anothercontinuity | (no subject)

[ It does explain the Venatori's interest, at least. ]

Then I would hope it does not come to that. I rather like my city in one piece.

Mmh.

[ that distant, inward-facing look again while tony mindlessly chews. even after swallowing, it stays. in his hand the fork rests on the edge of the plate. ]

[ Sign enough that the personal questions are likely on hold, for a moment. ]

You'll be going back to the blacksmith's once you've recovered, I assume.

[ tony breathes in, but this time he has to crawl back to the surface. it hasn't really sunk in until tonight, how much he's lost. he hasn't allowed it to. ] Uh, yeah. Maybe. [ finally, truthfully: ] I dunno.

Edited 2024-12-06 20:29 (UTC)

[ He'd assumed, perhaps, that Tony would seek out stability. The thing he'd been using to assert his independence from Lucanis, from the Crows.

Maybe more had changed tonight than he thought. ]

You don't have to decide now. Just let me know.

[ with a half-hearted smile and whispered "sure," tony pushes his remaining pasta into one glob and shovels it in. strands slurped up, he drops the fork onto the plate and grabs the brandy glass, which he holds beneath his waiting, full mouth.

he's always known what to do. what the next step was. even after his parents died, the most lost he ever felt until thedas, there was an obvious path to take. here, he has nothing. ]

[ It isn't something he's readily equipped to handle. He's still dealing with the ramifications of his own imprisonment and torture, much less being able to help Tony through his.

But he has something, here. If he wants it. ]

...take what rest you need. I can have word sent to your blacksmith friend.

If you would. Thanks. Good noodles, by the way, [ tony murmurs into the glass before he downs half of it in one go. well, that's all the objectives he set out done, food being the last. now what? ]

I thought so.

[ Again, that faint quirk at the edge of his lips, before he draws himself out of his chair. Scarred fingers reach out to collect their plates to be taken back to the kitchens, as he debates whether to leave Tony alone for the remainder of the night or not.

Surely he's been through enough, for now. And it didn't seem he had further questions. ]

[ once he's gone, tony sighs and rests his back against the chair, the hand cradling the glass lowering to his thigh. from the kitchen drifts in the quiet clinking of dishware and then the faucet running. sometimes the water hits against wood or metal, ringing duller or brighter–the telltale signs of washing. the sounds soothe some part of him. his shoulders loosen.

idly, while looking down, tony tips the glass toward himself. an easy answer to "what next" is to get drunk, but once that passes, what then? he shifts the red brandy around inside like maybe answers will float to the surface or he can peek them at the glass' bottom, but it mostly just reminds him of blood, which he's seen more of tonight than in his entire life. you'd think someone who's designed methods of death for over ten years would have come across a higher volume of it.

he's not a fighter, a soldier, an adventurer, or a demon-infused master assassin. if he returns to the blacksmith's and the venatori snatch him up again, nothing he can do will stop him from falling under their spell.

what would you do, dad? he wonders, reaching for that familiar guidance. molded through an amalgamation of his memories and the newsreels, his father appears as an imposing titan, not because of stature, but because of importance and legacy. one tony was meant to carry on. "you're supposed to be smart, aren't you?" his father huffs. "figure it out."

afterward, the specter watches him. the silence from it spreads around tony like a great chasm, an expanse, empty on all sides, and with no footsteps to follow. ]

Edited 2025-01-30 22:08 (UTC)

[ It is not a silence he is left to for long.

Lucanis pauses for a moment at the door to observe Tony, lost in thought or memory or whatever else might capture a mind like his so thoroughly. It had been a close thing, coming across him before the spell could be completed. The Venatori know of him, would target him again.

And Lucanis...is not a protector. He has no training in such things. He is a killer, first and foremost. Yet he sees the pain on Tony's face and knows he must do all he can. Illario would argue that he doesn't have to do anything, that he's not his responsibility at all, and would groan out loud at the measure of effort Lucanis is putting into keeping him safe.

...it changes nothing. Both he and Spite agree, and that's rare enough on its own. ]

I suppose you'll want a liquid dessert, then.

[ A brief nod is given to the bottle, before he finally slips back out of the kitchen, passing through the patches of light cast by the nearby fire.

For just a moment, the shadow he casts against the carpet seems split in two. ]

[ bearing a distant, blank stare, tony doesn't raise his eyes past the table, even at lucanis's voice. instead, he breathes the deep breath of someone steeling themselves on a diving board thirty feet too high and then glances at his half-full glass, which one corner of his mouth briefly scrunches up at. ] I'd prefer for it not to be red, [ he says lowly before he sips it anyway–half a joke, half the truth. ]

Edited 2025-02-02 01:21 (UTC)

I can find something else, if you'd rather.

[ But it isn't really the drink, is it? Not entirely, at least. ]

If you want to try and rest, it may help. But if you don't think you'd be able to, I usually stay up to see the sunrise. The view from the rooftop is...calming, in a way. Settling.

[ before tonight, tony wouldn't have pegged lucanis as the type to sit and watch the sunrise, nor the type to cook or to carefully tend to someone's wounds. he thought that he had the man figured out: lucanis was an assassin, paid to kill, with an unusual sense of justice tacked on, one who comes from old money and whose motivations were to benefit himself. (in hindsight, that last part was the distrust talking.) but there's more to him. tony just never cared enough to look deeper, not into him, or into many things about thedas. ]

I think my mood better suits brooding in a dark corner, which–hey, plenty to pick from, [ he murmurs dryly. then, tony softens and continues, ] But thanks. Maybe I'll take you up on that one day. [ he owes lucanis at least that much. ]

Edited 2025-02-04 01:03 (UTC)

[ He owes him little, at least to Lucanis's own mind. Mostly, he needs to rest, to recover from the horrors he's faced mere hours ago, and Maker knows how long that will take. Tony is a strong-willed man, but what he faced...

Well. It's taken stronger men and broken them irrevocably, hasn't it. ]

It's a prerequisite of any Crow house. There must be a dark corner for every new initiate. How else are they to practice?

[ The corner of his lip tugs upwards. ]

I mean it, though.

[ here, tony looks up at him. there's no joke, no offhanded dismissal or snipe at the crows. too much has changed for that now, and lucanis needs to know it. ]

Thank you.

[ Something has unquestionably shifted between them. What that new paradigm is, he cannot say. This is new territory...perhaps for the both of them. Sincerity is certainly a new look for Tony, some newfound steel under the swagger.

But it feels a moment that deserves a certain weight, regardless.

Lucanis's smile tempers to something smaller, but more genuine. A quiet nod. ]

...Would you like me to stay, tonight? I have some dossiers to go over, but I can do that here just as easily.

[ tony's eyes briefly drop back to the table before he decides, ] ...No. I'm all right. [ lucanis has gotten him back onto his feet; that's all tony can really ask for. the battle from here is mostly in his own head. ]

[ There's no disappointment in his expression, merely an accepting sort of nod. ]

Well. I won't be far.

[ But Tony is his own man, and having that choice, that control, will be more valuable. ]

[ as lucanis's footsteps fade down the hallway behind him, tony counts them, his mental tally ticking higher until they pass out of earshot. (the numbers are comforting. no matter what, math has defined rules, and tony knows them all intimately. he can fire off complex equations in his sleep.) then, once he's alone, he looks straight ahead at the wall, breathes deeply in, and whispers to himself, "okay," before he stands and snags the brandy bottle to take it with. if he recalls correctly, the study upstairs is packed with books on geography, politics, culture...any number of topics about thedas. a couple about magic, too. it's as good of a place as any to start. beats just moping until the torchlight sputters out anyway.

maybe, as he finally looks deeper into thedas and uncovers more of the terrain around him, he'll find his answers. the right path to take. maybe then, with any luck, he can "figure it out." ]

Edited 2025-02-12 04:24 (UTC)