For much of his life, Lucanis Dellamorte could do little but allow the tides of life to carry him along. He was always only as good as what he could be: a mage killer, an assassin, a future First Talon— until Rook came along, bursting into his life in a flourish of wit and determination.

And suddenly, his carefully constructed walls— his protection— was chipped away little by little.

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With the world no longer in turmoil from the threat of the Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain, there was little else to do besides rest. The Veilguard, now tentatively disbanded, moved on to continue their lives.

Lucanis needed to be in Treviso, and (of course) Rook wasn’t far behind. His rock. His reason for living. Life in Treviso settled surprisingly quickly, and Rook settled in right along side him— like they were meant to be at his side.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Sunlight trickled in through the sheer curtains of the kitchen in their home in The Dellamorte Villa, illuminating Rook’s face in a gorgeous glow. Their hands worked meticulously at a particularly dirty pot, their determination drowning out their senses just enough for Lucanis to sneak up.

Warm hands wove their way around Rook’s midsection, pulling them back against the solid weight of Lucanis’ chest.

“Mm, the bed was too cold without you, mi vida,” he breathed into their ear as he nuzzled into the side of their neck.