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They don’t get wins often. It’s also not every day that a Crow, especially one of his accolades, finds themselves with multiple friends. Much less a group that gets along as well as the Veilguard does – the hurdles between certain members notwithstanding at this point. For the most part. A rare truly good day isn’t the time to dwell on those anyhow.
The Lighthouse library is abuzz with good humor and high spirits, and these are all the excuses Lucanis chooses to tell himself for every draw he takes off the joints Neve keeps rolling. They’re tight-packed with something special she’d taken Bellara to get from the Docktown markets with her, smooth and piney and potent flower ground up fine and light. Something poorer folk in Minrathous do to make their stash stretch just that little bit farther.
Clever!
They’d killed two dragons and gotten a really good hit in on Ghilan’nain. Elgar’nan’s interference before Rook could hand Lucanis the Wolf’s Fang for an all-too-precious second chance was reduced to a mild blow to morale. The revenge for both Treviso and Minrathous certainly put a damper on feeling as though this was another missed strike against them. It’s admittedly rather hard to feel inadequate for not overpowering ancient time-pausing magicks, even for the Demon of Vyrantium, when Neve was preening when she’d returned from Minrathous, too.
T he Shadow Dragons, while still wobbly, were rallying in their own ways knowing the beast that had enabled the Venatori to further ruin their city – nay, their nation – was cut down. Davrin (immune) and Taash (instructing from a safe distance) had gone through the trouble to harvest trophies from the dragons for the team and their allies. Viago had even cracked a full smile over the cleaned scales that had been cleared by Antoine to be a slim-to-none chance of spreading the Blight. Teia had been delighted to call the good news down to the Diamond’ s main floor .
So yes. Lucanis was celebrating. For at least tonight, he was going to shed a great deal of his carefully constructed idiosyncrasies and feel some triumph. He puffs his way through one joint while he shuffles off to the kitchen to gather some dry goods for the team to snack on; he’s halfway through it when he realizes he can make even more food for the occasion, and is now returning with a tray of dishes and cutlery, a bowl of the Antivan seasoned rice he knows most of the others prefer on the side at dinner, and a plate of strawberries laid out over whipped sweet cream.
“Alright, no more work for you,” Bellara says sternly. Even as she sways, bleary-eyed from the weed and nearing tipsy from whatever Davrin and Taash have been pouring into everyone’s cups, she helps him get things out of the way so he can put down the trays resting on his forearms.
“Yeah, Crow, kick your feet up already,” Davrin jeers from where he’s joined Assan on the floor, though his own feet are kicked up on top of the hardwood chair he’d cut from a log. He’s not slurring yet, but he’s definitely loose-limbed and droopy-eyed. Lucanis was pleased to see he was not so devastated over the loss of Warden ranks as he had been after Weisshaupt. Emmrich and Rook, of course, will be keeping an eye on him regardless.
Neve beelines for the strawberries, just as he’d thought she would. He’d noted her preference for a more natural richness to her sweets when he’d learned of her love for gooseberry pie. Humming happily when she pops the fruit and cream in her mouth, she wordlessly hands up another joint to him as he straightens back up from arranging things just-so on the large, round table.
It’s a fair trade, he thinks with a grin as he takes it and holds it out in front of Taash, who had demanded they get to do their party trick of “being a living lighter”, which had only been allowed when they’d convinced Harding it wasn’t going to hurt. Any of the mages could also light anything, should they need to stop at any point. It just wasn’t the same as a mead-fueled (by the smell, according to Spite: “SWEET! Heavy, like cream. Floral!”) Adaari belch.
One burp later, Lucanis makes sure he has a nice ember going at the end of his fresh joint and his eyes catch on Rook, already slumped deeply into their usual seat and smiling dopily. Lucanis whistles low and bites back a giggle over the slow slide of their eyes over to him.
“And just how much have you all plied our leader with?” Lucanis asks, glancing over the team.
Harding shrugs from where Taash is gamely allowing her to check their throat for damage.
“Enough that they should have a healthy serving of rice if they wish to have any more,” Emmrich says, mock-severity on his features. There is the end of a finished joint faacing him in the ash tray and a half-empty pint forgotten on the table, too.
“Oh, boo,” Rook drawls out. Any affectation at a disagreement ruined by the way they lurch forward and nearly out of their seat and onto Davrin.
Thank the Maker for Warden constitution that he still had the reflexes and coordination to catch them with a hand on their chest and shove them back into the safety of the chair. Neve rolls her eyes as she begins to dish up two bowls, and as Lucanis rounds behind the couch (which is holding up very gamely under the combined weights of Taash, Harding, Neve, and Bellara when it’s closer to a love seat than a sectional) to his usual perch against the side of Emmrich’s favored chair, he smiles as Bellara has a bowl foisted upon her as well.
“Do you wish to sit?” Emmrich asks him quietly. Lucanis takes a deep pull off his fresh joint and sighs the smoke out of his nose happily.
“In a moment,” he assures the fussy necromancer.
Well – fussy, yes. But the way Emmrich fusses is sweet. It’s what has managed to reel Lucanis into his orbit, among other things. Like the long fingers made graceful by years of practicing magic gestures and writing long academic papers. And the excellent taste in finery displayed by the grave gold adornments on his arms, hands, ears, and – plenty of places none of the others knew–
“How is Spite?” Lucanis’ thoughts are interrupted by the object thereof. “I have been wondering how he might be effected by your inebriation.”
Lucanis blinks. Come to think of it, “he’s quiet. I haven’t seen or heard him around since halfway through my first smoke.”
Emmrich hums, and Lucanis looks down to see his brow crease in thought, “but you can feel him still, yes?”
It takes some doing, but… “Yeah. It’s fuzzy, but he just seems… Drowsy?”
“Interesting,” Emmrich taps his chin.
It’s then that it occurs to Lucanis, “you’re sober.”
“Mostly,” his paramour shrugs, “I have been preoccupied with the… Show the others have been putting on.”
Lucanis laughs, loud and sudden. Bellara nearly chokes on her food, and he throws her an apologetic glance. “This isn’t a college party you’re chaperoning, Emmrich.”
“I’m aware,” the scholar huffs, amused. “I’m simply quite entertained as I am.”
Lucanis grumbles, and Spite stirs for the first time in half an hour.
Entertain. More.
… Not a bad idea.
Emmrich had asked Lucanis if he’d wanted to keep things between them private, back when it was all new and shining and terrifying. They’d decided together that they could tell whoever they felt like whenever felt best.
Now feels pretty fucking good.
Turning and shuffling aside a bit, Lucanis tips himself back over the arm of Emmrich’s chair, dropping himself into his lap. He keeps his arms akimbo to avoid hitting him with an elbow or the lit joint, and he delights in Emmrich’s sound of surprise.
Good surprise. We like being! That.
Spite’s exponentially easier to agree with when high. This is at least a little dangerous, but fun enough for the moment. Lucanis wiggles until his butt is nested comfortably between Emmrich’s thighs, and he tips his head over onto a slim – but solid from all the staff-slinging and book-carrying – shoulder, looking up to find the utter vision of a man he’s coming precariously close to adoring has turned a bit red.
Manfred, who has been shuffling about happily with water for everyone, hisses cheerfully from beside Rook, whose jaw has dropped open in… Delight, Lucanis thinks? Shock, definitely, but he thinks their eyes are fucking sparkling.
“Lucanis? Dear?” Emmrich blinks down at him.
“Hello,” he replies.
STUPID?
“Spite,” Emmrich sighs, face soft and fond. Seeming to give into the situation that’s quite literally dropped into his lap, his shoulders drop and his arm comes around Lucanis’ back, his other hand resting on his knee. “He is not. Hello, darling.”
Lucanis preens, taking another drag. Turning his attention back out to the room, he catches the rest of the team’s reactions. Taash and Harding don’t seem surprised in the slightest. Nor does Neve. Figures that Taash’s nose would pick up on things and they’d tell Harding. Who had likely had suspicions about them already, being as observant as a scout of her class is required to have. Neve having figured it out isn’t shocking, but he does wonder what tipped her off, or why she’d look into it.
Rook seems to be getting over their initial surprise, but Bellara and Davrin both seem to have been hit from left field. Interesting, Lucanis wouldn’t have thought Davrin would care much. Bellara’s excitement is to be expected, though. She’s gone from her jaw being dropped open to a wide, toothy grin.
“Oh, you guys!” she coos at them. “Congratulations! I was hoping this would happen for you two! Not that – oh, that came out wrong, I’m so sorry. Uhm – I’m just really happy for you!”
Lucanis grins back at her as Emmrich laughs warmly. Bellara is a good and genuine friend to them both. Emmrich has voiced a few times how grateful he is for her ability to keep up with him on an academic level. Lucanis enjoyed their cultural exchange in the kitchen, too.
The break in the silence from the larger group seems to snap Davrin out of it. Spite snickers scratchily at the back of Lucanis’ skull at the thought of him having gotten stuck. It’s not entirely out of the question if the way his head flops back into Assan’s fur and feathers and he rolls his shoulders in a shrug that just so happens to stretch the muscles in his neck.
“It’s good to see you both happy,” Neve says, sincere. It makes Lucanis smile. He’d hoped she would approve; her opinion is held pretty high in his regard.
“Wait, some of you didn’t know?” Taash’s cups must be starting to catch up with them if they’re just noticing that now.
Davrin barks a laugh, which gets Rook going. It’s not even particularly funny but relief, alcohol, and weed is a pretty strong cocktail. The group dissolves in giggles and overlapping chatter. Nothing major has shifted, no harsh judgments or wild accusations flying like parts of Lucanis and Emmrich both had feared. As ever, Emmrich’s better judgment had been correct. Their friends only saw their relationship as yet another piece of good news on this already good day.
Well. Sometimes it’s nice to be wrong. Spite disagrees, but he’s also not complaining about the lack of stress and yelling, so that’s practically a wash. Lucanis’ nerves settle from the bristle he hadn’t even been aware they’d gotten rankled up into. Huh. Neve got really good weed.
Speaking of...
“Want some?” He asks, lolling his head – HEAVY! When? – to blink up at his lover.
Recognition connects something behind Emmrich’s eyes, but he doesn’t push or pry. He’s good like that. Consistently. Earnestly. It was a significant charm point of his. Instead, he shrugs and nods in a rare, casual “why not” gesture.
Lucanis smiles, Spite feeding him another idea that sits in the chest he is beginning to learn how to share. He sees a brief flash of magenta flicker back at him over green eyes and gold jewelry as he and Spite take a reviving drag from their guttering joint. Their other hand reaches up, fingertips nudging Emmrich’s chin towards them as they lean up and kiss him.
A sharp inhale from him, their tongue pushing against his lips, the feather-light kiss of lashes fluttering closed against their cheeks as mouths open and the smoke is exchanged. Emmrich inhales evenly and has the consideration to pull all the way back and purse his lips so the smoke would billow up towards the ceiling, rather than down or out into someone’s face.
“We looked away for five seconds, guys!” Taash pretends to complain.
Davrin whistles, “you weren’t kidding that time, Emmrich.”
“What time?” Harding asks, her giggles at Taash’s antics interrupted by the implications.
“Oh, we were out in the Wetlands this one time, and–“ Rook begins, but Davrin smacks at their ankle, leaning up with an embarrassed sound of protest.
Lucanis and Neve’s eyebrows raise as they turn to Emmrich for answers. Bellara looks at Never first, like she might know, then follows her eye-line and corrects her trajectory with enthused intensity.
“I will tell Assan to steal Manfred’s femur,” Davrin threatens.
“No!” Rook finally slips from their chair, falling into a heap over the Warden. Thumping and shouts and squawks come from the resulting pile of limbs as Assan forsakes his handler to wiggle out from under his head and pounce on them both.
Emmrich snorts in a lapse of his usual poise, eyes crinkling in amusement over the scene as Taash begins to rally Harding into a round of bets on who will win. In which Lucanis catches them both betting on Assan. Manfred is watching from where he’s safely tucked himself behind Rook’s now-empty chair.
“He made a… Paltry effort to fluster me, once,” the necromancer explains vaguely, amusement at the memory curling in the edges of his smile and voice. “I merely disabused him of the notion that I was some sort of prude. Nothing scandalous, I assure you.”
“Damn,” Bellara kicks empty air.
Neve snorts herself, then pulls Bellara’s attention to the kerfuffle the other four members of their team are making. “There will be other fuel for your stories, Bel. Like when Rook and Davrin figure their feelings out.”
No response from the wrestling match on the floor. Their mutual absorption in each other proving Neve’s point, really.
Emmrich takes the joint from Lucanis’ hands and takes a hit from it on his own, blows it out and up again, and then raises an eyebrow down at Lucanis when he quickly takes another.
Lucanis and Spite reach up for another kiss, smiling and feather-light.