Veilguarding - an open post for DAV AU shenanigans

[smartass_captain]

It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it. Masterpost for Dragon Age Veilguard AU overflow + psls

Comments

shut up and dance with me - fake dating, dancing

[coldjustice]

[ it had been a joke. she had honestly meant it as a joke. but then one of her cases turns up a lead that requires her to bring a plus one to a soiree and she knows things just got a lot more interesting. not necessarily the good kind of interesting, but interesting.

well, likely also the good kind, since she's invited jim to go with her. better to have back-up she can trust with this.

so, after gifting him an outfit that will work for this soiree, and teaching him as much about how to pass for tevinter as possible, she takes him up to the soiree in question. dressed in her own tevinter finery, she arrives on jim's arm, ready to look the part of an altus with her companion. her nerves are on high alert as they descend into the crowd. time to see if they can find this clue.

having given jim a briefing on what they're looking for — a relic that seems to have changed hands multiple times and might be related to a recent murder — she knows they are as prepared as they can be. ]

We're looking for anything that could possibly lead us to our relic. Time to mingle and listen. Ready for it? Just remember what I taught you.

God that dress is fire.

[smartass_captain]

[Technically speaking, Jim's here to pass as soporati. Which means noble blood means nothing even if he was being honest and Neve is the talk of the town here. But what Jim lacks in magical bloodline he more than makes up for in looks. He's spent days people watching in Minrathous to find the best styling for his hair that matches local fashion, browsed half a does tailor shops in the city before Neve agreed on an outfit that would be appropriate for this sort of event, and worked on hiding his Marcher accent as best he could.

The end result has made him a perfectly presentable trophy partner. All looks and charm with little else. He won't ever be fit to be the altus' husband of course, but plaything? Of course. Why not? He's handsome and fills out the attire he's been spoiled with quite nicely.

A lovely pet anyone could be jealous of.]

Of course, Amatus. [Teasing. But Jim's pronunciation is MUCH better than it had been. He's been practicing.] Smile on, ears open, teeth clenched so I don't give away my expression when the hate crimes start.

right??? it's really good for tevinter formal

[coldjustice]

Keep that up and you'll have me swooning before the night is over.

[ a return tease, as her fingers wrap a little tighter around his arm to show that she appreciates his presence. she's not much happier that they have to be here, among all these venatori and altus supremacists, the slavers and classists and all manner of others just as awful. but at least they aren't alone in this. they have each other, to talk to and get through this with. two heads, two minds of sanity amidst the horror. ]

All right. There should be a dance number soon, if the soirees I've been invited to in the past are anything to go by. We can use that to scout the other attendees, see who might be interesting, skirt by anyone speaking. For now... we mingle. Might be someone who catches our attention or whose attention we catch.

[ neve wasn't born into nobility the way jim was, but she'd had a decent enough education simply because she was a mage. the rest she'd learned by watching.

she turns slightly, guiding him around the edge of the ballroom as she casts her gaze around to find someone who looks interesting enough to intercept. ]

There's a pair in red and white robes off to the side. They've been watching us for a full minute. We can slowly drift over and make it look coincidental, but they'll know it isn't. They want to talk and I'd like to know why.

[smartass_captain]

[He lifts his brows once to acknowledge it but then settles his expression soon after. One deep breath at Neve's side. Two. He purposefully tells himself to relax his jaw and plaster on his best well practiced mannered smile. Every part the lordling he was raised to be, freshly shaved and hair styled. His posture perfect as he is lead by Neve along the outer edge of the dance floor in no hurry to go any which way.]

It's a good thing we've been practicing. Shockingly, my upbringing did not include Tevene formal dancing, but it was easy to learn.

[Stiff he means, compared to what he's already been taught. Though it did make the going easier. Jim has still ensured he took the time to practice in the time he had to prepare for this event.]

Do we need to worry about poison in the wine? I'm resistant to such things but I wouldn't wanna spoil Your evening.

[A quiet murmur that's not even Half tease. It is a little, but only a little. Jim doesn't look at the couple Neve's describing right away. Better not to be obvious. Rather, he makes a show of reaching up to pat the back of her hand where it grips his other arm and gestures for her to lead them on.]

On it. Spotted a couple individuals doubletaking at us so far, but it looks just to be envy for the moment. None of the Help have so much as lifted their gazes to us, so no one's ordered anything rash that I can tell.

[His murmur is just as quiet as her own is, covered by the placid, handsome smile he keeps on his face to bely nothing of what they speak of.]

[coldjustice]

[ for her part, neve knows tevinter and venatori well enough to play the part. body language upright and confident, without being rigid. her tight grip on her companion's arm may well be a show of possessiveness, a warning to anyone else who might take an interest in him that his patron is unwilling to share.

his practice of customs and dances means that their chances of passing through unnoticed are even higher. ]

Always, [ she says, in response to the question about poison. they'd be fools to discount that. ] It won't be enough to kill, but certainly enough to make things interesting. I wasn't planning on drinking anything unless I need to. We can play it as true snobbery if asked.

[ only the best for this tevinter mage and her pet. whatever's offered here just isn't up to her standards. ]

Let them be envious. One of them might approach later to talk to you and we can twist information out of them then.

[ she guides him around the edge of the room, taking in the dance floor with the proper aloof interest. the two who caught her eye initially lazily meet them halfway. ]

Drink? [ one of them asks her, holding out a glass of what can only be wine.

neve sniffs with distaste, nose slightly wrinkled, but doesn't bother to even lift a hand in dismissal. ]

What they serve in these "parties" can only be described as mud. Our interest stems from a curious rumor. Haven't heard anything, have you?

I hear the host plans on presenting something to his esteemed backer tonight.

Hmm. Well, they're certainly doing a good job of making us wait.

[ she huffs slightly. the conversation soon turns to her companion and neve switches on the jealousy and protectiveness before extracting herself and jim to continue on their walk around. ]

That tells us something but not enough. Could be our relic, could be another.

for @the_other_dellamorte

[smartass_captain]

[From Here!]

[Placeholder - i'm gonna tag this i just wanted to get a captcha escape up first]

Re: for @the_other_dellamorte

[the_other_dellamorte]

[  no problemo but if you want me to set the scene, if you want to do action, just say! ] 

The true strength of the Wardens

[smartass_captain]

no


It starts with a set of explosions loud enough to shake the trees. Draws out the darkspawn down the hill from the camp and toward the commotion. It's been slushy and muddy in Ferelden for weeks as the winter months loom ever closer. Prime targets for a supremely pissed off Warden with a penchant for dropping things on Darkspawn to trigger a slide in the cliff face. Bringing rock and mud and soil alike down like an angry river to clear out the masses while the Warden stays perched in his lookout firing arrow after arrow until his fingers are bloody from the drawstring picking off the stragglers.

The wet wood resists alighting when they fire back at him.

One of the arrows sizzles where its pierced through the toughened leather of his armor but missed the skin and bone beneath leaving Jim with only a graze. Harding's bow soon joins his from another vantage point. Neve's ice magic helps keep the ground unwieldy. The targets ripe for acquisition.

And when an ogre gets too close, roaring bile and blood up at them, Jim stows his bow, draws his blades, and leaps down to plunge one directly into the monster's eye socket without a shred of fear. He bounces when he's thrown but manages to turn himself over to skid to a halt. Rob's bruised. Maybe broken. Problem for later.

[the_other_dellamorte]

The explosion and the roar that follows it sound like an avalanche. A torrent of mud and debris just to the south of his current position, and it's enough to momentarily distract Illario from slitting the throat of the undead monstrosity trying to eviscerate the refugee child from the horse farm. He could curse Dennet's stubbornness, passed on to his children who had opted not to leave their horses and druffalo - until it was almost too late.

The little one is screaming and crying as he grabs her up, shields her as best he can with his larger frame, and frantically looks about the ruins of Calenhad's Foothold—but it's free from Blight, and the majority of the Darkspawn are rushing down the hill, which gives him precious seconds.

"You'll be just fine, bambina." He says as he tucks her closer into his chest before he makes the desperate charge across the open space towards the only structurally sound tower. Darkspawn grab for them, but force of will keeps him going- before he launches himself up onto a ledge and catches it with his fingers. He's hauled himself up walls one-handed before, but not with the added weight of the child and for a moment he isn't sure his grip will hold- but then with a scrabble of feet finding holds in the ancient stones, they're up. Feet move fast across the narrow ledge, until he can clamber up onto another tier of stonework, up to the very top of the tower. Both he and the girl toss themselves behind the ruined battlements just as a projectile catches him in the thigh. Not an arrow, just a piece of the tower one of the big ogres has slung in their direction.

It takes him a moment to breathe around the pain of it, drawing the girl up to him again and murmuring some reassurance, before he sits up and looks towards the source of the explosion, expecting to see a horde of undead and darkspawn spilling out of the mountainside. But that isn't what he sees at all.

Jim. His Jim. Here. Even though Illario told him to stay away. He could curse him, watching and unable to do anything as Jim launches himself from his perch, crashing into one of the biggest darkspawn and stabbing that ogre in the face.

Illario almost feels the impact as the howling monster throws Jim to the ground. The world seems to stop, not moving for several long minutes, although it's probably less than a second because Jim is moving, getting to his feet.

"Get up, get away amore, come on, come on-" He repeats under his breath, but then there's the child's sharp, terrified cry from behind them, and he wheels around to see a darkspawn appear over the ruined battlements. There's no more time to watch Jim. Illario moves, a long, wicked dagger in hand, as he moves to put himself between his charge and the darkspawn, slicing at limbs and faces, taking a wicked pleasure when they shriek and drop down onto their brethren below.

The first wave, never more than a couple at a time, he can deal with, but it doesn't stay that way. Soon, there are half a dozen, and he feels the exhaustion in his limbs begin to slow him down. He knows he doesn't have many options left. And the Crow emblem remains pinned to his armour, a pretty decoration with a dark purpose.

He doesn't even have to debate the choice. Fingers move across the metal, the wings as sharp as the blade in his hand, scoring through skin and into the pads of his fingers, old magic stirring with the taste of his blood, freely given, and he feels the power in his life-force begin to gather in his hand. Half a heartbeat more, the tiny fog of blood pulses in his hand, full of raw power and like a true mage might throw fire, Illario throws the energy forward, knocking the darkspawn off the tower with a yell.

It won't keep them away, but it gives him half a second more to breathe, look over his shoulder, and find Jim in the chaos.

@the_other_dellamorte Tools of the Trade

[smartass_captain]

It started with a comment the first time Jim had shown Illario around his quarters in the Lighthouse:

You have an alchemy kit for making Poisons, bello moi?

"They're likely not poisons the way You'd know them, though I've no doubt they'd fuck up or kill a living man if they got into it. I know how to make concoctions for eating away at Darkspawn flesh or locking up their joints so they can't fight as effectively. Aside from that kind of caustic mess I sometimes whip up to smear on my arrows or blades I don't really know much about the trade." That wasn't the kind of light footed sort Jim had trained to be. He knew his way around a set of lockpicks as well as any rogue. Better than most, even, since his days of joining the Wardens.

But a poison kit? He's always viewed it with a bit of discomfort. For a man who has always been a scout rather than an assassin, it's been the one tool of the trade he's neglected to learn as well as he perhaps ought to.

After all, there are so very many creative things one can make with a kit such as this. Things outside of a normal potion seller's purview....

[the_other_dellamorte]

There's so many good, basic suspensions and oils in the little kit. Viago might tsk at how basic the kit is, but there's probably only a handful of people in Thedas better at poisons and potions than Viago De Riva, and he can be a bit of a snob. As far as Jim's needs go - it does everything it needs to. It could probably do even more besides.

And that's what had him thinking. Suspension of Dragonthorn, crushed ginkgo, and oil of maca. They're all there, and he'd only need some of his own supplies: harlot's blush, fenugreek seed or root if he still has some, foxite, and just a bit of pomegranate. It's not really necessary, but Illario has always liked the flavour.

It just takes time to make, to get the quantities right, and of course, to share the idea with Jim.

He holds the little vial in his hand - there's two mouthfuls in there at most, a beautiful shifting concoction that looks purple in the light of Jim's meditation room, but is actually more of a pale pink in normal sunlight. It doesn't look like much, but Illario's taken it enough times to know just how well it works, and as he lets Jim study the vial now, he straddles his lap, knees planted firmly into the couch, and his free arm curling around the other man's shoulders.

"I trust you," He murmurs, his fingers playing in the short strands of hair at the nape of Jim's neck, "And while the others are away, this is probably the best time to try it. I can't promise that I'll be quiet, or that I'll behave, or that I'll be anything less than a bitch in heat, but-" he says, the purr coming into his voice, "I think that might be fun, don't you think, bello amore?"

[smartass_captain]

It's not like they're lacking for space in the Lighthouse. Illario could little by little move over as many supplies as he wanted here, make a right fancy little apothecary out of one of the spare rooms. Or just build a little private stash of supplies to make use of Jim's kit with. Jim had waved him off without any supervision at all when Illario had said he wanted to use it. Of course Illario's welcome to. All he'd done was point out which supplies he needed to keep well in stock of for his own work and let the Crow experiment as he pleases with the rest of it.

Which is how he ends up straddled on his own couch, peering up at the Crow who looks so very mischievous right now. He cocks an eyebrow.

"You want to take it? You don't want me to...?" He'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious. And if Illario was taking it himself it surely wasn't going to Hurt the man. "What...what do you want me to do if you do? Anything in specific?"

[the_other_dellamorte]

Illario could just move himself into the Lighthouse, take up residence in the Music Room where the light is good enough for him to do his make-up (sorry Jim the meditation room is so blue) and have his clothes set out and there would be room for a decent set of furniture. All his potion ingredients can mingle freely with Jim's own.

But that's not what matters right now, its all about what they want. What they want to experience together.

"You can take it too, if you'd like. Have you ever had an aphrodisiac?" He asks, shifting a little to bring himself closer into Jim's lap, horny enough without it, truthfully. "I can't predict how either of us will react. But it will make you very, very eager to fuck, or be fucked, for... I should think two hours, perhaps a little more. Self control goes out the window."

Jim's welcome to try it, Illario doesn't mind. He just wants to enjoy that frantic need with Jim, more so than anyone he's used this potion with before.

Where's he gonna sleep? +1 Lighthouse member

[smartass_captain]

It's just after evening rounds when movement is heard past the main hall where the Hossberg Wetlands' Eluvian sits stashed away. This isn't unusual: Rook tends to come and go as he pleases at odd hours. Brings his troupe with him sometimes. Comes alone others, when he's checking on the Wardens' newest recruit. But the light steps of Jim Kirk don't materialize. Instead it's two of his team that step out offering polite nods to everyone they pass by.

Lace Harding's a known face here, too. A welcome friend of the Wardens. And well. Taash? Anyone who's seen them once recognizes the Lord of Fortune when they walk past. But their leader isn't with them. The two exchange a few words with Antoine and Evka before a call goes out and someone's fetched to go find Illario Dellamorte where he's just back from the gate.

He's being summoned.

Well Jim, where IS he going to sleep?

[the_other_dellamorte]

It's exhausting work. Not that being a Crow was not, but Warden work requires a different sort of outlook than a Crow's. For a start, he does much less of this on his back. Secondly, fighting a half-dozen darkspawn and several undead is a lot more physically taxing than the same number of standard guards. He's less likely to have the element of surprise.

Their patrol didn't have it tonight, but the group of darkspawn was smaller than usual, and they took it out with no losses or major injuries- although Illario is still picking gore off his Warden uniform when the messenger finds him returning to Lavendel. The Veilguard, she says, which in itself is strange because they usually say Jim.

He heads up to the Warden outpost in double time, a faint hint of something unsettled in his stomach- and sees for himself Taash and Lace Harding stood around with Evka and Antoine.

"What is it? Where's Jim?"

He can't help himself. They all know by now- carrying Illario, dying, through the Crossroads probably didn't leave much room for interpretation on Jim's feelings either, although knowing him, Jim would almost certainly do that for a significant number of people.

"Where is he? Is he hurt?"

They'll figure it out

[smartass_captain]

"At the Lighthouse." Taash replies, blunt as ever.

"Illario!" Harding puts up her hands in a placating gesture after shooting Taash a Look over her shoulder for not helping diffuse the situation with their reply. "He's fine, mostly."

"Is he?"

"not helping, Taash."

"That's why we came here though. To get him." Taash points to Illario directly. Harding sighs.

"We know you were going to come to the Lighthouse anyway sooner or later, and we came to get you a little early. Rook's. Jim's not resting well, and none of us can get him to take it easy. Taash caught him talking to himself in the infirmary earlier but you know him. Put on a smile and said he was fine the second anyone saw him."

Illario doesn't take up much space!

[the_other_dellamorte]

Illario clocks it as soon as Taash says is he? because if it is one thing they are all universally bad at, it's helping Jim get outside of his own head. It isn't that they don't try, Andraste's holy cabbage do trhy try, but Jim can push on through their protests and stubbornly do what he wants. Illario won't let him get away with that.

He almost forgets himself, but years of being a Crow make him hesitate.

"Permission for me to go to him, Warden Evka?" He has to ask, despite the fact he's already mentally in the Lighthouse. He doesn't need to take anything. Nothing he has here is worth taking if it takes even a minute to grab. They need to get to Jim.

"Send us a message if you need our help." Antoine answers even as Evka nods. "Go to him."

"Thank you." He says, and then his attention is back on Taash and Harding as he goes with them towards the Eluvian.

"What was he saying?"

For @the_other_dellamorte : How it Started

[smartass_captain]

Please, Rook. It would mean a lot to me.

"Jim can you maaaaaybe stop glaring for two seconds? People are staring." Lace leans over and elbows her Warden companion in the leg. The man's so damn tense he could shit bricks, she's pretty sure. "We can always just go back to the Lighthouse. You should have said no if you weren't comfortable--"

"It's not about being comfortable, Lace!" Jim snaps. He freezes immediately after. Pivots at the waist and turns to look back down at one of his oldest friends staring back up at him with worry etched across her features. Her scarred features--because she took the fall when Rook fucked up his very first mission in command. Varric insists she doesn't blame him for it. But she should. Jim certainly does. Jim Kirk, 'Rook' to most of the team, drags his hand through his mop of blonde hair and sighs.

"This is part of...whatever Lucanis needs to get back on even footing. I've been down to Kal-Sharok with you. If Lucanis needs me to attend a family dinner for him for a few weeks then that's what He needs."

"....And what about what You need, huh?" Lace says, but knows already won't go anywhere. It's always been like this. Since they were barely more than kids back in the Inquisition. Scout Kirk would support anyone when he was in camp. Always there with a shoulder to cry on. Never seemed to slow down to deal with his own feelings though. His own troubles. And now? With everything barely holding together? Lace Harding is starting to wonder if what breaks Rook won't be the Elven Gods but exhaustion.

Physical. Emotional.

"What was that?" Jim calls over his shoulder. Right on cue. Classic Kirk behavior. Play the dumb stupid himbo blonde when it means he doesn't have to talk about his own baggage.

"Oh, nothing." Harding remarks. She peers up at the wrought gates of the Dellamorte estate. "You sure you don't want backup?"

This time when Jim smiles, it's at least more genuine. He has no idea how tired it makes him look. Like a truth he doesn't know he's showing. Lace knows Jim would rather put an arrow in Lucanis' cousin for all he's done to their companion rather than sit down to tea with him. She just hopes no one goads Jim into doing it while he's spending time here for....however long this 'periodic check-in' ask is going to take.

"Ahh, I'll be fine. Watch out for the others for me while I'm gone, alright? We've only tried to kill each other before. How bad could it be?

[the_other_dellamorte]

However bad it could be, Lace never gets to say. From the doors of the main house, figures emerge, one slightly ahead of the others, tall and slender, black haired- there is no doubt about who that might be, even if he is not wearing his Crow leathers. But the figures behind him are hooded and masked, dressed in typical Crow armour, and it's impossible to tell exactly who they are.

What is clear is that Illario is not expecting Warden Rook, because his footsteps pause for a minute and then continue, after a flurry of Antivan between the three.

Illario keeps his pace even, very much straining to do so. Running will get him nowhere fast - it will be interpreted as an attempt to attack Rook, although that is very much not what fills his mind when he sees their Warden. His face seems set, as if he doesn't feel anything, but it hides the fear coiling in his gut like one of those Tevinter serpents.

He's stopped about three metres from the gates, grabbed at the elbow, and while it's not close, it's close enough to see the tiredness in his expression too, although the darkness under his eyes and the sallowness of his skin is hidden beneath make-up.

"Where is Lucanis?" He calls out, as one of the attendants, not holding his elbow, comes to unlock the gate and allow Jim entrance.

"He was meant to come today. What happened to my cousin?" There's an edge to that voice. Fear. Concern.

[smartass_captain]

Rook pulls a missive written in Lucanis' hand out of his pack and waves it as he's ushered in by one of the attendants.

"Lucanis has other work on his plate at the moment, so I volunteered to come in his place." The Warden offers a polite bow of his head toward the trio of Crows once he crosses the threshold. Turns only once to wave back at the dwarf who'd accompanied him this far. "Don't let them burn the place down while I'm gone, alright?"

Lace Harding shakes her head but turns to leave. And Rook remains on House Dellamorte grounds alone, now.

"Teia and Viago send their regards." Jim's pretty sure whatever that means to Illario it's probably a threat but he'd promised he'd deliver the message and honestly? He's not exactly crushed if it is a threat given everything this guy's done to his own family up until this point. As much as Jim really hates this guy, he and Lucanis agree about one thing. People can rehablitate. People can change. Jim's seen some of the worst people he's ever met turn into allies he'd trust with his life.

But they can't change if no one gives them the chance to.

So.

Here he is. Against his better judgement. As a favor to Lucanis. To see if Lucanis' cousin is as bad as he's been made out to be.

"Got a problem with that?"

[the_other_dellamorte]

Sharp eyes want to reach out and grab that folded parchment as soon as he sees it, recognising Lucanis' hand even at a distance. But Rook waves it, rather than passes it over, and while Illario strains to hear anything from the man that was, once, more brother than he was cousin, he knows that letter is likely not for him. The realisation of it is cold and hard, but at least it means Lucanis lives. As long as he lives, Illario can withstand any indignity. Even being shunned.

"It is kind that they think of me." Illario murmurs, because yes, he knows that threat for what it is, and he knows the two guards at his back are probably from House De Riva or House Cantori. There are after all, no other Crows in House Dellamorte to ensure his good behaviour.

"With your attendance? No. I was only... surprised." Terrified. "Coffee I think is going to be served in the library? If you would like."

He can play at being a good host. He will be a good host, not to let Lucanis down any further. If Rook returns and tells him Illario refused to see him or was ingracious in any way, he doubts Lucanis would be pleased. Not in the same way Caterina would be displeased that he let the Dellamorte name down yet again, but displeased that Illario mistreated Lucanis' friend. So he will try to live up to Lucanis' expectations.

The guards at his elbow are mindful to keep him away from Rook, just as they would be if Lucanis was there, and so when they walk back towards the house it is at a measured distance, and when they enter the great library, Illario makes sure to sit diagonally opposite Jim, even as a servant brings coffee.

"Do you want to pour yourself a cup? I would offer- but I do not think my attendants would approve."

A Kingfisher amongst Crows - for @the_other_dellamorte

[smartass_captain]

The Dellamorte boys are still young when the Fifth Blight rocks much of Southern Thedas.

Antiva's rich soils and coasts are spared from all but the furthest scouts of the Darkspawn horde. What few Wardens lived there heeded their summons only to die in Ferelden. Possibly more Boon to the Crows who rule Antiva in truth than a burden. Yet the Crows have ties all across Thedas. Contracts are lost forever, contacts driven from their homes or killed. Safehouses lost to Blight.

A few unlucky of the flock get infected or die on their ways back to Antiva.

And one particular favor comes due. A letter delivered to Caterina Dellamorte written in simple, understated Ostwick cursive. A familiar hand for the First Talon.

George Kirk has instructed his family to flee back to Ostwick while he rides to Ostagar to aid Ferelden in their fight. He and his family had been in Ferelden for diplomatic reasons but ever the knight, George would not turn tail and leave Ferelden to its fate.

I am claiming the boon I have earned. Take care of my family should anything happen to me.

George has no way of knowing it's too late for most of his loved ones. That when the Crows follow the path his family fled, they'll only find one young boy, the spitting image of his father, hiding in a stack of rotting hay with his hands clamped over his mouth to disguise his panicked breathing. He'd mistaken the crows for more darkspawn. Impossible to tell how many patrols missed him hiding here. With a bit of food and drink in him he passes out on the horse he's placed on.

James Tiberius Kirk.

The last remaining member of the Kirk line alive.

I wish I had lil Illario icons

[the_other_dellamorte]

Caterina no longer rides out on her own contracts. Hardly past fifty, her once sprawling family was similarly cut down, not by Darkspawn, but by far more mundane enemies. The care of her two orphaned grandsons keeps her in Treviso, unless the business is truly pressing. The rescue of George Kirk's family is such an event, and while she does not like to leave Lucanis and Illario alone, they are young men in their own rights now. No longer little boys, but proven Crows who have successful contracts of their own under their belts.

Even so, they remain in Trevio, guarded by those she trusts, and she brings the boy who will one day be Lord of Ostwick to the city. There he will be safe for the time being.

A few days of riding, a few more on a ship, and they arrive in Treviso. Its towers rise into the sky, the glass glints in the bright sunlight, and the markets hum with life. There is little fear of darkspawn here, despite the threat- Treviso is built on ground too wet and too low to have tunnels buried below it, where Darkspawn might emerge from.

Be assured, the woman with grey in her black hair instructs the young James Kirk, He will be safe here.

They take a boat through the city: canals like roads filled with shallow-bottomed boats and gondolas, simple rafts or more complex vessels, and here and there a cloaked figure watches from walls or busy cafes. But at last the canals open up to a lake in the basin of the hills with mansions on its shores. They dock at the grandest, and servants move to tie the gondola securely and help the passengers out.

Where are they? The woman says, not in common tongue but in the musical language of Antiva, as she hits the steel end of her sword cane against the ground. It is not the cane the elderly might lean on, but something borrowed from Orlesian fashion- and a useful place to store a blade. But at her orders, two boys appear, not much older than James himself. One taller, blue-eyed, the other shorter with eyes dark as coffee, and both bow at the waist in perfect unison.

"Welcome home, Caterina." The shorter one says, the taller repeating the greeting just after. But while the shorter boy looks at his grandmother, the tall boy looks directly at James, head tilted slightly, expression curious.

"Boys, this is James Kirk. He will be staying with us now." Caterina says, switching to accented Common tongue and gesturing for James to step forward. "James, these are my grandsons. Lucanis-" on cue, short one bows, "-And Illario." Followed by the taller boy.

I only have the one lol

[smartass_captain]

Caterina had James washed, fed, and looked after by a healer while on the trek back to Treviso. He's no longer in his ruined stockings and coat of the Marcher fashion, but rather clad in a little pair of black shorts and a button up in more of the Treviso fashion. Mourning colors, given how red and puffy around his bright blue eyes are. He's the shortest of the three boys at this age. All bony elbows and knees with a mop of bright gold-blonde hair.

"It. It's...a pleasure...to meet you." James sounds out in Antivan that has never been handled more roughly, so thick is his Marcher accent. But he learned the words for something to distract himself with at one of the Crows' tutelage during their trip back. His bow is at least as practiced as theirs. He stares down at his feet once he's finished his greeting.

Lady Caterina has promised he would be safe here. But James still misses his family. By now word of the fate of Ostagar has spread to those with eyes and ears across Thedas. It means the first news Caterina will be given when she begins to catch up is that George Kirk has fallen along with the Wardens and King Cailan Theirin in Ferelden.

The young lordling is truly alone in the world now.

[the_other_dellamorte]

The butchering of their mother tongue is something neither of them comments on, not in front of the boy but more importantly not in front of Caterina. Their lessons on manners were both strict and intense.

"You can help us practise our Common." Lucanis says brightly, his own Antivan accent strong but he switches easily between the two languages, and the younger cousin nods.

"And we will help you. Let us show you the house?" Illario offers, and Caterina gives a very slight nod of her head, pleased with both of them for taking this little orphan lordling under their wings.

"This way." Illario continues, linking arms with the young blond, and starting towards the grand villa. When they are out of hearing, he gives the other boy's arm a squeeze.

"We will look after you. We lost all our family too. Apart from Caterina. So we are all together, in the same boot."

"Boat. You mean boat, Illario."