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Leaning against the counter in the Lighthouse’s kitchen, Neve Gallus took a sip of her coffee. It left an overly bitter taste on her tongue – venhedis, I probably burnt it again – yet she only spared the thought a flutter of a notion. Instead, her attention was focused on their ragtag team’s nearly dwarf-sized elven ‘leader’. Even without their shared experiences – what with killing an elven god or two – Malais was a very interesting person. The apotheosis of a Lord of Fortune, seeking both glory and gold. Perhaps a bit too hard, sometimes, but Neve was not one to judge. She breathed her work and felt it settle in her bones every morning like a cozy memory.
It had been a couple of weeks since the final battle for Minrathous and the future of Thedas, and it seemed not everyone had come to terms with leaving their temporary home permanently. Malais was among them, continuing to haunt the halls of the Lighthouse, eavesdropping on conversations and poking their head in places like nothing had changed. Like the fight for the morrow had never reached its conclusion. Perhaps it never had.
Even now, when the indefinable sanctuary held a third its population, Malais had taken up residence in the kitchen. Where the detective just so happened to be taking a break from her work.
“So…” Neve started, voice a teasing lilt,
“I heard a new nickname floating around the lighthouse.”
‘New’ was a bit of a misnomer. She’d heard the epithet and clocked its purpose well before their battle for the end, and had already questioned the appropriate parties. But now that things had calmed down, Neve finally found her chance to try and get a blush out of the elf. It was half-hearted at best – everyone already knew he’d gotten with Taash, after all – but Neve simply could not let the opportunity to tease about a pet name come to pass.
It was normal. It was mundane. It was relaxing.
“Oh?” Malais spoke up, lifting his head from where he’d been inspecting the sketched out design of a Vinsomer. Their lips had been pursed in contemplation originally, examining it from several angles, scrutinizing every angle of the design. It looked right, but… Taash was the real expert on dragons. Maybe he should have them give it a once over – or maybe, because this was a tattoo-to-be, there should be some artistic liberties at play?
… No. Definitely not. No doubt seeing it would bother Taash. Like wearing jewelry just a shade too light or dark.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a word in the trade language for ‘Taarala’, would you? I’ve been hearing Taash call you that a lot lately.” Taash had readily divulged the meaning, so if Malais lied and tried to cover it up, Neve would know. But she firmly believed that she had Malais clocked well enough to know that he wasn’t the kind to try and lie about something like that.
His eyes immediately broke contact with Neve’s, drifting back to the dragon sketch. A small smile graced his lips, reflected threefold in his eyes, and he scratched the back of his neck with a little laugh – gaze never leaving the table’s surface.
“I may! And it might be because Taash and I are kind of seeing each other.” He drew out the ‘might’ as he spoke, leaving it heavy and suggestive, hanging in the air. Their smile broadened slightly at the thought of their partner, eyes crinkling at the edges, as Neve huffed out a laugh through her nose. ‘Kind of’, indeed.
“In for the long haul, then.”
Malais’ eyes flicked back to Neve’s, brows raising slightly – clearly thinking something good. He gave a little nod, then seemed to think better of his response and opened his mouth. Their eyes flicked over to the kitchen’s door for a brief second.
“That’s the hope.”
She didn’t miss the way Malais didn’t provide the word. He probably already knew that she already knew.
“I’m happy for you and Taash.” She spoke, a sincerity to her words rarely afforded to most praises as she approached him, taking a seat to his left. Malais beamed in kind, angling the sketch slightly for the detective to appraise it.
It was exquisitely detailed, yet simple enough that it would work perfectly as a tattoo. One story among the many that were inked against Malais’ skin. The sketch had been signed as well, but the signature was one she did not recognize, beautifully scrawled but borderline indecipherable. Practiced, at least, so whoever Malais had commissioned was no amateur.
“Fancy signature.” She murmured, tracing her finger just under it. She had to be careful not to smudge the actual drawing – Malais would probably steal her leg in her sleep if she ruined it. And she didn’t bring spares this go around.
“It wouldn’t happen to be someone from Minrathous, would it? Maybe our Rook is looking to bolster Dock Town’s recovering economy?”
Malais’ answering laugh was a clear ‘no’.
“Nah, tattoo artist from the Lords. He bragged about drawing, and I quote, ‘immaculately spectacular dragons’, so I got him to put his pencil where his mouth is.”
“And did he?”
“Draw with a pencil in his mouth? Nope. But he whipped up the sketch in a week ish.”
Neve hummed in response, glancing back at Malais. He was staring at the sketch again, eyes sparkling. Oh, the beauty of youthful excitement.
This wasn’t just any dragon – it had to be special in some regard for it to receive such careful scrutiny, and a lifetime on a contemporary canvas. They were sentimental like that.
“This is the first dragon you and Taash hunted together, isn’t it? Marking the occasion of your meet-up? Or… anniversary?”
Somehow under the Rivaini tan, the faintest flush dusted Malais’ cheeks. Instead of bashful, however, he was giddy. Not that Neve anticipated them to be ashamed – that was one word that was oddly absent from the vocabulary of the Lords of Fortune as an entity.
“Sure is. And we’re going on a dragon lair glory hunt after all of this.” If Malais had a tail, no doubt it would be wagging right now. The excitement infected Neve as well, and her smile widened a fraction of an inch.
“It’s nice. To… have plans for the future, you know?”
“It is.”
Neveknew it well. The idea that Dock Town could be fixed – could have a future – was still a fresh, sweet taste on Neve’s lips. Like a first kiss, or an oven-fresh Gooseberry pie, or fish from Hal’s stand. Same level of temptation.
“And fingers crossed there will be a treasure pile for us to make out on top of in there.”
She laughed, just as the kitchen door swung open to announce the presence of a third body.
“That does sound pretty nice. I bet Isabela’d get pretty jealous too.”
Neve could have burst out cackling, lifting her mug in greeting. There was no way Taash had planned that kind of impeccable timing – considering their immediate reaction to danger was yelling ‘hey’ – but it was so perfect that she would have suspected quite literally anyone else, save Fred, of eavesdropping.
Malais, to his benefit, turned into a puppy. His excitement rivaled a toddler hyped up on sugar, using one hand to push off the table to spin around on his stool. Even the back of his neck seemed to glow with elation.
She quickly hid her own smile behind another sip of coffee, content to watch herself be momentarily forgotten as the two lovebirds quickly tangled themselves together in a melody of jingling jewelry and flashy colours, Malais wrapping his arms around Taash’s neck while they hoisted him up to their height. His legs dangled for only a few seconds before wrapping around Taash’s midsection, effectively clinging to the other Lord.
What a pair. Now was the chance for Neve to make her grand escape, and find her own awkward mess of an assassin.
She was gone by the time Taash and Malais broke their kiss. He laughed, they gave a smile, and the two of them pressed their foreheads together. Malais cocked their head to the side, smiling slightly, and what laid behind him on the table caught Taash’s attention.
“That drawing’s wrong. Her wings are the wrong shape.”
“Really? You’re going to have to give me full details, Treasure, so I can tell Inkblot just how wrong he got it.”
And what followed was a very thorough explanation of the different wing shapes across a multitude of dragons.