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“So, Lucanis, I heard Crows can slow down their breathing until they become invisible.”
Taash had spun their chair around, leaning on the backrest as they stared at the Crow expectantly. The question caught Lucanis off guard, derailing his train of thought. He blinked at the page in front of him, pen hovering mid-sentence. “Why would slowing down your breathing make you turn invisible?” “That's what I was gonna ask!” They shot back, head cocked to the side.” So. Can you?”
“No.” He replied flatly, before returning his attention to the letters in front of him.
“Oh. Okay.” The silence in the dining hall was short-lived.
“And what about that special move Crows can do that can stop their enemies heart?”
This time Lucanis was prepared.
“Yes, Taash, it’s called stabbing,” he deadpanned, his pen tapping once against the paper.
From across the room, Harding had tried but failed to suppress her chuckle. He shot her a sharp look, which only made her grin widen before she continued her conversation with Davrin.
Most of the team had their own rooms, though Rook stubbornly refused to consider her aquarium a ‘room’. Yet they all seemed to gravitate toward the dining hall in the evenings. It had become a shared space for working, reading, or simply talking. Tonight was no different.
Dinner had been cleared away, and the group had splintered into smaller activities. While Neve and Emmrich had excused themselves for the evening, quoting cases and rituals, respectively, as the reasons, Davrin and Harding were by the fireplace, planning a trek through the Hinterlands. Bellara sat at the head of the table, her notebook open as she scribbled furiously, occasionally tossing out questions to Rook or muttering sentences under her breath. Rook, meanwhile, had claimed a spot next to her, nearer the fire, with Assan perched quietly behind her. She had taken an interest in the theoretical side of her magic lately, working her way through a stack of treatises that Emmrich had eagerly provided. Lucanis had to admit, her grasp of magical theory had grown impressive -far beyond anything a Crow would be taught. And it was obvious she really enjoyed the academics, her face lighting up when talking magic with Neve and Emmrich. Or even dissecting those contraptions with Bellara. Being a Crow had been a prison for her. The two women were now quietly discussing amongst themselves.
“No,” Taash interjected, refusing to let the conversation drop. “I mean, like, with a finger, poking someone to disrupt the rhythm of their blood flow.”
Lucanis exhaled, setting his letters aside. “That sounds far more complicated than using a dagger.”
“True, but sometimes you need to take someone out quietly, right? Incapacitate them without leaving a trace. Or make it look natural.”
“That’s what poisons are for. But,” he immediately regretted entertaining the topic, “there are hand-to-hand combat styles that use pressure points to take down an enemy.” Folding his arms, he leaned back in his chair, resigning himself to the inevitable spiral this conversation was about to take.
“Oh! Now we are talking!” The Qunari shot upright.
“They’re mainly used in self-defense,” Lucanis explained, “to disarm someone, for example. Or to quickly take someone out. They are not that useful in heat of a battle. But one-on-one, they could mean a quick victory.”
Taash’s enthusiasm had caught the attention of Davrin and Harding, who glanced over from their spot by the fire, now tuned into the conversation.
“Can you show me?” Taash leaned their chair precariously forward, balancing on two legs.
“You planning to disarm dragons with those moves, Taash?” Davrin quipped, earning a burst of giggles from Harding.
“Can you imagine,” Harding wheezed, “a dragon on its knees because you tickled the right spot?”
Taash waved them off with a rude gesture. “We’ve been fighting more than just dragons lately. You never know when it might come in handy.” Turning back to Lucanis, they fixed him with an eager stare. “You did promise to show me some Crow tricks, so... time for a practical lesson.”
Lucanis chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, I did promise that.”
“Oh, this is going to be good.” Davrin sauntered over to the cupboard and grabbed a beer, grinning. “Lucanis taking down Taash? I wouldn’t miss this.”
“No, no, I actually want to learn something,” Taash protested, putting all four chair legs back on the ground. “I won’t pick anything up if I’m knocked out cold. You can demonstrate on Davrin instead, Lucanis.”
“Over my dead body, Crow,” Davrin shot back immediately, pointing his beer bottle at Lucanis before he could even voice his refusal. He raised his hands in acceptance. But the Warden’s defiant expression quickly shifted to something more mischievous. He nudged Harding with a knowing look, before speaking up:
“Hey, Rook! Care to lend a hand here?”
Rook glanced up abruptly from her conversation with Bellara. “With what, exactly?”
Lucanis, catching on to Davrin’s scheme, groaned.
“Taash is interested in becoming a Crow.” Harding replied.
Rook shot a puzzled look at Bellara, who simply shrugged. Clearly neither of them had been paying attention.
“Lucanis wants to show off a few moves,” Davrin explained with a grin. “But he needs a volunteer. You’ve had enough practice as a Crow yourself, haven’t you?” She just blinked at that. “Yes?” “Well then, both of you, show us those fabled Crow training techniques.”
“Just get over here already, Rook!” Taash cut through the chatter, clearly growing impatient. “And bring that spoon.”
Harding giggled from the sidelines, pulling Bellara closer to her and prompting a smug smirk from Davrin. Meanwhile, Taash remained oblivious to the silent game the pair seemed to be playing. And Lucanis made a mental note to add triple the amount of Taash’s peppers to next evening’s soup.
Rook glanced back to Davrin and Harding, sighed in resignation, grabbed the spoon, and approached Lucanis and Taash. Her head tilted slightly as she regarded Lucanis with a questioning look. He shrugged apologetically.
“Right”, Taash instructed, gesturing dramatically. “First, disarming. Rook, attack him!”
“With the spoon?”
Lucanis muttered a curse under his breath and stepped forward. Gently but firmly, he took Rook’s arm and adjusted it, lifting it into a stance as though she were about to stab him. He tried to ignore the amused quirk of her lips -and the unwelcome warmth blooming in his chest. So close to. Rook. He forced himself to focus, recalling his training. She was their leader, and a fellow Crow. A de Riva, Viago would lynch him, Caterina’s heir or not.
“Like this.” Lucanis shifted his stance, his boots making a soft scrape on the stone floor as he anchored his weight. He stepped into Rook’s space with precision. His hand gripped her wrist with practiced ease, and in a smooth motion, he twisted her arm downward and to the side. The spoon clattered to the floor with a hollow ring, the sound cutting through the muted chatter of the room. The sudden twist forced Rook to her knees, her arm following the motion as though caught in an unseen current.
Lucanis’ hand remained steady on her wrist, guiding her back to her feet with a gentle pull that spoke of years of training. He retrieved the spoon from the ground, and handed it back to her.
“You went too fast,” Taash complained, leaning in. “I barely saw what you did.”
“There’s a reason,” Lucanis replied, taking Rook’s arm again, “the element of surprise plays to your advantage.” He turned it palm-up. “Here,” he said, tracing the delicate lines of her wrist, making a mental note of the scars that lined her wrist, “just below the pulse point, toward the center.” His fingertips brushed her skin lightly as he searched for the spot.
He risked a glance at Rook. Her gaze was fixed on her hand, her expression unreadable. But her cheeks where a tint darker than before. When he found the point, he pressed firmly with two fingers. Rook’s hand opened reflexively, and the spoon slipped from her grasp once more.
“Sorry,” he murmured with a faintly apologetic smile as he noticed her wince.
Meanwhile, Taash was practically on top of them, mimicking his motions on their own hand with rapt concentration. They nodded along as if committing each detail to memory.
Lucanis moved Rook in front of him again, motioning her to take an attacking stance again. She nodded to indicate she understood the plan. So, when he moved in again to disarm her, she blocked him with a twist of her own. One foot planted firmly on the ground, she kept a hold of the spoon this time, even managing to tap him on the shoulder with it. Whatever she had said about her skills before, she knew how to hold her ground in a fight. “Oh, element of surprise, now I get it.”
“If that was all-” Rook made to walk away, but Taash grabbed her shoulder. “No, not done yet.” Rook glanced longingly to her papers. “I was busy with something though…” Taash turned to face Lucanis again.
“Now, how to take someone out.” Taash ignored Rook’s sputtering objection: “Excuse me, what?!”
“There are multiple ways…”
“Yeah, yeah,” Taash interrupted. “The most effective one.”
Lucanis sighed, slipping into the cadence of his old lessons. “If your goal is to buy time, there is a stranglehold that is really effective.”
“Choking someone takes too long.” The Qunari cut in.
“There’s a difference between a choke and a strangle. And it’s a bit safer if your intent is not to kill but incapacitate someone.”
He glanced at Rook as he spoke. She had taken a step back, crossing her arms, a knowing look on her face. Lucanis caught her gaze and managed a small, brief smile before forcing himself to look away.
“A choke cuts off airflow, which usually means crushing the windpipe. Messy and risky.”
Rook arched an eyebrow but said nothing. She seemed to know where this lesson was leading.
“Strangling,” he went on, “is different. It blocks blood flow or targets specific nerves, cutting off oxygen to the brain and causing unconsciousness. A sharp blow to the neck can do the trick, but it’s less refined. Precision,” he said, “is about blocking the main arteries.”
Taash’s gaze stayed fixed on him, unrelenting. “Go on,” they urged.
Lucanis hesitated, glancing over at Rook. “Ah… Rook?” He started. And before Rook could raise her concerns, Taash waved a hand dismissively. “She’ll be fine. You said so yourself, if the intent is not to kill, remember?” Of course they’d pay attention when killing was involved.
Rook gave him a long look, her eyes narrowing with clear apprehension. “Remind me to never let you make promises to Taash again”, she said dryly.
Lucanis tilted his head, silently asking the question. She held his gaze for a moment before relenting with a shrug. “Fine. But I’m sitting down for this. I’m not faceplanting on these stones. Viago, at least, was kind enough to have us practice in a grass field.”
He chuckled at her comment. “Never took Viago for such a sap.”
Rook shook her head and lowered herself to a nearby chair, muttering something under her breath that Lucanis couldn’t quite catch. He thought her heard her say: “…in the middle of winter, on frozen ground...” That was more like the Viago he knew. Taash, meanwhile, leaned forward eagerly, waiting for the demonstration to begin.
Lucanis took a moment to collect himself before stepping in front of her. She looked up at him, a nervous flicker in her eyes, her lips drawn to a thin line. The disarming was one thing… Movements they would emulate in battle.
His hand brushed against her neck, fingers sliding with practiced ease to the hollow just below her jaw. He angled her chin upward gently and their eyes locked. How he could get lost in that deep blue. Rook smells of. Fire and ashes… For the love of- not now, Spite! He pushed the demon back down.
“First, find the pulse at the throat,” he instructed, suppressing his inner turmoil, pressing two fingers lightly against the side of her neck where he could feel the rhythmic beat. Her pulse quickened under his fingers, the slight hitch in her breathing betraying her composure. She broke eye contact and glanced downward, her gaze fixed on the ground. Lucanis pushed aside the fluttering in his own chest, focusing on the task at hand.
“Then, locate the same spot on the other side with your thumb,” he explained, shifting his hand to demonstrate. He moved aside slightly, so Taash could take a closer look.
From the corner of his eye, Lucanis saw Harding lean toward Bellara, whispering something that made Bellara slap a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. Her wide eyes darted toward them, and Davrin’s booming laughter quickly followed.
Rook, flustered, brandished her spoon at the group like a weapon. “You’re lucky I don’t skin you with this,” she muttered. Davrin winked at her. She huffed in reply.
Lucanis coughed into his free hand to regain focus. “Now, with the remaining fingers, you apply pressure to the nerve at the base of the jaw, just under the ear -here.” He adjusted his hold, his fingers digging in slightly. Even this light pressure made Rook hiss slightly, trying to move away from the pressure. Taash leaned in to take a look, humming in understanding.
“Don’t see much immobilizing yet! Is the tactic to bore your opponent?” Davrin called from his spot by the fire.
“Yeah, Lucanis,” Harding added, her grin devilish. “Stop stalling. Just show us already. You can explain after.” Taash nodded eagerly, clearly in full agreement.
Maker, they’re enjoying this far too much, Lucanis thought grimly. He glanced down at Rook, tilting his head in silent inquiry. He had been stalling. But not for whatever reasons Davrin was so keen on implying. This would hurt. He’d be overloading her senses, the feeling of a sledgehammer to the head. She met his gaze with a steady look, then sighed and gave him a small, resigned nod before closing her eyes. He felt her relax as her own training took over, her breathing slowing. She would have been taught to not resist, not to panic. Still, there was no threat of cane or blade here. They were among… friends? Who had worrying interests, sure, but, friends nonetheless. She could say no, he would understand. The goading of the others, he could deflect that for her if needed. She had nothing to prove. Rook. Trusts us. To catch her. Spite piped up again. Did she?
He couldn’t afford to linger on the quiet strength in her eyes -or how easily she trusted him, even now.
Adjusting his grip for a final time, he pressed down, practiced and quick. Her pulse, which had been fast but steady, now faltered -skipping beats and racing unpredictably. Her breathing hitched at that sensation, a brief gasp escaping her lips. Within moments, her body went completely limp.
As she began to collapse forward, unconscious, Lucanis released the hold and caught her easily, keeping her upright. He eased her back, carefully, supporting her as she began to stir.
Rook blinked rapidly, her vision clearing as the disorientation ebbed. Her hand went to her throat, massaging the tender spot with a grimace. A soft curse escaped her lips as she rubbed her head groggily. Maker’s breath, I forgot how unpleasant that feels,” she muttered, her voice rasping slightly.
“Breathe, you’re fine”, Lucanis murmured, his voice low and apologetic. He kept his fingers at her neck, monitoring her pulse until it slowed and steadied once more. Only when he was satisfied she truly was fine, did he let go.
Lucanis stepped back as Taash clapped their hands together. “That. Was. Incredible,” they said, eyes alight with fascination. “Show it again, slower!” Rook raised a hand in weak protest at that. “Find another practice dummy. I am out.” Lucanis agreed: “Once is plenty.” Taash turned to the others. “Davrin?” “I already said no, and after that? I’m staying well out of arms reach, Lucanis!”
Taash slouched back in their chair, sulking briefly before Harding came over and whispered something in their ear. Whatever she said brought an immediate spark to Taash’s eyes, and a wide grin spread across their face. Moments later, the pair excused themselves, leaving the room with an air of conspiratorial excitement.
Bellara wasn’t far behind. She gathered her notebook and pens, offering a soft “Good night” and a cheerful wave before slipping out into the hallway.
Rook returned to the table, intent on her papers, but her focus faltered. With an irritated sigh, she began gathering the scattered sheets, muttering under her breath. She tapped Assan, who had remained by her chair, and the gryphon stretched before bounding after her. Together, they settled by the fireplace. Rook sank onto the floor, scratching Assan behind the ears as the gryphon let out a low, contented rumble. Her gaze drifted to the flickering flames, but her shoulders betrayed her unease, despite the warmth of the fire washing over her.
From deep within, Spite stirred, its voice curling like smoke in Lucanis’ mind. The demon muttered a pointed complaint about the audacity of hurting Rook, followed by an insistence that he should “make it up to her.” Lucanis clenched his jaw, pushing Spite’s grumbling aside with the mental equivalent of a weary hand wave. He refocused on the half-finished letters scattered across the table, their words blurring together under the flickering firelight.
Across the room, Davrin lounged in his chair, swirling the remnants of his drink. His gaze lingered on Lucanis, then drifted to Rook, a sly, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well,” he drawled, setting his bottle down with deliberate ease, “time for me to find some rest. Assan, coming, boy?”
The gryphon, who had been nestled comfortably beside Rook, gave a soft, reluctant whine and nudged her arm before rising to follow. Rook smiled faintly, her hand brushing the creature’s feathers in farewell as Davrin and Assan slipped out of the room. The door closed with a quiet thud, leaving Lucanis and Rook alone in the flickering warmth of the hearth.
Rook raised a hand in a lazy wave as Davrin disappeared, then pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. Her gaze remained fixed on the fire, the light dancing across her face in warm, flickering hues. The soft crackle of the flames filled the silence.
Lucanis sighed, his attention drifting from the unfinished letters to the quiet figure by the fire. Abandoning the task for the second time that evening, he pushed his chair back and rose. A quick glance confirmed Rook hadn’t moved, her focus lost in the flames. He crossed the room, his footsteps soft against the stone, and rummaged through their modest stores, pulling out a bottle of wine and two mismatched glasses.
He returned to the hearth, lowering himself carefully to the floor beside her. She blinked, glancing in his direction, an inquisitive eyebrow raised as he extended one of the glasses toward her.
“A peace offering,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Rook tilted her head, studying him for a moment before reaching for the glass. The faintest smile curved her lips as she took it, her gaze lingering on him with quiet curiosity. And here you were calling Viago a sap for having us collapse in a grass field. Now you’re offering me wine. What will the other houses think of your training methods, Dellamorte?
Her words held a teasing edge, but there was an underlying bitterness, an old wound barely scabbed over. He didn’t rise to the bait, instead lifting his own glass toward her.
“Let this be my vow to never entertain Taash’s fantasies again.” Rook barked a short laugh. “You have no idea the kind of ideas you’ve inspired in Harding and Taash, do you?” Lucanis blinked, caught off guard. “I- what?” Rook stared at him in disbelief. “You really don’t know? How close those two have gotten?” When he gave her nothing but a blank stare, she laughed again. Then it clicked. “Oh, mierda.”
“Forget the wine,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Watching you put that together was worth all of it.”
“I do apologize if I hurt you.”
She shook her head. “Honestly, my idea of normal is probably a little warped.” She leaned back on her arms, letting the fire’s warmth seep into her. “But I know you never meant to hurt me. I’m serious though- no promising things to Taash without running it by me first.” She gave him a playful shake of her glass. “Grandson of the First Talon or not, I had no trouble telling Viago off. I’ll start doing it with you too. As far as everyone’s concerned, I’m still the leader here.”
There was no bite to her words, her smile soft and open as she locked eyes with him. In the depths of her gaze, the blue was filled with trust.
“Then I will gracefully defer to our great leader,” Lucanis said, inclining his head before taking a sip.
A comfortable silence settled between the two of them as the flames slowly burned down to embers.