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It was one of those rare days when Rook and her companions found themselves actually able to get some rest in between the chaos of saving the world and assisting their newfound allies. It had taken the team a while to get used to these kinds of days, feeling the pressure of having to keep going, keep doing more. After all, it seemed like whatever they did, it was still never enough. The blight still spread, the Venatori still ruled Minrathous, the Antaam still wreaked havoc on Treviso, and so on.
But, as Rook told the group a very wise leader had once said to her, you can’t keep going without taking time to refuel. The best time to do so, she had noted, was when there was nothing to do but wait for news and direction.
That was how Lucanis Dellamorte and Davrin the Dalish Greywarden found themselves sitting awkwardly on the kitchen couch, a few feet apart.
They had been there for almost fifteen minutes now, silently staring around the room.
Davrin was leaning forward, elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped together near his face. He wore a look of exasperation on his face, even though neither had exchanged a word since sitting down on that couch.
Lucanis, on the other hand sat with perfect posture – shoulders squared, straight back, arms crossed, and a pained expression.
“So… this is how bro’s hang out?” Lucanis said, raising an eyebrow as he stared at his “bedroom” door across the room. “Sitting on a couch in silence?”
“When it’s taking so long to get the game on, yeah.”
The hangout had been Davrin’s idea, part of his attempt at mending the growing strain between the two. Davrin thought the timing for this little break was perfect; the Wallup Cup Finals were on – Hallsburg versus Dairsmuid, pitting the Anderfels and Rivainis against one another for this game of a lifetime. Unlike the more docile version of this game played in the Free Marches and Ferelden, Wallup in North Thedas had far larger stakes, with much larger balls, bats instead of mallets, and goal posts that took skill and precision to get the boulder-sized balls through.
If there was one thing that could be counted on in Thedas, it was that the game would always go on, right up until there was no longer a field to play it on. In anticipation of the match, Davrin had been plotting with the Caretaker and Bellara to find a way to configure some of the old Elvish devices around the Lighthouse to be able to mirror the game all the way from Rivain. When they confirmed it was possible, Davrin had – possibly reluctantly – insisted on a bro’s day to watch the game. Not that he thought the others wouldn’t want to watch it, but he figured there was some much-needed bonding between them. The women and Taash had decent relationships with everyone, but here, there was work. Emmerich had also been invited, but politely declined noting he had lost any possible appetite for the sport after having to break up a fight between spirits who had been on opposing teams.
“We were worried we were about to have a bunch of spite and rage demons on our hands,” Emmerich had explained, looking to Lucanis apologetically. “No offence to you, Spite. In terms of behaviour, I have no worries about you most of the time.”
Although he couldn’t see it, Spite had flashed a toothy grin at the necromancer. “Better than other demons. I like that!”
Emmerich had chuckled, hearing Spite’s words, whereas Lucanis had simply rolled his eyes.
Now, presently, the assassin and the Grey Warden continued their awkward silence. Finally, after what felt like hours (but was, in reality, only a few minutes after their conversation), the Caretaker glided in, followed by Bellara. Bellara carried a small device that she sat on the coffee table in front of them, muttering to herself.
“Okay, now if I just push this here, and shift this then it should…”
There was a loud click, and then a flash as a scene appeared in the air above the device, the Wallup field in front of them. The two teams had already lined up, facing each other for the beginning of the game.
“There! Okay boys, I hope you enjoy it! Remember, friends are good, friends are fun!”
“Bellara,” Davrin said in a near growl.
Bellara took that as her sign to leave. “Okay bye!” she shouted before Davrin could say anything else, and ran out of the lighthouse, the Caretaker following behind.
Lucanis could have almost sworn he heard the Caretaker chuckle.
“Well, what do we talk about now that the game is on?” Lucanis asked, watching the live image in apprehension. He knew enough about Wallup to not need a runthrough on the game, but he had also never enjoyed it.
In fact, when Davrin had first suggested bro time, Lucanis had been thrilled and immediately launched into a ramble about contacting Viago about a contract so they could complete an assassination together. He had been rather disappointed to discover that in Davrin’s world, that was not the definition of bro time.
Davrin grunted at Lucanis’ latest question.
“We’re going to have bro time, just being bros,” Davrin said. “That means watching the game and not talking. Cheering only.”
Lucanis scrunched his nose. If he was going to spend the next few hours staring at a game he’d rather be doing anything but watching, at least it could be made better with some food.
“Hold that thought. I am going to get us a charcuterie board and some espresso. Everything is better with charcuterie and caffeine.”
He stood to move towards the kitchen, and Davrin turned sharply to face him, looking horrified.
“No man, what the fuck? I said bro time. Being bros – not doing all that fancy stuff. Just sit down, and watch the game.”
Lucanis chuckled. “One can still have bro time with refined taste Davrin. It is not one or the other.”
We could just stab him. Spite grinned, and moved in front of Davrin, pretending to poke the elf. Smells bad. Like feathers and mushrooms.
“No, Spite, we are not stabbing Davrin!” Lucanis purposely responded out loud, raising his voice slightly.
Davrin glared. “And you wonder why I don’t trust you.”
“You have nothing to worry about Davrin, Spite is just being Spite.” He said the last bit a little sing-songy, unable to resist taunting the larger man slightly.
“That’s what I am afraid of,” Davrin muttered. Rook’s voice echoed through his mind. Accept him as he is Davrin. You guys have a lot in common. Just opposite sides of the coin really. Give him a chance. Davrin let out a harrumph, trying to focus on the game.
There had not been much to miss at this point; there had been a lot of back and forth across the field without a single goal. Then, OH OH! Finally! Hossberg put a ball through one of the nets and Davrin leapt off the couch, pumping his fist in the air.
“YEAH! That’s what I’m talking about!”
Lucanis waited until Davrin sat back down from his cheering, before floating the idea of snacks to him again.
Davrin was about to make a snarky reply when the two were interrupted by a familiar voice. Taash was leaning against the door to the kitchen, watching the scene in amusement.
“Lucanis, just tell them they are gaming snacks and…” Taash’s voice trailed off as they caught sight of a player charging across the field. “Wait, are you watching the game? No way! One of the Lords is plays for Dairsmuid!”
Taash rushed over to the couch and flopped down between the two men, eyes not leaving the image as they glinted with an intensity neither of the companions had seen on their face before. Not taking their eyes off the game, Taash said plainly, “Are you getting that tray or not Lucanis? I can’t watch a game without snacks.”
Lucanis grinned and stood. “Let me get on with that.”
Once Lucanis was in the kitchen, Davrin gave Taash a confused look, and in a hushed voice said, “Wait, you eat that girly shit?”
“Davrin, it’s food. How can food be girly? It’s just food.”
Davrin frowned a moment, then leaned back into the couch, eyes back on the game. He supposed it was just meat and cheese, even if it was done up with too many frills and fancy olives and things.
Shortly after – and almost inhumanly fast – Lucanis returned, balancing two trays. One featured a carafe of steaming hot coffee and three mugs. The other, a charcuterie board covered in different salamis, hams, and cheeses. And there, in the middle of the board, were a dozen thinly sliced pieces of meat done up in tiny little roses. Lucanis grinned at Davrin ferociously.
“You seemed to insist that I was making girly food, so I thought I would oblige.” He gave a slight bow, fighting the urge to roar with laughter as Davrin looked as though he might start yelling.
The other man took a deep breath and relaxed. “You know what, I’m not taking the bait. The game is on.”
Taash grunted in frustration. “Just shut up, eat the food, and say thank you Lucanis.”
Davrin grumbled and mumbled out a “Thank you, Lucanis,” as he began to load a napkin with some of the food. He had to admit, getting some food with the game did seem pretty nice.
As Taash swiped some of the food for themselves and popped it in their mouth, they flashed Lucanis a grin at the fiery feeling that burst through their mouths.
“Nice, Lucanis, this is great.”
Lucanis leaned towards Taash and whispered, “I put extra spice on everything, just for you.”
Taash choked and glanced over towards Davrin, who was midway through chewing on a piece of salami and starting to look very, very uncomfortable.
***
From the other side of the lighthouse, Rook was stretched out on the top balcony of the main building, enjoying a good book, when she was interrupted by Davrin’s voice roaring across the void.
“I’m going to KILL you Lucanis!”
Something crashed in the kitchen, and Rook grinned. “Oh good, they’re finally getting along.” With a satisfied, happy little wiggle, Rook returned to her book, ignoring the crashing and banging.