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Mugs.
It had started with just one. Something that Rook For Mythal's sake can you call me Jirell already please? had commented about in passing, on one of his swings through the little nook that Lucanis had claimed for a space. That Lucanis seemed to have a habit of collecting quite a few of them and the team always knew where to find a mug if they needed it. He'd said it with that mild, amused tone of voice of his, a smile playing about the corner of the mage's thin lips, clearly teasing. It had widened when Lucanis protested, saying that there weren't that many.....Except there were. Mugs littered the floor and end table, all of them of the same sort that had been here when they'd all arrived - plain, serviceable and devoid of any sort of personality. The sort of item that was gotten en masse expecting to change many hands and more than a few be broken in the process. The Crow did have one that reminded him of Café Pietra, that he had nicked one day soon after coming back to the city. A wide bowl of a mug glazed a deep purple, the dark feathers of a crow's wing swept over half of it. He'd left the coin for it, at least. But a bit of home in this strange, half-Fade place Rook had apparently stumbled into as his base, put the assassin at ease. It was for the special cups. The first cup of coffee of the evening, when the night was still young and he could still enjoy the brew. He set it aside in a careful place after his second cup, not wanting to break it. Not wanting Spite to knock it over thinking that would stop Lucanis from having another cup. It had nearly happened once, and Lucanis didn't want to risk it happening again.
But lately, later, amid the greyish clay mugs, there were spots of color. Where the Café mug once sat alone among plainer fellows, there were others now to join it.
A glassy purple one with dark spots and shimmery swirls - Bellara said it reminded her of the wings Spite gave him during combat.
A beaten copper one Taash had shoved into his hands one day with a disgruntled noise, saying they'd found it in a ruin and maybe he could use it since copper was good for heat retention or something like that.
There was the set of smaller, dark blue cups with glints of gold along the rims from Neve. Made for the stronger shots of coffee the investigator seemed to prefer on long nights, when she was up chasing theories and evading sleep.
Harding had given him one carved from pure obsidian, joking that he could use it as a weapon if he had nothing else. The Crow had turned it over in his hands and soberly told her that he could make anything into a weapon, and that he had Spite if all else failed, and the scout had quickly excused herself with an disquieted look.
Davrin's mug was carved from a block of some dark, burled wood he'd found in Arlathan, polished to a smooth gleam. Said he'd made sure the original block wasn't glowing or floating or any of that nonsense when he'd picked it up. An assurance Lucanis had appreciated, since his eyes itched being here enough. He didn't need them getting worse after drinking coffee from an enchanted mug.
Their resident necromancer had politely set a box beside Lucanis after dinner one day, saying that Manfred had been particularly pleased at finding this earlier and insisted Emmrich give it to him straight away. Lucanis had opened it with a small bit of trepidation, preparing himself for anything from something perfectly normal, to a skull or something of the like. Not that he'd mind either way. The gilded mug, dotted with opalescent stones had been a pleasant surprise, and he'd stopped by the library to thank Emmrich, and Manfred, for the gift, finding himself perusing the shelves for another book when the elder mage had not so subtly encouraged it. He'd gone back to his room with a few books after that trip, and somehow a promise to join Emmrich for coffee at a later time when there wasn't chaos around them.
Lucanis appreciated these small gifts more than he let on, taking closer care of them than the others. Even Spite was curious, pushing each one around after they showed up, unsteadily as with all his contact with the material realm, much like a dog with an unknown item, hissing back at Lucanis when cautioned to 'Be careful'. The demon had snapped that what did he care? He couldn't really touch them anyway. That didn't stop his fascination, especially with the one from Bellara, and Lucanis had caught his demon staring at it on more than one occasion.
Mugs from everyone, except the one that he'd appreciate it from the most. Weeks of these little gifts finding their way into his possession, sitting on his shelves, knowing who they were from. All except Rook.
He turned this over in his head after they'd gotten back from Treviso one afternoon, supplies they couldn't usually get in the Lighthouse being carried in the group's packs and over shoulders as they made their way through the Eluvian and into the strange pocket of the Fade they now lived in. The Caretaker was waiting there, hovering patiently for them all to clear the shining expanse of the mirror before gesturing for Rook to come closer. The mage paused long enough to hike his pack over Davrin's shoulder before breaking away from the group, waving them off to continue without him. Lucanis vaguely recalled this. Recalled glancing over his shoulder at the elf, the sharp-featured face tipped up to the spirit hovering in front of him, whose glowing hands gestured grandly about something, before the group passed out of sight.
Off to the kitchens to drop off their things before vanishing to their own affairs, some of them cobbling together a quick meal or scrounging for leftovers from the evening before. Lucanis, meanwhile, mulled the mug (or lack thereof) over, the thought warring for priority with the debate of if he should open the bag of coffee beans he'd acquired from the Café this trip to the city. On Rook's encouragement no less. Absently, he tidies up the kitchen space once everyone's left as he thinks, putting things away, setting other things in the sink, turning over his dilemma while his hands idly cleaned. It wasn't as if Rook owed him anything, after all. But Lucanis couldn't shake away the thought and wonder just why? Especially after it had been the elf who pointed out his unintentional collection in the first place. And had continued to do so whenever the man had stopped by for a recap of an excursion they'd just returned from, for a game of cards, or to check in and see simply how things were going.
He's into his room, going through the reflexive motions of shrugging out of his greatcoat and weapons, when a cleared throat makes him tense, hand going to a knife still strapped across his chest. In such a small space, it was easy to find the source, at Rook, no, Jirell perched casually nearby on the stool that he'd brought with him one day, and then left there, and always seemed to settle on like a bird coming to roost. It wasn't as if Lucanis had seating otherwise in the narrow confines of the pantry. Though that was for a reason. Chairs encouraged spending time in a place, and he was posessive about his time alone, especially after the Ossuary. But for Jirell? For Jirell he left the stool where it was.
Spite cackled that he'd warned him that Rook had been there. But did he listen? Nooooooo.. Lucanis mentally hissed at the demon, giving the mage a polite nod as he paused, coat half off one shoulder. "Is there a situation, Rook?"
'Mmm? Oh. No. Nothing like that. Please. Continue. I can wait.' One slender, splotched hand waved in an encouraging gesture for Lucanis to continue what he'd been doing before returning to being draped over the leg he'd drawn up on one of the stool's pegs. The Crow gave him an odd look, but continued with the concise movements to shrug out of his gear, hanging his coat and weapons up neatly before turning to face the mage, absently adjusting the crow skull pin at his throat. Rook's eyes flicked down at the motion, following it before looking back up at his face, head tipping ever so slightly.
"I was about to make a cup of coffee, if you'd...like to join me?" Lucanis offered, reaching for one of the special cups on the shelf nearby where he kept his personal foodstuffs.
'About that..." Rook started, the mismatched eyes dropping to the bag of coffee Lucanis had set on the shelf next to the cups, lingering there before moving back to the assassin. 'I have something for you and your...collection.' The words carry that hint of amusement once more as the elf uncurled long limbs from their perch to stand before he leaned down to pluck something up from beside the stool Lucanis hadn't noticed was there before.
The mage's bare feet made no more than a whisper over the stone floor as he approached, oblivious to the demon that circled around behind him, standing next to the stool before sitting there and folding one leg over the other in what could have been a mockery of the elven mage, if not for the way Spite's eyes followed him, intent and almost hungry. Lucanis looked away as Jirell stopped in front of him and presented a bundle wrapped in cloth, tied with a woven cord of some sort.
'Took longer than I wanted, finding the right one. Bellara stole the last one from me.' He added ruefully, the angular tattoo and the scars across his face crinkling with the amused grimace that crossed it. 'Hopefully, you'll find it useful.'
Lucanis blinked, looking down at the bundle that got pushed into his hands before loosening the cord. Cloth was carefully unravelled, mindful of the potential for something delicate inside, and his brows rose when the wrappings fell away. A clay mug, wide and round and patterned here and there with tiny triangles, coated with a rich umber glaze that he found flecked with gold as he turned it in his hands. The handle was looped large enough that he could tuck his hand through it, a pattern of vines and leaves wrapped around it in subtle hues of greens, trailing down to circle along the bottom. A bottom that...had a latch? Lucanis paused, thumbing at it before looking to Rook with a raised brow. "Should I be expecting something to soon explode?" He joked, lips twisting in a wry look that only deepened when the mage blinked and looked confused a moment.
'Huh? Oh. No. That's.... Ah. Let me..." Hands lifted and hesitated before resting carefully, delicately, on Lucanis' own curved around the mug, turning them together until the latch was upwards. It was given a nudge to open it, revealing a hollow compartment. 'Some of the Veil Jumpers use mugs like this for late nights. You can put a warming stone in the bottom and it keeps your drink from getting too cold.' Jirell explained with a shrug, hands lingering a moment before he pulled them away and Lucanis nearly dropped the mug as the impulse to grab for those retreating hands swamped him. Spite sniggered nearby, crooning about how helpful Rook was. How thoughtful. They should keep him...
The demon is ignored as the assassin's fingers tightened on the mug, looking down at it after a moment. "Ah. That is very useful indeed."
'Not that you'll likely need it, as quickly as you seem to go through coffee some nights.' The elf added with a smirk, head tipping briefly back towards the stack of mugs Lucanis had yet to clear away beside the bed from the recent days.
"Still. I should like to give it a try."
'Coffee then?'
"Coffee. Come. We can open the bag I purchased from Café Pietra."
Now it was Rook's turn for his brows to raise, head cocking ever so slightly, unknowingly nearly brushing up against Spite as the demon had now flickered across the space to hover beside the mage, half crouched to stare into his face intently. 'You'll spoil me.'
*Yesss. Spoil him. Make him want to stay. Keep him here. Keep him fo-.*
Lucanis cut across whatever else Spite was going to go on further about, pointedly ignoring him and keeping his attention on Rook. "Mmm. I think that should be allowed, now and then, Rook." Lucanis murmured, catching the way the pointed ears went red at the words before he turned away to head towards the door.
'Jirell. Just Jirell. Please. Rook is....too formal for simply coffee with a friend.' The mage sighed, covering up the fluster those casual, smooth words had caused and clearing his throat.
"Fair enough." Lucanis gestured for the mage to proceed him, pausing as Jirell brushed past him, closer than necessary, close enough to smell the sharp tang of magic that lingered around him, mixed with leather and forest that always seemed to follow the Veil Jumper. He swallowed, barely remembering to grab the bag of coffee at Spite's sharp mockery to not forget it, almost missing the sly look the mage gave him before slipping out the door.
The bag crinkled in his hand as he took a breath, hissing at Spite to shut up already as the demon started in on another tirade about his opinions on the matter of Rook. Patience. Lucanis could be patient. Patience had gotten him through his year in the Ossuary. Patience would, hopefully, reward him in the end here as well.
*You'd better. We won't wait. Don't want to wait. You're being a pru-* Lucanis slammed the door in Spite's face, knowing it wouldn't do anything, but it was satisfying nonetheless, before carrying the bag and his newest mug to where Jirell had already stoked a fresh fire and put a kettle on to heat. He had a new mug to break in.