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Lucanis Dellamorte really should have known better. He should have been more observant, or at the very least he should have made sure his cabin was actually secure before he settled in for the night. Well, not much he can do about it now that he can feel the fading effects of a drugging and the heavy chains holding his wrists together.
There’s guards surrounding him and magic itching the back of his eyes. A chill racks his body as a mage gloats before him. Fabulous. Not only does he have to deal with the fact that he’s been stripped naked, but now there’s Venatori. Ugh. If only his hands were free. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with being pontificated at by a cultist.
Someone grabs his hair, wrenching his head back. He winces, but doesn’t let himself make a noise. They will not break him. Not while he still draws breath. A hand grabs his jaw, forcing it open.
A cold, slimy, mildly metallic liquid buzzes in his throat as he unwillingly swallows the clearly magical liquid. His body aches, unhappy with the unknown substance permeating through his body. His eyes itch incessantly. Pain builds, spreading to every nerve, every muscle in his body.
His back slams into something hard and cold, stealing the breath from his lungs. He has to grit his teeth to keep from crying out. Muscle’s contract rapidly, a cold chill shooting through his body, unrelenting. Sweat beads, heat swallowing his skin. He can barely even breathe, let alone find a full breath in the darkness he now finds himself in.
He’s no idea how long passed before the assault on his senses lessens to something almost manageable, but he knows the relief comes with those newly present whispers. Something’s moving inside him, wriggling and twitching as it finds the edges of his body. It whispers and calls, demanding his attention despite being unable to make anything resembling a recognizable word.
Unknown whispers fill his ears in the cold darkness, increasing in ferocity until he’s being screamed at by nothing and everything all at once. Growls and snarls become incoherent noises become something almost too close to words but always just out of reach. He can’t even cover his ears with his hands bound as they are.
“LU— CA— NIS.” The whispers declare. His blood freezes. It’s not been that long, has it? His eyes itch incessantly. Whatever’s been growing inside him, the magical thing that he was forced into consuming, is coming to bear in a way that doesn’t make him feel any better about himself.
Squeezing his eyes closed, he tries to move his focus to anything else. His mind insists on the image of that white-haired prostitute from just before the invasion. The mildly spooky way his eyes, tattoos, and hair glowed in the dim ally. Those eyes… Mesmerizing in their own way, and yet always in his mind.
He never did figure out which brothel that man was from, and there was the sneaking suspicion that the white-haired elven man wasn’t actually a prostitute, but really, he had nothing else to go off. For such a distinct look, he’s surprisingly hard to track down.
He’s almost certain his cousin knew and didn’t tell him, given the smirks he’d get these last few years. When he gets out of here, he should find out for sure.
…If he gets out of here.
No. He’s going to get out of here. He’s going to finish his contract. He’s going to get back home to Treviso, and then he’s going deal with whatever—
“Home?!” He freezes. Right. His unwanted companion. “Want. To. Go. Home?”
He grumbles, scratching at his itchy, too long beard as his long greasy hair falls over his shoulders again. Spite complains in his head, but there’s not really much he can do in this state, hungry and weak as he is. At least he can move his hands now, even if he’s been moved to this stupid magical prison with no way out.
Should have known better than to let himself be drugged again, but really, there’s only so much he can do when he’s starving like this.
A sound catches his attention. There’s something out there. Voices. They’re probably back to finally kill him after all of this. After all, it’s Spite they want, not him. Is this really where it ends? Spite the Venatori long enough and they just give up?
“Kill them!” Spite insists. He can feel magic buzzing around them. “We escape! We kill! We. Go. Home!” That sounds great, but it’s not exactly feasible when Lucanis can barely move on his own right now. “I. Help! We Kill. We. Leave!”
There’s new footsteps out there. His eyes itch maddeningly. More mages, and at least one has so much more magic than he’s ever encountered. Weird. In all the time he’s been here, he’s never felt someone like that. And he knows Zara and her lackeys have already abandoned the place.
“We’re just here for Lucanis Dellamorte.” Oh. It’s him. The prostitute from so long ago that keep playing in his head. “I’ll go through you if I have to.” He can’t quite think through the fuzz in his head, but he knows deep in his possessed bones that the magic keeping him here has weakened.
Spite takes the lead, launching them through the ceiling of their crystaline cage and out into the much larger room. There’s eyes on their naked, exposed form as they slay the few Venatori milling about. Blood splatters from a particularly messy kill. Their body aches in ways he hasn’t felt since Fledgling training.
“Ari was right. He is the pretty one.” The short elven woman in front of him states as Spite retreats. He can feel Spite planning something, but really, he’s more interested in that too-interested gaze lingering on him from the white-haired man he hasn’t seen in years.
“Ari?” Lucanis takes a moment to remember. “You know my cousin?” Right. He’s heard his cousin be referred to as such a few times. Wait… His cousin does have a lover he loved to tease Lucanis with.
“I sure hope so given how frequently we—“ The woman turns to the man. “Thedas to Kal! You in there, idiot?” She smacks the back of his head.
“What?” He’s got a pretty pink blush across his face, accentuating those tattoos and the freckles Lucanis hadn’t known the other man had. Oh. He’s even hotter than Lucanis remembered.
Lucanis swallows, trying to reign in his emotions. Spite’s sure to take advantage of them and ruin whatever escape attempt this is. Spite doesn’t care what he thinks, right now, though, since he chooses to appear beside Lucanis to mock him to his face.
“You’re possessed?” The hot elven man Lucanis definitely has a crush on inquires. “There’s not many possessions that leave the demon or spirit able to separate from the host like that.”
He can see Spite? There’s no chance then, he might as well just give it up. No one wants an… An abo— No one wants something like him. “You can see Spite?” He asks just to be certain. His stomachs full of stones.
“Yeah?” He says it so nonchalantly like he isn’t crushing Lucanis’ dreams with that one word.
“And that doesn’t bother you?” He’s well away of how much of a long shot this is, but there’s always the slightest chance. Besides, Kal seems relaxed enough.
Kal blinks at him, that nearly emotionless, slightly lovesick expression never changing. “Hardly the first time I’ve seen a demon. ‘Sides, he seems chill enough.” Spite cheers, grinning wildly. Lucanis can hardly believe it. There’s no way this man, the one he’s been using to keep himself sane all this time, is actually open to giving the thing Lucanis has become a chance to even be friends with him. This has to be a trick. There’s no other explanation.
Lucanis takes a minute to borrow some clothes from a Venatori that’s roughly the same size as him. Kal might not have any issue with walking around mostly naked, but Lucanis sure does.
It’s a few minutes before they’re able to head off again. “We need to finish my contract on Calivan.” He’s not sure what makes him bring it up at this point. Is it pride? His selfish desire to pretend like everything’s normal? His training that screams at him that he’s left a job undone?
“A Crow never abandons a contract. The woman parrots.
“Who are you two, anyway?” She blinks at him, fluttering her eyelashes in a way that he’s certain is meant to help seduce him.
“Allona de Riva. Our allies call me Queenie.” She answers as Kal launches himself at a set of Venatori with extreme predjuce. Lucanis swallows. Kal really is attractive, especially with hair flying everywhere as he takes out enemy after enemy with so many different forms of lightning enchanted magic he’s never even seen before. “And this is my idiot of a brother, Kalias. You can call him Knight, though he’ll probably complain about it.” Good. He can have some distance from his feelings. He doesn’t need to ruin everything when he’s only just met these two.
Wait. She said de Riva. These are Viago’s. He can already hear Illario’s teasing when he gets back. ‘Another de Riva? Really, cousin? Viago shooting you down wasn’t enough? Need to be rejected again?’ Maker. He’s screwed. Illario’s never going to let him live this down.
Knight gets a particularly clean kill, and Lucanis can’t stop himself from blurting out a word of encouragement. “Beautiful, Knight!” That grin on the elven man’s face grows as his cheeks turn a delightful pink. He’s screwed. Lucanis is literally in the middle of breaking out of prison and now he’s got a crush on his would be rescuers.
Lucanis hadn’t expected the dragon. Nor had he expected Knight to throw himself at it and very nearly land a killing blow. A shame he didn’t. He gets the feeling that dragon’s going to be a problem much later down the line.
He’s got a moment to think, while Knight’s in the infirmary, the de Riva’s are all recovering in their own way, and Treviso’s beginning to recover, so he does the one thing he can think of at the moment.
“Cousin?” He’s barely seen Illario since he got free, and they used to talk like Lucanis is hoping to all the time when they were boys.
“Lucanis! It’s good to see you. You’re looking much better than the last time you were by.”
Lucanis has to huff at that. The wonders of a bath and food for the first time in a year. A year. He’s going to have to get used to that. Just like he has to get used to being an abomination. “I’ve had a chance to tidy up.” He motions for his cousin to follow him through the streets despite them both knowing where they’re going.
“What is this about?” Illario asks. “I thought you’d be off on your new contract. Or all over that Kalias. He’s your type, and clearly already smitten with you. Just like you are him.” He really didn’t need his years of pining for a man he barely even knew thrown back in his face, but really, he’s been through worse recently.
“And how long were you going to keep it a secret that you knew who he was?” He tries to keep the accusation out of his tone, but he’s not really sure he succeeds. Spite laughs at him.
Illario pats his back, letting him enter the cafe first. “You and I both know what happened the last time you had a crush on a de Riva, cousin. I was simply trying to prevent more heartache when you realized it wouldn’t happen.”
“Well, why not?!” It’s out of his mouth before he has a chance to think. “You’ve been with Allona for years. Why is it so hard to think I wouldn’t be able to get myself a date with a de Riva?”
Illario smirks, letting out a half aborted chuckle. “Lucanis. Your idea of flirting is knives and danger. Most people prefer a softer approach of compliments, deeds, and innuendo.” His cousin hums thoughtfully for a moment. “Though I suppose that since this is Kalias we’re talking about, you do have a chance, however small. I’ve heard he’s the wild card of Viago’s bunch. And also disastrously gay for handsome men.” He tries to desperately ignore the way his face heats.
Spite snickers. “You like him.” Mierda. He doesn’t need the reminder.
“So. Cousin. What do you plan to do?” Illario asks before putting in their order.
Mierda. Why does it have to be so warm tonight! He can’t be this infatuated with the man. He doesn’t know what Spite’s going to do and he doesn’t want any of them to be hurt.
“If you don’t know, I could give you tips? I do know the finer points of male anatomy, after all.” He’s going to kill his cousin. It’s the only way to escape this teasing.