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It was purely the convenience of it, Emmrich convinced himself at the start. He had overheard Lucanis mutter under his breath about running low on paprika when he had gone to the Lighthouse’s pantry after Harding had let him know she had left the orange blossoms she’d procured for his tea to dry there.
He wasn’t eavesdropping, it truly wasn’t his fault that the man had chosen the pantry of all places as his bedroom. True, he had hesitated for a second just behind the door with a small involuntary amused smile at Lucanis’ exasperated mutter, before knocking and being let in, but it was just polite to make sure he wasn’t having a private conversation with Spite before barging in.
Convenience then, he reasoned the next day, was why he was currently eyeing the various spice stalls in a corner of Treviso’s Grande Market that had been blessedly spared the brunt of the dragon attack and the blight with a critical eye, before choosing the one that seemed to sell the most fragrant and high quality paprika. The most expensive too. But once again he reasoned; he had seen the vast Dellamorte villa, and surely Lucanis was used to only using the best of the best when it came to ingredients, and given how delectable the food Lucanis prepared for everyone in the Lighthouse always was, he was certain he continued to use only the best in their base of operations within the Fade.
One thing he couldn’t reason, however, was the sudden spark of nervousness he felt when he knocked on the pantry’s door when he, Rook and Davrin returned from Treviso later that day.
“Tea Leaves. Parchment And Ink!”, even muffled behind the door, Spite’s voice was easily recognizable to Emmrich.
He smiled as he heard the put-upon sigh of Lucanis as the Crow said louder “Come in, Emmrich.”
“I hope I am not intruding?” he said as he opened the door and stepped inside, seeing Lucanis sorting through some of the pantry’s baskets, an assortment of vegetables in his arms, his long hair tied up in a bun. Getting prepared to cook dinner he presumed.
“No, you’re not, did you need anything?” Lucanis said absentmindedly, seeming focused on the task at hand.
“Ah,” Emmrich cleared his throat before continuing, “I had noticed we were running low on certain spices, I might have heard you mention it at the very least, so… since Rook had asked me to accompany him to Treviso earlier today, I thought it would be most convenient if I were-”
“Smells. Of Paprika?” Spite interrupted him, the spirit’s voice close to his ear, an unmistakable presence by him, a gentle sort of static.
And by the subtle twitch in Lucanis’ right eye as he turned to look at a spot just over Emmrich’s left shoulder, he could surmise where Spite was currently located.
“Paprika, yes. Very good Spite! Do remember to allow others to finish their sentences before speaking up, as it’s only polite…” He said lightly, smiling fondly when he heard Spite grumble and felt his presence leave his side.
Emmrich presented to Lucanis the generously sized pouch filled with the spice that he had been carrying, “I hope I managed to buy the right one that you are most familiar with using?”
That spark of strange nervousness returned when he watched Lucanis gingerly take the bag in hand, both his eyebrows raising as he inspected the seller’s mark on the pouch’s outside, he opened it and peered at the bright red spice powder inside it.
“This is…” Lucanis blinked and closed the pouch before looking up at Emmrich with a bewildered look. “Thank you Emmrich, you didn’t have to go out of your way to buy from the most expensive spice stall in Treviso though.”
Emmrich waved his hand dismissively, feeling a small flush color his cheeks as he said “Nonsense, my boy. If what you’ve been using when cooking such wonderful meals for us wasn’t the best you could get your hands on, then I can only imagine what you will be able to conjure up by using even finer ingredients.”
The nervousness was replaced by a pleasant warmth in his chest as he watched Lucanis crack a bashful smile and shake his head, turning to store the paprika pouch alongside the other spices in one of the pantry’s shelves, “Alright, well, do you have any requests for dinner then? Something I can use this paprika in.”
Emmrich wasn’t sure he could convince himself it was convenient this time around, but surely it was useful?
He picked a vial of leather oil from the selection in the leatherworker’s stall, the vendor otherwise occupied with repairing a badly damaged pair of bracers, inspecting the label on it and looking over at the other vials, a range of different oil types for sale. He felt a little out of his depth.
“Get the mineral oil, mink oil is too heavy for your gear, and it’ll probably darken it.” he heard Rook’s pipe up suddenly next to him, making him startle and almost drop the bottle he was scrutinizing. The Shadow Dragon’s already soft steps having been further muffled by the bustle of Dock Town’s street market.
“Maker’s breath, Rook. You’re almost as bad as Lucanis, sneaking up to people like that,” he turned to the elf, straightening his posture and shaking his head in disapproval as he saw the laughter in Rook’s mischievous smile.
“Sorry, Emmrich.” Rook looked over at the oil selection in the stall, picking a small vial that had Mineral Oil written on it. “Here, this is probably what you’re looking for.”
“Ah… well, the oil isn’t for me,” Emmrich admitted.
He stopped himself from nervously fidgeting with his pointer finger’s ring when Rook raised an eyebrow at him.
“I figured, since I’m here, that I could pick up some leather oil for Lucanis, as a thanks for being willing to cook the Nevarran hazelnut torte recipe I gave him,” he explained, motioning with his hand to the oils on display.
There was a twitch at the corners of Rook’s mouth that looked suspiciously like he was fighting against his facial muscles not to smile, a glint of something delighted in his eyes as he said, “Oh, I see…”. It made Emmrich subtly narrow his eyes at the shorter man.
Rook turned back to the stall and returned the mineral oil to its place before continuing, “Well then the mink oil is just what you’re looking for, it’s what both me and Lucanis use for our gear.”
Emmrich let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his shoulders relaxing, “Thank you, Rook.”
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the thoughtful gift,” the elf grinned, giving him a wink and a nudge before catching sight of Neve and waving at her, leaving Emmrich’s side to go join the other mage.
He pretended he didn’t notice the two whispering to each other or their sharp gazes turning to him as he paid for the oil.
Lucanis was sitting on the Library’s green couch when they returned from Minrathous, tiredly nursing a cup of coffee on one hand and looking over what looked like a missive on the other.
Rook and Neve greeted him, the elf being urged out of the Library by an amused Neve rolling her eyes and giving her fellow Shadow Dragon a friendly slap on the shoulder when a real mischievous smile began to curl on his face, saying “C’mon Rook, you can help me sort through the evidence from that ritual murder case.”
Rook groaned, but said “Catch you guys later, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” as he left, puzzling Emmrich.
Lucanis watched them go, before looking over to the necromancer, who realized he was just standing there, foolishly silent.
“Emmrich.” Lucanis said in greeting, a glint of curiosity in his eyes.
Emmrich cleared his throat, realizing he was making a fool of himself, “Aha, yes! Hello Lucanis, I see you’re otherwise occupied, but here,” he said as he pulled the small bottle of mink oil from an inner pocket of his coat, presenting it to him with a small proud flourish of his hand. “My eye caught a stall in Dock Town selling some leather oil of decent quality, as I was perusing some for myself I figured I would bring you some as well.”
There was always a sort of feline nature to how Lucanis moved, whether at rest or during combat. It was no less so as he efficiently got up from the couch and approached Emmrich, movements measured and easy even in his apparent tiredness, steps as silent as said metaphorical predator. Emmrich tried not to frown at catching himself noticing this.
“Rook assured me this is the same type of oil you use.”
Silently Lucanis took the bottle in his hands, inspecting the simple label on it. His smile was a small thing, warming up his tired expression and making that warmth return to Emmrich’s chest.
“Thank you, Emmrich,” Lucanis stopped and chuckled, “I had actually been wanting to restock on the leather oil I use the next time I had chance to go to Treviso, but I’ve been putting it off as the Crow’s supplies have been spread thin as it were, so… thank you.”
“You are most welcome, Lucanis,” it pleased him greatly to extend even such a small gesture of kindness to the younger man, seeing some of the tension drain from him as he pocketed the bottle and looked up at Emmrich, a crooked smile on his face.
“Warm Cheeks. A Skip. Over Oil? There Is Oil. In The Pantry.” Spite’s voice sounded somewhere next to Lucanis, a curious tint to his usual abrasive tone.
“ Mierda , Spite. It’s not the same oil I use for my armor. Plus, that one is for cooking, and I’m not using my cooking oil on my boots.” Lucanis pinched the bridge of his nose and groused, turning back to his coffee and papers, leaving a pleased Emmrich to return to his own room.
“Bellara, is this yours?”
Emmrich had just gone down the stairs of the Library shortly after bidding goodnight to Bellara, and stopped in his tracks. The two of them had spent most of the day scouring Emmrich’s sizeable collection of books on the Fade for anything that might aid them in finding a way to predict where tears in the Veil would manifest in the Crossroads, and when they came mostly empty handed, Emmrich gently insisted that the young woman get some rest while he re-organized the small bit of chaos that their joint studying had made of his Laboratory’s desk.
He had quickly noticed that one of the books was Bellara’s, and with it in hand he followed after her to return it when he heard Lucanis’ voice.
“Oh, I… don’t think so? Nope, definitely not mine.”
Stepping to the side so he could see Lucanis properly, he felt himself immediately flush when he spotted a familiar pillow in the Crow’s hands.
“I’ve no idea how this got to my room, I don’t remember requesting any pillows or extra blankets from the Caretaker.”
Lucanis’ eyes locked on to Emmrich and the older man let out a nervous chuckle, “That would’ve been me, Lucanis. My apologies, I should have warned you, but you were out all day with Rook and Davrin.”
“That’s Why. It Smells Like. Him.” He heard Spite rumble, a pleased lilt to the spirit’s voice, his presence seeming to drape over his shoulders.
There was a hint of a blush on Lucanis’ cheeks. Or it could’ve been the warm lighting of the red braziers Rook had asked the Caretaker to switch the Lighthouse’s decoration to.
Bellara looked between the two men, a sort of realization in her face, like she was two pieces of a puzzle together. She grinned widely and announced, “Oh wow, look at the time. I should really be going to bed, lots to do tomorrow! Good night you two!”
Punctuating her departure with an exaggerated yawn, Bellara waved at them and made a quick exit.
“Hold on, Bellara-” Emmrich was cut off by the front double doors of the Library swinging shut. He sighed and looked down at the book he had in hands.
“You asked the Caretaker to give me extra pillows and blankets?”
Lucanis’ voice had him snapping his head back up, his blush returning as he smoothed the front of his waistcoat with one hand and tucked Bellara’s book under his other arm, “No. I… when last I was in the Necropolis, I picked them up from my apartment there to bring to my room in the Lighthouse. I brought more than I truly needed, and it has always pained me to see the bare cot you sleep in, Lucanis. I figured you deserved some extra comfort.”
He couldn’t help but notice the way Lucanis’ hold on the pillow in his hands tightened, his hands clenching on the soft fabric during Emmrich’s explanation.
“Emmrich… I appreciate the sentiment. But I can’t accept it,” Lucanis’ grip on the soft emerald green pillow relaxed as he sighed and he offered it back to Emmrich, “The cot is like that by design. So I have a harder time falling asleep, and Spite can’t walk me through one of the eluvians.”
Emmrich frowned, he opened his mouth to retort, but Spite cut him off before he uttered a single word.
“If We Keep The Pillow. I Won’t Leave.” The spirit’s voice sounded almost eager in his own way, and the presence draped around his shoulders that Emmrich knew meant he was close by him, enveloped him more fully, almost like a clinging hug.
“Spite…” Lucanis grumbled through clenched teeth, the color in his cheeks deepening more noticeably now. Even in the red firelight of the Library, Emmrich found it looked quite endearing in him.
“I Won’t. We. Won’t. I Like Emmrich’s Scent. The Pillow Smells Like. Him.” Spite’s voice was very matter-of-fact, as if he found that his logic was sound and obvious, it made Emmrich smile and chuckle quietly.
“How can I even trust that you’ll stay put just for a pillow and some blankets?” The Crow’s voice was equal parts bewildered, confused and embarrassed, and it made Emmrich want to soothe his worries with a fierce intensity that surprised even him.
“Now, Lucanis. I believe Spite may be offering you a deal, and I would hope you’ll accept it and trust him. I think we both know how much you need a good night’s rest.”
Lucanis huffed, but tucked the pillow closer to himself, making Emmrich’s smile grow more pleased. “A deal, alright.”
To Emmrich’s surprise, he felt more than heard a deep rumbling purr coming from Spite, and the presence clinging to him slipped away. Presumably returning back to his host by the way Lucanis’ eyes tracked the spirits' unseen movement.
“But if I wake up with Taash putting me in a headlock down at the eluvian room, I’m blaming this on you, Emmrich.” A crooked half-smile curled on Lucanis’ face as he shook his head, that delightful blush still high on his cheeks.
Emmrich figured it was time to stop kidding himself about his little gift-giving mission with regards to Lucanis. He was cognizant enough about himself and his feelings to realize that this was more than simply him extending to Lucanis the same kindness and thoughtfulness the Crow had shown for Emmrich and the rest of the team.
As he stared at the bag of coffee beans sitting on his laboratory’s desk, Emmrich admitted to himself that he was suffering from the most embarrassing of maladies; he had a crush on Lucanis. Embarrassing because he wasn’t planning on doing anything about it, painfully aware of his age and of the fact that Lucanis likely had much more interesting romantic prospects in his life than an aging necromancer.
“You truly are an old fool, Volkarin.” He muttered to himself as he leaned with both of his hands on his desk, still staring at the fragrant bag in front of him.
With a sigh he pushed himself to a properly upright position, smoothing out any wrinkles on his waistcoat and picking up the bag of coffee beans in his hands. He turned on his heel and strode out of his Laboratory, trying to rationalize his actions once again.
Just because he had no intentions of acting on his romantic interests in the Crow, it didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge himself by still showering Lucanis in gifts. Especially when he had managed to find a coffee bean supplier that still had a supply of what he knew was one of Lucanis’ favorite roasts. The tragedy that had befallen Treviso had taken much from the people of the city, and supplies were being rationed, increasingly sticking to the essentials. Coffee had become a hard to find luxury, especially the more high-end brands Lucanis preferred.
He was sure Lucanis would appreciate a little reminder of the Treviso the Crow still carried untainted in his heart, even if it was simply in the familiar smell of a warm cup of coffee. And if Emmrich earned one of the man’s charming crooked smiles in return, the ones that made his heart skip and soar, to tuck away in his memory for his lonelier days… then it was no one else’s business but his own.
“Ah, Lucanis! I was hoping I’d find you here.” Said man looked up from where he was sitting in a chair by the dining hall’s roaring fireplace. With a swell of fondness in his chest, Emmrich saw knitting needles in Lucanis’ hands, a basket with skeins of colored yarn by his feet, goldenrod yellow, deep emerald green and bone white . He couldn’t quite make out what the man was making, but by the length of it, he theorized that it might be a scarf. Probably something for the Crow to wear whenever Rook dragged him to the snowy Hossberg Wetlands or deep in the windy corridors of the Necropolis, as Lucanis had always complained about the cold.
“Hello Emmrich,” Lucanis’ voice was once again tinged with that bone deep tiredness of a man that desperately needed sleep, the shadows under his eyes a display for all to see of his body’s protest about the man’s insistence in staying awake.
Emmrich tutted and with long legged strides came closer to Lucanis, leaning down, his head cocked to the side to get a better look of the Crow’s face.
“I was under the impression that you and Spite had reached an agreement over you being allowed to rest?” he asked, an eyebrow raised as he catalogued every minute detail of exhaustion in Lucanis’ face and frame.
“Lucanis Is Mad. Mad At Spite. Just Wanted One Bite. One Taste.” The familiar warm static-like presence by his shoulder accompanied the spirit’s growled voice. Lucanis, for his part, rolled his eyes before rolling his head, letting out a groan as he stretched sore neck muscles. Emmrich tucked the sound of that little groan deep in his mind.
“Three days ago I woke up with candle wax in my mouth, not a pleasant experience.”
Part of Emmrich wanted to scold the spirit for ingesting things with Lucanis’ body without his host’s permission, and another was always delighted at Spite’s eagerness to experience new sensations that he would’ve never been able to without a physical body.
“Spite, I must reiterate that you shouldn’t ingest things without Lucanis’ permission. Not only because it might be unpleasant for your host, but also what may seem innocuous to you may be a deadly poison for Lucanis’ body.”
“Won’t Eat Poison. We Know. How It Smells, How It Tastes. Taught To Him. Made Sure He Knew. The Taste And Smell.” Spite’s voice was a hiss by his ear, close and intimate. An involuntary shudder coursed thru Emmrich’s body at the sound, one not unpleasant.
Lucanis sighed and got up from his seat, putting down his knitting project and the needles, “So… what did you need, Emmrich?”
“Oh, yes!” The question almost jolted Emmrich back to the present, and he remembered what he had come to the kitchen to do, pulling the bag of coffee beans from behind his back, where he was hiding it with one hand. He smiled as Lucanis’ frown shifted into an expression of bare surprise at the sight of it.
“A colleague of mine in the Mourn Watch owed me a favor. A couple years ago I assisted them in their thesis about the variations in the spectral aura of the recent undead when compared to-” Emmrich stopped himself from launching into a description of said thesis when he heard Lucanis chuckle, a fond warm sound that had his heart rate picking up a notch. “Regardless, they are also quite a connoisseur of fine coffee so they helped me track down a supplier of this particular brand.”
With silent steps, Lucanis approached Emmrich and took the bag in his hands. Nervously the necromancer continued, “I figured you’d welcome a familiar reminder of home? I do so hope it is the right roast you prefer.”
He fidgeted with the rings in his bare hand as he watched Lucanis open the bag and bring it close to his face, nostrils flaring and eyes closing in apparent bliss as he smelled the scent of the coffee beans inside, a smile breaking in his face like veil light gently flaring a body back to life. Next to him, Emmrich also heard a pleased rumble from Spite, his presence slipping like silk past him to rejoin Lucanis.
“Emmrich…” the Crow shook his head, a flush on his face, that smile that always made Emmrich’s heart race joined by soulful brown eyes filled to the brim with some emotion that the older man wasn’t quite sure what to make of, but certainly positive. “You didn’t have to.”
“On the contrary, my dear.” The endearment left his lips faster than he could realize, his heart rushing ahead of his brain. Embarrassed at the slip in composure, he raised a fist to his lips, attempting to mask his blush with a cough as he broke eye contact with Lucanis.
“Racing Beats. Smells Of Anticipation And Fear And More. Bring Us More Gifts? Yes?”
Emmrich was surprised into letting out a chuckle at how Spite’s comment and Lucanis’ responding annoyed groan broke the tension that had risen in the room.
“Hm, well… much as I would love to prepare this coffee right away, I think you’re right Emmrich, I should go rest. My mind is already going a bit hazy as it is.”
“Branching out into silver?”
Unlike Rook’s soft and silent steps, Emmrich was aware of Taash’s approach long before they sidled next to him at the Lords of Fortune fencer’s stall. The tall qunari had never cared much for stealth, bluntness being their preferred method.
Rook had brought him and Taash along to the Hall of Valor in Rivain on invitation from Isabela, something about testing their mettle in the fighting pit? While Emmrich understood the need for keeping one’s battle abilities well honed and trained for the coming days, he wasn’t sure how much help a fight in a controlled environment would be of aid to them when compared to the chaos and peril they were sure to be faced with from the Evanuris’s forces. That remained to be seen, as Rook seemed to be occupied riling up the Lords interested in the match to place bets on their team, much to his consternation. Betting was a terrible practice. Still, it gave him time to browse the selection of jewelry the Lords’ merchant, Mateo, had for trade.
“Not quite,” Emmrich hummed as he lifted a delicate silver bracelet in his hands, a teardrop shaped dark crimson gem dangling from a chain attached to it. “A gift, in fact.”
“Oh, who’s it for?” Just like their approach, the bluntness of the question was expected by Emmrich. Ever to the heart of the matter for the team’s resident dragon hunter.
“Someone quite dear to me, he isn’t one to normally wear jewelry, but…” he trailed off, putting the bracelet back down on the table.
“You could always give him some cheese.”
That caught Emmrich by surprise, and he looked up at Taash with a raised eyebrow, who just shrugged. “I beg your pardon?”
“It’s what Rook recommended I get for Lace, I thought he was being stupid, but hey… it worked.”
He shook his head. While he was sure Lucanis would certainly appreciate a good cheese – perhaps paired with a nice Mont-de-glace red? Something to consider. – Emmrich felt like the Crow would be more amused or confused by the gift than anything.
“I appreciate the suggestion, Taash. But I was hoping for something more meaningful. As you know, jewelry isn’t only a matter of decoration for Nevarrans, each piece of grave gold is weighted with memories and significance. But I’d hate to be so obvious as to give him something in gold, and regardless, silver is much more in line with his… aesthetic sensibilities.”
“Huh, okay.” There was a beat of silence as the two of them stood next to each other, Emmrich mulling over the idea and image of slipping a golden bracelet in Lucanis’ wrist, feeling almost guilty of the thought, even if no one was privy to it.
“Here, give him this.” He was rudely broken from his train of thought by Taash suddenly tossing a silvery chain to him, which he managed to just barely catch with an undignified yelp before it fell to the floor.
Re-composing himself, Emmrich took a better look at the chain Taash had chosen, and he had to wonder if the dragon hunter had deduced who the recipient of the gift was meant to be. Emmrich had always felt that people underestimated how perceptive they could be. He briefly looked askance at Taash, but they seemed none the wiser, leaning over the table to eye a large opalescent gem set in a bulky golden necklace.
The silver chain looked delicate at first glance, but the design of the links was such that each was tightly woven with the next, making it so that it’d certainly be resistant to being broken. Dangling from it was an expertly crafted figure of a crow, also made in silver and with a small amethyst gem in its chest. The crow’s wings were outstretched and each feather was a separate delicate piece so that they would move alongside with the chain, a subtle mimicry of the movement of a bird in flight that could only be achieved with the most masterful of silversmithing skills. It was perfect.
“Right! So, I managed to convince Isabela to put us against some Antaam in the pit. I'm not sure how she got them but we’re up next!” Rook’s cheerful voice accompanied his arrival as he hopped two steps at a time down the stairs that led to the upper parts of the Hall of Valor.
Emmrich quickly paid for the chain, safely storing it deep in his robes where they wouldn’t be damaged.
“Oh, Manfred… Why did I allow Rook to convince me to join him and Taash in that fighting pit? I should’ve known better.” Emmrich lamented later that day, a sigh escaping his lips as he pressed a leather bag filled with enchanted ice against his left shoulder, where he knew a nasty bruise was sure to be turning mottled blue and purple from the glancing hit he had suffered from one of the Antaam’s gigantic warhammers, he was lucky he hadn’t broken any bones.
Manfred’s sympathetic hiss and the sound of a tray delicately hitting the desk in front of him had Emmrich opening his eyes with a smile at his ward as the skeleton peered at him, an offering of steaming tea in one hand.
“Thank you, Manfred. Tea is just what I needed right now.”
There was a knock at the door to his Laboratory as he took a sip of the warm beverage, and Manfred cheerfully clattered to the door, an excited spring on his step while Emmrich said “Come in!”
He quickly shared Manfred’s excitement when Lucanis stepped inside.
“Curiosity!” Spite was quick to rumble, earning a delighted hiss from the skeleton.
“Emmrich, Rook told me you were probably in here,” the small smile in Lucanis’ face turned to a frown when Emmrich rose from his chair with a pained groan. “Are you alright?”
The older man chuckled and waved his hand, “Quite alright, just some new bruises I’m afraid, nothing we all haven’t weathered before.”
“Ah, he had mentioned something about bringing you to a fighting pit.”
“Maker, what a foolish idea that was,” he muttered more to himself than to anyone else in the room, shaking his head. “But what can I do for you, my boy?”
“Bellara is on tonight’s cooking rotation so she asked me to let you know dinner should be ready soon.”
Emmrich smiled when Manfred let out an insistent hiss, and he looked over at his ward pointing at the forgotten cup of tea at his desk, “Quite so, Manfred, one mustn’t let fine tea go to waste. I’ll join you all at the dinner hall in just a bit, Lucanis.”
The Crow nodded and turned to leave, when suddenly Emmrich remembered the small gift he had acquired in Rivain and he stopped Lucanis with a “A moment before you leave?”
Lucanis promptly turned around with a raised eyebrow and Emmrich rushed to his desk to pick up the small bundled piece of cloth where he had safely stored the silver necklace away from harm. He walked towards Lucanis, feeling nervousness flutter in his belly like a moth.
“This was pointed out to me when I was in the Hall of Valor, perusing the merchant’s wares.” Emmrich couldn’t help how softly he spoke as he pulled the cloth open, revealing the delicate silver chain with the crow pendant. Some intense emotion passed through Lucanis’ face, something like wonder he thought, bright and fast, as the Crow gingerly touched the piece of jewelry with the pads of his fingers. “I found that it would very much suit you,” the older man concluded with a murmur.
“For me?” Lucanis’ wide brown eyes flitted back up to meet Emmrich’s hazel, a frown between his eyebrows.
“May I?” Emmrich asked, suddenly feeling bold beyond where he had promised himself he’d dare to tread.
Lucanis gave him a silent nod, color raising to his cheeks and warming up even further his tan complexion. Emmrich took the chain from the cloth bundle and walked behind Lucanis, seeing the younger man’s posture straighten minutely. He carefully pulled the chain around Lucanis’ neck, letting the crow pendant rest against his chest. One of the Crow’s hands came up to pull his long black hair out of the way, revealing a tantalizing sliver of the skin usually hidden by it, and Emmrich had to fight against the sigh that threatened to escape him at the sight.
Delicately he clasped the chain closed, allowing Lucanis to let his hair fall down his upper back again. And oh , how Emmrich longed to run his fingers through those soft looking locks, but instead he stepped back and smiled again when Lucanis turned back to him, the man looking down at the delicate crow pendant hanging from his neck, his fingers tracing the moving silver feathers, that beautiful blush coloring his face.
“There… Do you like it?” Emmrich asked nervously, pressing his palms together in front of himself to stop from fidgeting.
Seemingly broken from his own thoughts, Lucanis’ gaze snapped back up to meet his, that crooked smile that never failed to melt Emmrich’s heart curling sheepishly in his face. “Emmrich, I don’t know what to say… But it’s beautiful, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, just my way of once again extending my gratitude for the care you’ve shown me and the others in our group.” It wasn’t technically a lie, but also not the entire truth either, but confessing what was within his heart was beyond what his boldness could permit. He didn’t want to frighten Lucanis away, and ruin the precious friendship they had cultivated with his foolish romanticism.
“Emmrich, I-”
Whatever Lucanis was going to say was interrupted by another insistent hiss from Manfred, making both men jump. Emmrich turned to look back at his ward and chuckled, seeing him standing next to the cup of tea at his desk.
“Apologies Manfred, I assure you I haven’t forgotten about the tea,” he looked back at Lucanis, and smiled. “You were saying?”
The younger man shook his head and let out a short quiet laugh, saying “It’s nothing. See you at dinner, Emmrich.”
And with that, Lucanis was out of the door.
“Why Do You. Hesitate? Emmrich Is. Inside. Just Go And Knock!”
Spite’s purple gaze narrowed at Lucanis, the demon’s visage looking up at him in impatience as the two of them stood in the middle of the long corridor that led to Emmrich’s room.
Lucanis shot Spite an annoyed glare, his grip on the bottle of wine in his hand tightening, “Don’t rush me.”
The demon huffed and looked towards the door, cocking his head to the side, amusingly reminiscent of a dog attempting to ascertain an unfamiliar noise. Spite then looked back at him with that same impatient glare, a frown in his face.
Finally, Lucanis sighed and pushed himself to move, passing by Spite, who let out a pleased growl. He felt the demon almost push him forward, and he gritted his teeth, mentally admonishing Spite and praying to the Maker for more patience for himself and the demon both.
As Lucanis approached the door he heard what seemed like quiet soft humming. He tucked the bundle of cloth he was holding in his other hand under his arm, freeing it to knock on the door.
“Ah, come in!” he smiled as he heard Emmrich’s voice call out from inside.
Once he opened the door and stepped inside, he found Emmrich on top of a long wooden ladder, a pile of books balanced in one arm and the other tucking a tome in the upper shelves of one of the multiple bookcases he had in his Laboratory.
When the older man looked down and away from the shelf at Lucanis, his face broke out into a brilliant delighted smile with a warmth that could rival any hot Antivan summer day, it lit up Emmrich’s handsome features, the crows feet at the corners of his eyes and the laugh lines deepened by his smile beautiful marks of a man free with his emotions, so different from the careful words and concealed intentions of Crows. Lucanis couldn’t help the returning smile on his face at the sight of it.
“Lucanis! I’ll be down in a moment.” Emmrich greeted him, quickly putting the pile of books in his arms in a vacant spot in the shelf that would fit them.
“Were you humming?” Lucanis asked, bemused and fond at the thought of the formal and gentleman-ly professor humming to himself when no one was looking.
Emmrich chuckled as he gracefully stepped down the ladder, “Yes, I have found that it does wonders to distract my mind when it’s troubled with matters that still elude my grasp, such as the problem with Johanna’s machinations.”
“We. Like It. Sounds Nice.” Lucanis fought the urge to roll his eyes as Spite manifested next to Emmrich, curling his arms around the man in a clinging sort of hug that he had taken to doing whenever they were in the other man’s presence.
The man raised his eyebrows, turning his head to look at where he likely sensed Spite’s voice was coming from.
Lucanis cleared his throat and raised the bottle in his hand, catching the man’s attention back and distracting him from Spite’s comment, “A bottle of ‘37 Campana port, you had noticed it in the cellar of the Dellamorte villa.”
“Indeed,” Emmrich said with a reverent tone as he approached Lucanis and took the bottle in his hands, holding it carefully and inspecting the label in the candlelight. Hazel eyes locked with his over the bottle, the smile dancing in there and on the older man’s lips so full of fondness and affection that it took every ounce of Crow training that had been instilled in him for Lucanis not to pull Emmrich into himself and capture that smile with own lips. The rumbling purr coming from Spite an agreement to that sentiment.
“Quite rare as well,” Emmrich continued, fingers brushing delicately the label. Turning on his heel, the necromancer strode to the shelf next to his room’s fireplace, picking up two wine glasses deftly with one hand.
“Share with me?” he said as he turned to look back at Lucanis.
“You know I can’t turn down some good wine,” Lucanis responded. His eyes were glued to Emmrich as the man walked over to his desk, putting down the glasses and opening the bottle. The light of the room glittered on the myriad of rings and bracelets adorning his hands and arms, their gesture elegant and poised like a dancer in delicate motion as Emmrich poured some of the wine in both glasses.
That same grace was in his stride as the older man walked back over to Lucanis and offered him one of the glasses. Emmrich was like a whirlpool that pulled him in, one Lucanis had no chance in escaping from the very start when he, Rook and Bellara had first met him in the depths of the Grand Necropolis. Emmrich’s tentative curiosity and gentleness regarding Spite, the immense depth of his compassion, vowing to do his utmost to look out for a Lucanis and a Spite severely affected by Treviso’s fate, despite barely knowing them at the time, was so different than what he had expected.
Lucanis had been wary, hesitant, sometimes outright acidic, lashing out at the profound kindness the man extended to him time and time again with nothing expected in return. Eventually his armor was pierced bit by bit by Emmrich, and he let himself be pulled in by the man’s magnetism. It was once the man started giving him little gifts, meaningful little objects that he had gone out of his way to procure for Lucanis, that he began to realize that he was well truly locked in to Emmrich’s orbit. Spite too, the demon not being ashamed to bask in the kindness and understanding Emmrich showed him, and reading Lucanis’ own feelings long before the Crow even realized how much he’d fallen for the older man.
So when he took the offered glass in hand, he couldn’t help brushing his fingers against Emmrich’s, a deliberate action.
Emmrich cleared his throat, giving Lucanis a small smile and averting his eyes as he looked down at his own glass, swirling the wine within it and bringing it up to his nose as he inhaled the scent of the beverage. He closed his eyes and hummed, the smile in his face growing pleased, and Lucanis drank every second of that vision.
“Hmm, hints of raspberry and honey? I also believe that particular year the wine was aged in cherry wood barrels?” Emmrich said after taking a sip from the wine.
“You truly could rival Caterina when it comes to reading wine. You’re right, the Campana vineyard switched to cherry wood barrels briefly for that year,” he chuckled, taking a sip of his own glass.
Lucanis felt a small nudge on his other arm, the one that was still holding the bundle of cloth he had brought along, and he looked to the side, seeing Spite looking at him meaningfully. Ah, right, he’d almost forgotten.
“The wine wasn’t the only thing I wanted to give you,” he began, earning a quizzical look from Emmrich.
He walked over to the other man, taking the wine glass he had in hands. Emmrich gave him a bemused look, but let him take it, tracking his movement when Lucanis went over to the man’s desk and set the two wine glasses on top of it, before walking back to him and unfurling the long scarf he had bundled up in his hands.
“I am… not the best at gift giving. The last time I tried, the gesture wasn’t very well received,” he said sheepishly. He was looking down at the scarf, nervous to look up at the man as a blush began to crawl up the back of his neck and towards his cheeks. “And I figured a dagger wouldn’t be the best gift to give you. Something I could make with my own hands felt more appropriate.”
Emmrich was silent and watching him with an intensity that made Lucanis’ stomach flip. He approached the necromancer, putting the scarf around his neck, the deep green, golden yellow and bone white colors complimenting the man’s casual attire. Lucanis ran his hands over the scarf draped over Emmrich’s chest, before looking back up at the other man’s face, his eyes going from the warm blush coloring Emmrich’s pale cheeks, to his slightly parted lips and then back to wide hazel eyes.
“Emmrich, I’m not…” he sighed before continuing, having to fill the silence with something before his courage faltered. “I’m not very good at this… I… Mierda , what am I saying-”
“Was this what you were knitting in the dining hall?” Emmrich’s voice was impossibly gentle, breaking him from the fumbling spiral he was quickly going down.
With a shrug and a huffed laugh he said “Yes, I know it’s no gold but-” as he ducked his head down, looking at where his hand was resting on Emmrich’s chest.
“It’s perfect, darling.” A ring adorned hand came up to rest on top of his, squeezing it. It was so warm, the palms smooth and soft, hands of a scholar with points of cold metal where the rings pressed against Lucanis’ skin.
His gaze returned back to the other man’s face, and he watched as something like resolve appeared in the Emmrich’s eyes, like a decision being taken. He felt it when the man’s posture straightened, and he began to feel as if he might have overstepped.
“Lucanis, may I kiss you?”
The simple question broke him from his train of thought. His hands clutched the fabric of the scarf as he pulled at it in response to Emmrich’s question, making the man lean down so he could meet the other man’s lips with his own. He closed his eyes as he felt Emmrich sigh into the kiss, long fingered hands raising to cradle his chin, his neck and then tangle in his hair. Lucanis let out a sigh of his own as he pressed more firmly against Emmrich’s soft lips, his arms circling around the older man’s chest to clutch at his back and bring him even closer still. The warm static of Spite’s presence enveloped them both, as he felt the demon’s satisfaction and delight at the kiss, for once quiet and content as he bathed in the sensations Lucanis’ body afforded him.
What he lacked in experience, Lucanis made up for by being a quick study, as he promptly opened his lips as he felt Emmrich’s tongue trace his bottom lip, deepening the kiss and making the other man groan, the fingers in his hair flexing, tasting the wine in his tongue.
Almost too quickly for Lucanis’ liking Emmrich pulled back, and when he tried to chase the man’s lips he felt a small tug in his hair that made heat shoot down to his belly, and he fluttered his eyes open to look at Emmrich. He reveled in the little breaks of composure in the older man, the redness of his lips from the kiss, the few hairs out of place in his perfectly trimmed mustache and in his blown out pupils.
“I believe that was yes, then,?” Emmrich chuckled.
Lucanis ducked his head, resting his forehead against the man’s clavicle as he let out a laugh, “Yes, very much so.”
Emmrich hummed, petting Lucanis’ hair and making him sigh happily. One hand then moved to his chin, fingers pulling his gaze back up to meet Emmrich’s.
“Come now, darling, let's finish at least a glass of that wine. There’s no need to rush this, whatever you wish it to be.”
He nodded, capturing Emmrich’s hand in his own and pressing a kiss against his knuckles, already feeling drunk from the dazzlingly brilliant smile the man gave him.
“A dagger?” Emmrich said with humor as he let go of Lucanis and walked around him to retrieve their forgotten glasses.
“Something of a long story,” he laughed, following the other man.
“Well, I’d be most curious to hear it over the wine, if you’re willing to share.”
And it truly was no trouble opening up to Emmrich, settling in next to him by the fire, hands tangled and wine on their lips, his patient presence and easy affection warming and filling the cracks of his soul. The most precious of gifts.