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Viago’s day was going fine, all things considered. Sure, they’re busy because of all the recent attacks, the city is still under occupation, and his idiot is out there running around with the Dellamorte boy and a bunch of idiots, but since none of that affected his lunch, he was having an alright time.
And then Rook had to saunter right on up to him with Lucanis and some attractive older man Viago had yet to meet in tow. Covered in gold. Suspect choice of staff. Necromancer.
“Hey, Dad!” Rook greets in his usual excitable manner. “This is Emmrich. We were talking about your art collection, and he showed some interest.” Oh?
“Yes, well. I had mentioned seeing the painting above your fireplace when Rook came for a resupply of his poisons. It’s rare to see an authentic Rossoletto.” Viago eyes him, taking in every detail. Blatantly attractive. Fifty, perhaps sixty years old. Clearly has good taste in wardrobe and has an eye for art.
“It is.” He shouldn’t since he knows next to nothing about this man, but since Rook is hopeless with art and Viago wants to talk about it with someone with more than basic platitudes to say about it, he lets himself get drawn into the conversation.
He’d gotten a letter. One that Rook had lied to Viago in about needing his presence in the Lighthouse like the little shit he is. An emergency on paper turned into tea with the Necromancer and his surprisingly palpable undead servant. Sure, Viago wasn’t exactly comfortable with an animated skeleton, but he did know how to make pretty good tea. Now he just needs to figure out how to subtlety poison someone and he’ll be good.
Emmrich should teach it to be a little less trusting, though. It’s going to get itself killed like this.
“I should apologize.” Emmrich states into the silence long after Rook has abandoned them to do whatever he’s doing with that Dellamorte outside. “I fear Rook is attempting to force the two of us into a relationship.” Viago’s eyes narrow at the Necromancer. “I’m certain you’re preoccupied with your work and would prefer Rook stop dragging you into these meetings.”
“It’s how Rook is.” Viago states. “He’s always been like that since childhood.” He sips his tea, disappointed that no one in this place has enough forethought to poison their own food and drink to build up an immunity. He knows he taught Rook better than that.
“Still. It’s inappropriate to call you out here just to have tea with me.”
“I needed a break anyway.” Viago will be cold and dead in the ground long before he admits that his asshole of a ward knows when Viago needs to take some time off better than he does. “Besides, I’m wanted to ask you about some of the plants in the Necropolis that could be used to make poisons.” Emmrich’s eyes light up in a way that only serves to confuse Viago’s emotions.
“Certainly! I’d be pleased to discuss the topic!” Oh, he’s into botany too. It’s not even a rare skill. Why does that make his confusion worse?
Viago wasn’t expecting company, let alone Emmerich coming to him alone to him to ask some questions about a case the Necromancer was working on. Viago would admit that while he’s not sure about the dead waking up to chat when they should have been burned and scattered, he can see the utility in it. It could be useful for his research to know exactly how a poison affects someone before they die in ways that he just can’t get with an autopsy alone.
“Emmrich.” Viago interrupts. “I’m more than willing to help with your murder investigation, but I’d like to ask for your assistance in my research in return.”
“Your research into poisons, I assume?” He doesn’t even seem bothered by the interruption. He’s patient. Viago likes that in a partner.
Where in the Maker’s Black City did that thought come from? He’s not into men. He’s barely even into women and even then Teia was the exception.
“Yes.” He can worry about his thoughts later. For now, he has a deal to strike and irony to revel in.
Viago sets his newly acquired plants gently to the side in his workshop before stalking over to the window, throwing it and the heavy curtains open and gripping the wood beneath his hands angrily. Why does he have to deal with all of these emotions like this? Why is he the only one feeling so out of sorts because of the intelligent, obviously attractive Necromancer he would consider an ally? Why can’t he get Emmrich out of his head?
Taking his gloves off and changing into a fresh pair, Viago rubs at his face. Maybe he should just try to forget about the older man. It would be better for his sanity.
Viago should really start avoiding Rook. Not only is the elf the reason he has this mass off confusion in his chest, but now he’s stuck in this room with a man he’d planned on avoiding until his stupid, unreasonable feelings went away all because his idiot decided they needed to talk. Viago sighs and finds a chair to contemplate his imprisonment in. At least his cell-mate is hot.
Groaning, he regrets everything ever.
“It would seem we’re stuck until we do as Rook wishes.” Why does he have to state the obvious? “So. I will begin, and if you choose to continue I’ll be here to listen.”
Viago keeps his eyes on the Necromancer as the prim and proper man takes a seat across from him. “I have feelings for you.” What. Why? “Romantic ones. However, I will not act on anything that would make you uncomfortable. I understand if you don’t reciprocate my emotions, and will abide whatever status you deem appropriate for our relationship, ongoing or otherwise.”
Emmrich waits patiently for Viago to come up with an answer even as Viago’s mind races. Emmrich has feelings for him. He won’t do anything Viago doesn’t want. So the question is, what does Viago want?
Turning his scowl to the patient, competent man with him, Viago wonders if he should even bother saying anything. Then again, this is the man he’s spent several nights talking about plants, applications of Necromancy, and the life of a Crow with just because it happened to come up.
“I don’t know.” Viago ends up admitting, knowing he’s going to let himself continue on for a while just to get everything off his chest. “I don’t know what I feel for you. I don’t know why being with you makes this stupid mess of emotion engulf my chest. I don’t know why I can’t get you out of my head when I have no reason to be this fascinated by you.” He continues on as he watches the Necromancer’s reactions. Emmrich is surprised. He must not think himself an attractive partner.
By the time Viago finishes his tired, Emmrich’s blushing and Viago can’t pull his eyes away from it. “I see…” He doesn’t sound disappointed at least. “Well… To me it sounds like you’ve also have feelings for me and you choose to delude yourself into confusion.”
Viago doesn’t know how to react to that, but he knows it feels right to him. “Fine. Maybe I do have feelings for you.” He grumbles. :I just don’t know what I want from it.”
Emmrich softens, smiling in a way that only worsens the love in his chest. “And that’s alright dearest.” Dearest?! He… Doesn’t hate it as much as he feels he should. “It’s fine to take time and figure things out. For now, why don’t we discuss boundaries and what each of us would like from each other?” That seems reasonable.
Viago wakes slowly with fingers running through his curly hair and feeling more soothed than he can ever remember. There’s a warmth at his side and the crackle of a fire nearby. This is nice.
He startles, jumping up. When did he fall asleep and who was touching him? Has he been poisoned? He doesn’t feel anything but that doesn’t rule out the possibility.
“Forgive me, dearest.” Right. Right, he’s with Emmrich. “I didn’t mean to scare you, it’s just that you seemed to be stressed in your sleep and you relaxed somewhat with my touch.”
Racing heart slowing, Viago settles back in his place snuggled into Emmrich’s side. Emmrich’s here. He’s safe. They triple checked everything together. He can relax.
Leaning his head against Emmrich, Viago lets himself drift back to sleep with soothing fingers resuming their work.