, and the Crow nodded and walked over to the table where a small towel had shown up a few minutes after he started. He wiped his face.
“Emmrich.”
“Rook and Bellara have left for Arlathan,” he informed him and Lucanis hummed. He looked up from his towel and then wiped his body down with it. Arms first, then the chest.
“So, we’ll both be here alone? You want to discuss what’s for lunch?”
Emmrich blinked and then looked a bit guilty.
“Oh no, my friend. I just wanted to bid you goodbye for now. I must return to the Necropolis today.”
Lucanis stopped his movement for a second and then straightened up.
“I see,” he said, nonchalantly.
“I’m terribly sorry to leave you here alone,” Emmrich said and stepped forward. Lucanis took a step back and could feel the table against the back of his thigh. Emmrich stopped immediately.
“You make it sound like that’s a problem,” Lucanis told him, amused. “Because I don’t have a problem with it. We are all busy. I don’t mind the solitude. Crows often prefer that.”
Alone. ALONE. Isolation. Don’t want back. Not Ossuary. HATE.
“Oh Lucanis,” Emmrich said, and it was that soft tone again that made Lucanis so uncomfortable.
“Please do not worry about me,” Lucanis said with a frown. “I was planning on going to Treviso today anyway. I am the First Talon after all. There are things to do, contracts to be chosen, mages to be killed.”
Emmrich looked at him for a long uncomfortable moment and then sighed and gave him a polite smile again.
“Very well. I’ll leave you to it then. I try to be back as soon as possible.”
“Take your time, Emmrich. I’m sure everyone in the Necropolis is waiting for you and your lectures. You have your way with storytelling. Don’t let them wait.”
Emmrich looked at him for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. He just bid him goodbye and left. His coat was moving behind him in a very dramatic way.
FOOL.
When the door closed, Lucanis dropped his towel and punched the table with his fist until some of the wood gave away and the splinters ripped into the skin of his hand.
He looked at his bloody hand and took a few deep breaths. He had to calm down. He’d been working so hard in getting things with Spite under control. Why did he feel so unbalanced?
He didn’t want to be dependent on random people, strangers, really. He didn’t want to be attached. He didn’t want — didn’t need —
Alone was good.
Alone was safe.
Alone meant no complications in his life.
He had more than enough problems already.
Lucanis found a pitcher of water and a glass on the small table next to the wall of the entrance and greedily drank some.
Spite was screaming in his head.
He ignored it as best as he could.