Chapter Text
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The pantry was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood under Lucanis’s weight as he leaned against the shelving. The faint ache on his face from Spite’s earlier attack was a reminder that his control was slipping. He pressed a hand to the bruised area, willing the pain to fade. It didn’t but it at least was grounding.
“Pathetic,” came Spite’s familiar hiss, sharp and serpentine. “The great Lucanis Dellamorte, hiding from everyone like a scolded child.”
Lucanis closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. Spite always knew how to needle him.
“What are you afraid of? That they’ll see what I really am? Or is it that they’ll see you?”
The door creaked open, and Spite faded instantly, leaving only its oppressive presence lingering in the back of his mind. Lucanis straightened, adjusting his collar with a practiced ease that betrayed none of his discomfort.
“Lucanis?” Rook’s voice was direct but laced with concern.
He turned, his usual mask of composure firmly in place. “Rook. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
They stepped inside, their green eyes narrowing as they looked him over. “You weren’t at the briefing. The Caretaker sent me to find you. Said it was important.”
“I got caught up,” he replied smoothly, gesturing vaguely at the barren shelves and the growing grocery list.
Rook stepped further into the room, their eyes narrowing as they took him in. “Caught up?” Their brow arched, their lips curving into a skeptical smile. “You’ve got dust in your hair and a bruise on your side. What kind of ‘caught up’ involves that?”
Lucanis’s lips tightened briefly before he replied. “I didn’t realize you were a specialist in bruises now,” he said, his tone neutral but deflective.
Rook tilted their head, the smile fading slightly as their gaze lingered on him. “You didn’t let Spite get to you again, did you?”
Lucanis froze for the briefest moment before scoffing lightly. “Hardly. I can handle spite.”
“Sure you can,” Rook said, stepping closer. Their voice dropped slightly, quieter but pointed. “So why are you hiding in the pantry looking like you lost a fight with the shelf?”
Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught. Spite’s mocking laugh echoed faintly in his mind. “Tell them. See what happens. Or do you think they’ll be impressed by how much you’ve failed to control me?”
His jaw clenched. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice sharper than intended
Rook rolled their eyes but stepped closer, their gaze softening. “You don’t have to dodge, Lucanis. I can see you’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended. He regretted it immediately when he saw the flicker of hurt cross their face.
“Right. Nothing,” Rook said, crossing their arms. “Well, if ‘nothing’ makes you keel over in the middle of this mission, I’m leaving you in a ditch. Just so we’re clear.”
Despite himself, Lucanis almost smiled. “How considerate.”
Rook smirked, stepping even closer, their voice dropping slightly. “You know me. Always looking out for you.”
For a moment, the tension in the room shifted. They were close enough that Lucanis could feel the warmth radiating from them, their eyes fixed on his. His chest tightened, though he wasn’t sure if it was Spite’s doing or his own.
“Are we done here?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
Rook tilted their head, their smirk softening into something more sincere. “For now. But don’t think I’m letting this go.”
-----
The room was quiet, save for the faint creak of wood as Lucanis shifted in his chair. The narrow cot against the far wall beckoned, but he knew better than to give in. Sleep would come with a price, and it wasn’t one he was willing to pay tonight.
Instead, he sat by the small table, the dim light of a lantern casting flickering shadows across the walls. His dagger rested on the table’s edge, its sharp blade catching the light like a warning—a weapon he wouldn’t need tonight, but one that felt grounding nonetheless.
“You should sleep.” The voice was a low murmur, curling around his thoughts like smoke.
Lucanis didn’t respond, his hand tightening on the arm of his chair.
Spite’s presence thickened, the room growing colder despite the warm night air. “Or are you afraid of what I might say?”
He exhaled slowly, refusing to engage, but the demon wasn’t so easily ignored.
“Rook Rook Rook,” Spite continued, its voice lilting, almost playful. “You know, the way her hair catches the light. The way her eyes linger on you, even when she's across the room.”
Lucanis’s jaw tightened. “Enough.”
Spite chuckled, a sound that grated like broken glass. “why? She’s fascinating. So sharp, so stubborn. She’d be beautiful in anger.”
“Stop,” Lucanis said, his voice cold.
But Spite didn’t stop. It never stopped. It circled him like a predator, weaving through his thoughts with a venomous persistence. “Do you think she knows how much you watch her? Or are you too busy pretending you don’t care?”
Lucanis stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as he moved.
“You think you’re protecting her,” Spite said, its voice softer now, almost a whisper. “But you’re not. Do you think she’d stay if she knew the truth? If she saw what we really are?”
Lucanis’s hand gripped the windowsill, his knuckles white. He forced his breathing to steady, but the words seeped into his mind like poison, dredging up fears he’d fight to bury.
“No cutting remark?,” Spite remarked, mockingly patient. “It means you’re listening.”
“I’m ignoring you,” Lucanis said evenly, though the tension in his voice betrayed him.
“Oh, Lucanis,” Spite’s tone dripping with anger. “You can’t ignore me. Not when I’m the only one who really knows.”
The lantern flickered, casting erratic shadows across the room. Lucanis turned his back on the demon, his gaze falling on the dagger once more. He didn’t need it tonight—but Maker help him, the thought of driving it through something, anything, was tempting.
Instead, he returned to the chair, the scrape of wood against stone loud in the oppressive quiet. “You’re wrong,” he said, his voice calm despite the storm inside him.
Spite laughed, a hollow sound that filled the room like an echo. “Am I?”
Lucanis didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The demon’s laughter faded, leaving only the quiet creak of the chair as he settled back in, his eyes fixed on the dagger.
He wouldn’t sleep tonight. Not when Spite was watching. Not when it was waiting for him to falter.
-----
The road to the Rivain eluvian was long but mercifully absent of spite. Lucanis adjusted his harness - his hands methodical despite his restless thoughts.
“You’re brooding again,” Rook said, their voice breaking the silence.
Lucanis didn’t look up. “I’m thinking.”
“Thinking,” Rook echoed, their tone light. “That’s a serious face for just thinking. You look like you’re planning something.”
He glanced at them, arching a brow. “And what would you know about my plans?”
Rook smirked “Not much. But judging by that scowl, I’d guess it involves intimidating someone. Or trying to come up with how to convenience harding not to cook dinner tonight.”
That pulled a faint chuckle from him. “Your point? or are you just entertaining yourself?”
“A little.” They stepped closer, brushing past him as they adjusted their own pack. Their shoulder grazed his arm, a brief touch that sent an unexpected jolt through him.
Lucanis focused on the harness, his hands tightening on the straps. “We should keep moving. The minerals won’t gather themselves.”
“Of course, sire” Rook said with mock seriousness, offering a mock salute.
He shook his head, unable to stop the faint curve of his lips. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here I am,” they quipped, falling into step beside him.
As they walked, Spite’s voice returned, a low whisper in his ear. “They like you, otherwise why would they pick you over the better options at the lighthouse.”
Lucanis’s jaw tightened.
“Do you think they’ll still smile at you when they see me? When they know what you’ve done? What we are?”
He forced the voice aside, focusing instead on Rook’s steady presence beside him.
-----
Later, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, they stopped to rest near a cluster of rocks overlooking the sea. Rook leaned against a boulder, their gaze fixed on the waves.
“You don’t talk much” they asked, glancing at him.
“I speak when necessary,” Lucanis replied, his tone neutral.
Rook smiled, their voice turning playful. “Good thing I’m here, then. Someone has to fill the silence.”
They shifted closer, their knee brushing against his. Lucanis didn’t pull away, though his fingers curled slightly against his thigh.
“You’re awfully familiar,” he said, his voice low.
“Are you complaining?” Rook asked, their smile widening.
Lucanis met their gaze, his heart hammering against his ribs. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Rook laughed softly, the sound carrying on the breeze. “Let me know when you do.”
For a moment, the world seemed to narrow, the distant sound of the waves fading into the background. Lucanis wasn’t sure if it was Spite or his own thoughts, but something whispered that this was dangerous—too close, too exposed.
But when Rook leaned back, their shoulder brushing against his, he didn’t move away.