Work Text:
Naimeryn gave Zea and Alma a final hug goodbye, feeling very unsteady on her tiny heeled feet.
“You’re sure you don’t want any of this back?” She asked Zea anxiously, fiddling with the skirt of the gown. It was too generous, but she remembered what Teia had told her about refusing gifts from Crows, and she knew by now that trying to argue with Zea de Riva was pointless.
As expected, Zea rolled her mismatched eyes and shook her head with a mischievous, lopsided smirk. “Do you truly think it’s in my style?”
She gestured down at her shimmery, slinky purple gown with its daring slit and beckoning neckline. Naimeryn snorted out a soft chuckle. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Zea had intentionally brought this one with its armor-mimicking bodice and dusty blue skirt to be rid of it.
“Well, thank you, again. For the dress and for making me come.”
“Always lovely to see you,” Alma said with one of her small, mysterious smiles. Naimeryn was in awe of how different all the Rooks were, and how easy it was to like them all.
Naimeryn parted from her friends, stepping through the Eluvian into the Lighthouse. As always, Caretaker’s floating form occupied the space to the right of the surface, melting away as soon as she’d stepped through. She smiled to herself. The spirit always ensured she made it home safe, and that spread warmth through her as surely as any fire.
Speaking of warmth… a bit rose to her cheeks as something occurred to her. Would Lucanis like this look, as Zea had suggested? Imagine Lucanis watching you, Zea had goaded, and she’d suddenly felt capable of anything. She wrung her hands for a moment, deciding. Then she set off up the stairs, determined to head to the pantry.
…
Lucanis had absolved to await Rook’s return in the library. Whenever she visited the Tesseract, time passed differently, and it was hard to say if she’d be gone and back in a blink, or not return for hours. In truth, not having explored the strange inter-dimensional bar she spoke of, checked it for threats, assessed its safety, did not sit right with him. It stirred anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Yet, she’d so far always returned unscathed, and oftentimes in better spirits than when she’d left.
He was perusing the shelves when he heard heeled boots on the stairs. Inadvertently, his lips cracked into a smile. Mierda, when had he become such a schoolboy? He turned enough that he was able to lean into the corner where the bookshelf joined the sweeping railing of the stairs down. He’d be on her left as she came up on the Eluvian Chamber, meaning she wouldn’t see him until she turned the corner to head up to her room — allowing him ample time to admire her before she noticed he was there.
When she came into view, he glanced away for a split second, expecting her to still look as she had when she’d left — his mouth went dry. He snapped his head back up to look again, earning a sharp pain in his neck.
PRETTY, Spite cackled.
Understatement, Lucanis thought vehemently.
Naimeryn looked ethereal. Zea de Riva must have met her in the bar and talked her into attending the “Gala of Rooks” that she had insisted she wouldn’t be going to, as she had traded in her Warden greaves for a truly stunning ball gown that suited her perfectly. She had mentioned a time or two that the Crow version of herself wanted to give her a makeover, and she must have finally caved, because her makeup was all soft, glimmery, feature-flattering pastels rather than her usual glitter-highlighted black. Her eyes practically glowed beneath lids of pale, shimmering purples and pinks, and were emphasized with hand-painted designs of stars across those high cheekbones. Her lips were blue and purple and glossy, plump and moist enough to bite into — and he longed to.
Her hair, too, was different, loosely braided around her scalp and decorated with golden suns and stars, then sweeping loosely around her shoulders in twin tails. Her pale shoulders sported blue-tinted glitter, begging to be touched by more than those tantalizing tendrils of her hair and the metal wing-like decorations that currently adorned them. The long gown swished around her legs, completely hiding them from view, but he knew their contours well, knew the strength there, and he felt himself lick his lips — like a lecher, he thought, with a small pang of guilt. Spite’s encouraging, colorful suggestions involving the material fisted in his hands did not help.
That he would have been denied such a miraculous sight had he not waited for her to come back like a love-struck fledgling truly felt like a crime.
But then Rook did not make the turn to head up to her room — she took a deep breath, and headed for the courtyard. Spite cackled.
WANTS YOU! TO SEE!
The smile that split Lucanis’s face now was incredulous, appreciative, and adoring. As Rook reached the doors, he cleared his throat. She jumped, nearly toppling herself as she spun around, only her grip on the doorknob keeping her upright. Lucanis suppressed a chuckle and a smirk.
“Apologies,” the smirk snuck through anyway. “I only wished to save you the trouble.”
Rook’s face was flushed, but she flashed him a cheeky smirk. “How do you know I was off to see you?”
Lucanis might be offended — or at least a bit uncertain — had she not immediately released the handle and begun to sweep towards him. She appeared a little unsteady in whatever shoes were hidden beneath that skirt, but her eyes were fixed on him, and really, when had her lack of effortless grace ever bothered him?
“Besides the fact that —“ he pushed off of the wall and gathered her to his chest “— you are now in my arms?” He teased lightly. He bent down to press her lips, and she reciprocated instantly, softly, a little contented sigh escaping as they came apart again. She tasted of champagne — perhaps it was not the shoes that had her a bit wobbily.
“You got me,” she giggled, peering up through her lashes at him with a smile that was suddenly shy. “Zea finally got to have her way with me. What do you think?”
“I think,” Lucanis said softly, “I need to meet this other-worldly de Riva. I must pay her my compliments.”
Rook giggled and gave him a strange smile, playing with his collar chain. “She’s been set to marry you since she was twelve!”
Lucanis blew a snort out his nose. This multiple-dimension business was strange, but hearing about other versions of himself, with… other people? “Not me,” he reminded Rook gently, capturing her mouth once more. She melted into him, and he held her tightly. His own little miracle, beautiful, warm, and bright as the sun. A flame, chasing away the cold in his heart, lighting the way through the darkness — and powerful enough to vanquish anything in her path.
Mia fiamma, he thought to himself. What a perfect endearment for a woman as incredible as her. He could not imagine a world in which she existed, but was not his. Perhaps she did not, he realized with a start, holding her a bit more tightly.
“Want to see something neat?” She asked him suddenly, revealing her usual whiplash drunken attention span. He quirked an eyebrow in response. With a mischievous grin, she produced a blue pouch embroidered with her name, and from it —
ME! Spite cheered excitedly, and if he could physically affect Lucanis, he’d have shaken him by the shoulders. The little crocheted plush was indeed a purple-hued, winged version of himself, and Naimeryn’s eyes sparkled as she held it facing him, with her lips pressed to the back of tiny Spite’s head.
“An interesting choice,” Lucanis allowed. “What kind of ball was this that you have come home with a toy?”
“I love him, you know,” Naimeryn huffed, and Spite practically vibrated with pleasure. Lucanis thought about teasing, asking if she loved them both. He stopped himself. He didn’t want that answer in this context, didn’t want her to feel obligated to say anything she didn’t feel or, if she did, she wasn’t ready to say all on her own.
LUCANIS IS. DUMB, Spite reminded him in annoyance.
Naimeryn’s irritation was short lived, and she puffed out her chest at him — he was at first startled, then he saw what she wished to show him. A little badge, with a red heart and… his face. She grinned wickedly at him. For a moment, he thought she might say the words without needing prompting, but then she bit her lip and deflated slightly, rerouting the conversation.
“There was a fair,” she said. “I ate a Davrin cookie. Finally got to bite his head off for some annoying thing or another!”
This sufficiently eased the tension between them, and Lucanis allowed himself a real laugh. “I would pay to see his expression should he learn this.”
“I’m going to save it for the next time he vexes me,” she told him resolutely, and he chuckled again.
“So tomorrow at breakfast, perhaps.”
“I guess we’ll see how annoying he is, won’t we?”
Rook’s shyness returned, and she ducked her head. “I danced… kind of.”
“Kind of?” Lucanis queried.
“I don’t know how to dance,” she told the floor. “Zea tried to teach me, but I was really drunk, so I probably wasn’t very good. And… a Crow Rook we didn’t know danced with me, but I barely remember it.”
Lucanis did not much care for that.
SMELLS LIKE. JEALOUSY, Spite cackled. MAYBE LUCANIS SHOULD. ASK ROOK TO DANCE. INSTEAD!
In all honesty, it was not a terrible idea.
“Perhaps you could show me?” Lucanis murmured in her ear, surprised at his own boldness. “What Zea taught you?”
He did not care about any other Crow.
Naimy must have still been just drunk enough, because she gave him a cheeky smile. She curled her finger around his collar chain and gave a gentle tug, leading him by it towards the music room. Mierda, when had Naimeryn Thorne perfected sexy? He swallowed thickly, doing his best to keep his eyes in places other than her swaying hips.
That he wanted her was growing to be undeniable. He wished she’d had a little less to drink — but then, she’d probably been uncomfortable, trying to get out of her own head the whole night.
“Did you have a good time tonight?” He asked her as nonchalantly as possible as they entered the music room. Her smile was small… for a moment, she almost looked… sad? It was gone in an instant, however, and she smiled for real as she set her clutch and the pouch of goodies on a crate just inside the door.
“Yes, definitely,” she nodded. “It was very lively, and I met some of Zea’s other Rook friends… I may have introduced her to the Tesseract, but it seems she frequents it much more often than I.”
She chuckled, then crossed to the piano. “Her… brother, sort of. Played guitar. It was pretty lively. Can you do that with a piano?”
“For you?” He smirked, trailing one hand across her waist as he sidled past her to the instrument, making her shiver. “I can play whatever you like.”
She was red to the tips of her ears, and Lucanis pretended not to notice. His fingers glided easily across the keys. His eyes flicked up to hers, and she took a deep breath. It seemed now that they were here, she was feeling less confident, but then she closed her eyes and began to sway. Focusing on the song he was trying to play became incredibly difficult as he watched her dance. He sometimes wondered to himself how a woman so graceful on the battlefield could be so clumsy in every other environment — he found it endearing, of course, but it simply made no sense — but seeing her now was like seeing her swinging her staff at an enemy, but he could simply watch and enjoy. No danger. No need to protect. Only enjoy.
Perhaps this was what Zea had taught her — she already knew the steps, she needed only to trust herself.
Naimeryn paused to catch her breath, and Lucanis ceased playing immediately. Without really having decided to, he stood and took the two steps towards her, gathering her once again to his chest. She gave a startled little utterance as he twirled her in a circle, participating in a quick, silent dance of their own. Her eyes sparkled into his, and he kissed her until she was breathless again, her arms draped around his shoulders and her eyelids fluttering like mad. She smiled softly at him, tracing her thumb across his lower lip, presumably to wipe away lipstick he’d smeared there.
“I am grateful you saved a dance for me,” Lucanis said finally, losing his nerve to say anything else. On the piano, Spite rolled his eyes and began to pout.
Color crossed her cheeks, and she gave him that look she sometimes did — the one that said he was the most amazing thing in her whole world, the one that made him nervous, made him want to be reckless. Softly, she pressed her lips to his forehead, and he held her close, like she would disappear if he did not hold on tightly enough.
“For you, always,” she promised.