Work Text:
Standing on the Precipice
Spite sat on the uncomfortable cot that Lucanis had stuffed into the back of the pantry, staring defiantly at the Qunari stationed at the other end of the room. They had overheard the final moments of his argument with Lucanis, which had culminated in his overtaking of his host's body. Which, notably, he hadn't done on purpose. Lucanis was simply exhausted after weeks of sparse, broken sleep.
He shifted where he sat, crossing his arms without breaking eye contact with his sentry; annoyed and frustrated. Lucanis was being stubborn, as always. And now Spite was stuck. He was becoming desperate for an escape. He needed out!
The Spirit smirked at the Qunari as his acute senses heard the door to the dining hall open in the distance, sensing her approach before Anya had even crossed the threshold. Moments later, much to Spite's delight, the pantry held another occupant.
"Heard there was an... incident," Anya prompted as she stopped beside Taash. She leaned back on her heel as she crossed her arms against her chest, her eyes focusing on Spite in the dim lighting of the pantry. He noted the flash of cyan that contrasted against her darker irises; so subtle he almost missed it.
Retribution.
Spite felt his skin pebble with goosebumps in recognition of the other Spirit; acutely aware of its controlled presence as Anya trained her gaze on him. The two of them didn't seem to struggle against one another as he and Lucanis did, like oil and water.
"Yeah. I was just getting something to eat. Heard Lucanis yelling; he sounded pretty angry. Then there was this loud noise. I came in here and saw him sitting on the cot like that."
Anya's attention shifted, focusing behind him before she turned to look up at the Qunari with one brow raised in confusion. "With the wings burnt onto the wall?"
Taash nodded their head, keeping a wary eye on Spite throughout the entire conversation. He knew they would notice the smallest movements, even something as subtle as the inhalation of breath and tried not to chuckle as an idea came to him.
He sniffed loudly, grinning at the Qunari as they narrowed their eyes at him. "Smells like... melon, and woodsmoke."
They stood taller, defiant in the face of his taunting. "Spite, no! We've talked about the smelling thing how many times?!" It wasn't a question, but a demand. Their no-nonsense tone of voice cut through the air between them like a sharpened axe.
He couldn't seem to stop himself from smirking broadly at them; a playful twinkle in his purple eyes. He knew that the Qunari wasn't afraid of him, after all the time they'd spent among the Rivaini people. Some of the others that lived here in the Lighthouse were wary of him, but most seemed to be adjusting to his presence with relative ease.
There was one person, however, who had never feared him, or what he and Lucanis might become...
"You can go, Taash. I can handle this," Anya stated as she stepped forward, uncrossing her arms as she effectively dismissed the Qunari. They looked toward their leader, and friend, an uncertain expression on their face for the first time since this whole ordeal had begun.
"You sure about that?" they asked, eyes boring into Spite's. He shifted again under their scrutiny. There was a keen concentration behind those eyes that Spite had never been able to fully stomach.
A gentle chuckle escaped Anya, setting Spite's nerves at ease as the melodic sound filled the air. "If it makes you feel better, you can go guard the entrance to the Eluvian room." Taash scowled at him briefly before they nodded their head in agreement, and turned to leave. "But I'm confident it won't be necessary." She added as the Qunari exited the room.
Silence fell as the door shut. Spite stood up from the cot and watched carefully as Anya took several steps closer. She stopped when she was an arm's length away from him, an appraising expression on her face as she held herself up with that ever-present confidence that she wielded so well. No matter the circumstance, no one would never be able to tell if she was faltering on the inside.
"So, Spite, what happened with Lucanis?"
The Spirit raised his chin defiantly, looking down at Anya with a guarded countenance. He knew he hadn't done anything wrong. Surely Anya would agree. She was always understanding and reasonable, where Lucanis was obstinate and impossible.
"Lucanis. Made a deal. He hasn't kept it. Acting stubborn. Won't listen."
Anya nodded her head in understanding, resting her hands on her hips as she considered his response.
"He made a deal… with you? What kind of a deal, Spite?"
Spite hummed in affirmation, his shoulders tensing as his temper flared. He could feel the desperation mounting, the growing resentment of an unfulfilled bargain.
"Our deal was simple. Break our chains. Kill Venatori. Kill Zara! And be free."
Her brows furrowed as her eyes swept across his face. She seemed to be searching him for something, though he couldn't begin to guess what.
"Which part of this deal has Lucanis left unmet? You're out of the Ossuary. We've killed tons of Venatori. Zara's dead-"
A low growl came from Spite, his stance becoming more feral.
"We did not kill Zara. Her death. It was stolen. From us."
A look of apprehension fell across the delicate features of her face. He hesitated in that moment.
"Spite, you can't hold that against Lucanis. Illario's the one who killed Zara, but she's dead either way."
The Spirit shifted as something stirred within him. His heart began to thunder in his chest as he realized he was running out of time; Lucanis was waking up.
"Must punish. Illario. Lucanis. Won't allow it."
He growled again, fighting against Lucanis' growing consciousness. He clamped his eyes shut, overcome with the pain that always accompanied the transference.
His vision was blurred as he came to, and he was slightly disoriented as he realized he was standing beside his cot. The dim lighting was gentle enough that he didn't wince as his eyes adjusted when he opened them. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the woman standing in front of him, hands on her hips as he slowly roused himself from unconsciousness.
"Welcome back," Anya teased with a wry smile.
Lucanis felt his stomach turn as his last memories came to the forefront of his mind. His argument with Spite, about their deal, about Illario. And then… nothing.
"Mierda, Anya, I'm so sorry." The words fell from his mouth in a flurry of embarrassment. This was not the professional behavior he was known for, that he prided himself on.
He froze as she laughed, actually laughed, in answer. Her eyes sparkled as she watched him carefully. There was something in the way she looked at him that made him feel seen and understood.
"You know, Lucanis, if there's anyone in Thedas that knows what you're going through, it's me," Anya stated as she moved to the side and leaned casually against the wall. He watched each step with focused vigilance.
"What a pair we make," he replied with a bitter chuckle. Perhaps he was a fool for it, but he had grown fond of Anya. He had became entranced by her, drawn to her in a way he'd never experienced before.
But what possible future could two Abominations have together? Both of them constantly teetering on the edge of full possession; a danger to everyone around them.
Yes, he was a fool.
But he couldn't seem to help himself. Simply being near her made his heart ache in his chest, and when they were apart he could feel her absence deep in his soul. Even Spite had grown to admire her, and Retribution.
Besides that, there were countless similarities between them. They had both grown up among Antiva's elite, forced into roles they didn't want to play, and experimented on by Zara Renata.
Anya was right.
"You're managing much better than you think," she assured him. The corner of her mouth pulled up slightly in a smirk. Lucanis felt his heart flutter at the sight.
"How do you always do that?"
Her brows furrowed as she crossed her arms against her chest, adjusting her posture against the wall with a confused huff. "Do what, exactly?"
He stepped closer, inexplicably drawn to her. He stood close enough that all he had to do was reach out to touch her. But he couldn't make that final leap. He could hear all of Neve's rationale and encouragements shouting in his head as he looked into Anya's eyes; so alluring.
"You break apart my perfectly gathered clouds of doom. Besides, you have enough to deal with on your own. Adding my own… complications isn't my intention."
Anya was the one to reach out, hooking her finger into the collar of his shirt as she gently pulled him closer. He swallowed the lump that had appeared so suddenly in his throat as he obeyed her silent command. He tried his best to maintain a calm demeanor as she smiled up at him.
"How about you let me decide how much mess I can handle, Lucanis," she stated lightheartedly.
He hesitated once again, unsure if she was just playing along with what she thought he wanted. Or if she was genuinely as interested in him as he was in her. Once again, Neve's voice rang through his head and he tried to silence it.
"You know, Ysobel, this isn't a very good idea." His voice took on a lower timbre as he edged closer to her. When she didn't recoil, or shove him away, he felt more confident. He could throw caution to the wind and finally make this leap.
Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly at his use of her name; an intimacy she had never granted him. But once again, she didn't shy away from his advancement. He placed his hand on the wall beside her head and leaned in ever so slightly.
"I'm sure I could think of a few worse ideas I've had in the past. Sometimes it's more fun to do the things you feel you shouldn't," she replied with a widening grin, pulling him slowly closer.
His eyes flicked down to her lips, and he felt his heart rate quicken at the thought of what he was considering. Perhaps it was too soon. Or perhaps it- No. No more overthinking.
"You like to walk a little too close to the edge, Ysobel. You should be careful. Lest you… fall."
He heard her sharp intake of breath as he leaned in close enough to feel her warmth. Everything about her was so inviting, and he couldn't believe how long he'd resisted her pull.
"You act as if I'm the only one standing on this ledge, Lucanis," she retorted smartly. She wrinkled her nose at him playfully.
"At least we can both fly," he answered as he gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
He leaned in closer, hardly able to hear anything else over the rush of blood through his ears. His heart thundered but he maintained his steady composure as they both leaned in, intent clear.
He could feel her breath against his lips before he suddenly pulled away. The movement was fast and controlled, though he was instantly filled with regret.
“I’m… sorry. I need a moment to clear my head,” he apologized as he pushed himself away from the wall. Each step away from Anya was harder than the last, but he pushed through it. He had to get out of this room. It was stifling. “Excuse me.”
He dared not look back at her as he walked toward the door. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his impulsive actions upset her in any way, but perhaps it was too late for all of that. He now had to face the fact that he wasn’t ready to leap, even despite the wings.