[ truthfully, she's only been charged with the Diamond for a handful of years. since a few months past her ascent to Seventh Talon. but, for as little background and practice her family had in running a business as successfully as, say, House Kortez, Teia had taken to it like a fish to water. nothing happened in the Diamond that she didn't know about in some capacity. that reached all the way to the nooks and crannies, through every rank–crow and help alike.
which is to say: she knows the exact moment that Viago de Riva arrives.
even if she hadn't caught the whispers or the faint sound of a carriage (expensive; the wheels turned too nicely) pulling into the rounded drive, she would know. over time, she's built something like a sixth sense for Viago's presence. it's strange to think. a younger Teia would have balked at the mere idea that one singular man could hold such sway over her. now, though, she merely smiles at the prickle she feels at the back of her neck; as if Viago being in the same building meant he filled it with the same charged air he carried within his personal bubble.
knowing he was likely to be a bit grumpy from being cooped up in a carriage for hours at a time, she gives him some time. just a little. it affords her the ability to square away some of the contracts she's been reviewing for a better part of two hours. eventually dropping the rejected papers into their sorting bin, she gets up to stretch, eagerness setting an itch under her skin. she does not rush to the upper floors, but there is, perhaps, a spring in her step.
as is habit, she doesn't bother knocking once she does reach the door. moreover, the Diamond is hers, so naturally she has a key for every lock. it's not like she's going to catch Viago unawares, anyway. even if she still holds out hope that one day she will. swinging the door open, she saunters in, walking a loose loop around the familiar floor plan to see where he's set his things down. nosy as ever. ]
You've made yourself comfortable, good. I trust the location is to your liking?
[ she casts an amused little smile over at the glass enclosures, the late afternoon sun streaming in and casting the occasional small rainbow across the polished wood floor. turning her gaze from the trio of snakes, she observes Viago himself, keeping a lid on her pout when she sees he's lost some weight since she saw him last. instead, her expression warms, sorely tempted to sink her fingers into his hair to take some of his tension away. ]
And did you bring two trunks this time, Vi? If I didn't know better, I'd say that was a sign of permanence.
[ he senses her before he hears the door opens, and he allows himself a small private smile to himself (typical teia, who refuses to respect a single shred of privacy because no one has told her off) before settling into his more familiar sigh, setting another vial in its place carefully as teia noses through his belongings.
he doesn't look up, not yet, but she carries with her the scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and coffee. he can almost taste it. focus. ]
How do you do, welcome in, of course you can have a tour. [ mildly, finishing his arrangement before turning to her, watching her flit about the room to her liking before settling into one spot. her hair cascades around her shoulders, framing her face. somehow even more beautiful than the last time he had seen her, lips framed into not-quite a pout as she teases him. he casts something of a long-suffering look at his luggage. ] The First Talon advised of a longer stay in Treviso than normal; I couldn't leave them behind.
[ the snakes, that is. he doesn't trust anyone else with them, and they have precise feeding schedules. also, emil bites. so, the additional luggage was necessary to bring what was needed for their care, in addition to his portable laboratory.
his eyes rove over her, once. she looked well, mostly. perhaps a bit tired. aren't they all. he slides his gloved hands into the pockets of his trousers, to avoid curling and uncurling his fingers with the urge to cup her face within his hands and kiss her. ten seconds, and she's already trapped him in her web. ]
You look... [ gods. what does he even say. ] Good.
[ she replies easily, cheekily, falling into the rhythm of their conversations. this was what she was always eager for, their little tit-for-tat. Viago, much like his precious reptiles, had such a searing bite in his words. hearing his dry tone never failed to cause that bubbly feeling in her stomach, like she's had too much champagne. ]
Mm, she mentioned. She wasn't altogether specific, though. [ just what was Caterina cooking up? normally, Teia could wheedle it out of her with enough time and effort. this time, though, she'd been rebuffed every time.
putting it from her mind for now, shes's just glad to have Viago close by for an extended stay. closing some of the distance between them, she looks at him looking, a smile curving her mouth at the clumsily delivered compliment. reaching out a small hand, she pauses just before her palm makes contact with his bare cheek, head tilting in a question: is this okay? ]
You look thin. [ thinner but no less handsome, in her opinion. she cannot resist the magnetized pull she feels when they're in the same space. even now, with the tired circles under his eyes and the gaunt exhaustion and road dust, she wants so very badly to drag him into the plush behind her and kiss him senseless. ] No one at House de Riva to make sure you're taking care?
[ there's the slightest hitch of his breath as her small hand lays against his cheek, but it isn't for paranoia or anxiety crawling into his throat. . . . well, perhaps a bit. there was no stopping it, really, but increasingly, teia's touch was found to be safe. she would never hurt him, which terrified him in a different way.
still, she had hesitated, which caused warmth to bloom in his chest. it only increased at the warmth of her palm against his cheek, something she almost had to stand on her toes to do. so he slides one of his hands out of the pockets of his pants, reaching up to take said hand in his own to tug it away from his face, only to squeeze her fingers gently. clearly thankful for the gesture.
but, in a dry tone: ] Taking care? After our catastrophe last year, the Crows of House de Riva would sooner not see me at all. [ viago wasn't exactly a pleasant person to see on a good day, and he had worked twice as hard to restore honor to his house's good name after rook's... incident. everyone was kept on a tight leash, and should the master of the house not need to see you, then that was considered a blessing. ] I'm left to my own devices, for the most part.
[ which, for most days, is a good thing. now, though, he gently tugs teia a little closer, seemingly giving in to her spell, the last remnants of tension in his form, so he could bring her fingers to his lips for a kiss. ]
Though I suspect you will give me no peace, while I stay in Treviso. Given I'm wasting away before your very eyes.
[ as usual, the first amount of contact unfurls the desire for more like a flower blooming in the light of spring. but, she knows pushing the boundaries while Viago is still warming up will end in disappointment for them both. so, she is patient, waits until he returns the touch, his long fingers folding over hers and giving them an affectionate squeeze. the unspoken thank you shines in his eyes, a faint crinkle of happiness tugging at the corners.
if she didn't know him, she never would have been able to pick it out. she's spent countless hours learning how to read and speak Viago, though, and was probably the best aside from Rook. Viago's not one to show his fragile feelings in a way that's obvious, instead opting for a subtlety that often felt invisible. sometimes, it's been frustrating. Teia has settled on being glad that she gets these glimpses, because focusing on the negative is something she leaves in Viago's court. ]
I think your Crows and Fledglings like you more than you would imagine, Vi. [ that isn't to say they're going to be overly friendly towards the head of their house. easy camaraderie and being able to switch between that and being a leader was not a skill Viago was particularly good at. ] Do I need to start corrupting an upcoming Fledgling to keep an eye on you while you're in Salle?
[ she asks around a grin, letting herself get reeled into his embrace. the grin softens as he kisses her fingers, her heart skipping its usual beat; how he always manages to make her feel like she's indulging in a girlish love, she doesn't know. perhaps he has poisoned her. or used one of his influencing balms. a cologne, maybe. whatever the case, she gives in willingly. ]
Peace was never an option, as you well know. Clearly, signore, you're underfed, underslept, and underkissed, if you need my professional diagnosis.
[ on that note, she leans into his hold some more and gently tugs her hand free so she could wrap her arms around his middle, chin against his chest as she keeps his gaze. ] I missed you.
[ he only rolls his eyes at her first suggestion, because he knows it's not an empty threat. viago is shocked that she doesn't have eyes in salle already, to be honest. keeping tabs on him, reminding him to eat. but his expression softens almost immediately as her small form folds against his, arms looping around his waist. it has an instantly soothing effect, her weight against his.
teia was so... delicate, but viago knew there was steel underneath those fine bones and high cheekbones. she could kill him easily, from this angle. a blade between his ribs, sliding neatly into his heart. how she kills all of her marks, though viago doubts any of her entanglements begin like this. so intimately.
he tries not to think about it, most of the time. it causes his stomach to churn. he would rather take his daily dose of adder's kiss than consider someone else touching her, however foolish and possessive it was.
he brushes a few loose curls out of her face before cupping a hand against her neck, a gloved thumb running along her cheek. missing her felt so incomplete. he ached when he was away from her. underfed, probably. underslept, that was typical. underkissed, well, there was only her. he would never allow anyone else to get this close. ]
Mmm. [ he doesn't agree or disagree with her assessment, which means she is correct. he's too busy resisting the urge to kiss her. ] I wanted to be here sooner. [ but the antaam needed to be pushed back in his own section of antiva, before arriving in treviso. he soon gives in to his impulses, just a bit, by pressing a kiss against her forehead, a soft sigh escaping. ] I missed you, too.
[ a pathetic understatement. ]
But you've now gotten hundreds of malms of travel on your shirt. [ for his fussing, he doesn't seem inclined to move, speaking into her hairline, his lips still against her forehead. ] I hadn't gotten the chance to shower before you waltzed in.
[ the touch of his glove against her neck and along her cheek has her tilting her head towards the contact, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment. the impatient part of her wishes she could tear the leather off and guide his bare hand under the double layer of her shirts. but, another part of her enjoys this quiet moment, the fragility and rarity of it feeling suspended in time.
a master seductress, she's no stranger to touch. in fact, she's experienced so much of it over her career, in so many configurations. Viago is far from the first to hold her in a similar way; he is the first to do so in such a genuine manner, though. a gift in itself, as he's the last person anyone would expect to let his prickly armor fall away.
this is a treat, just for her. so, she gladly tucks her head under his chin as he swathes her in more affection, the familiar tickle of his beard along her brow making her smile. ]
Always so much to do. [ that goes for both of them. she doesn't begrudge him for taking a while to come back–the Antaam were persistent, well-equipped. and while Salle feels so very far away, Antiva is not nearly as large as their neighbors; it would only be too easy for the Antaam to overwhelm them in the countryside and surround the cities. ]
Never mind that, I'll need to wash up and change before dinner in any case. [ it's her ritual. ] Besides, you know a little dust won't stop me. You've barely even got mud on your shoes.
[ not that she took particular pleasure in being a mess, but she wasn't nearly as neurotic about it as Viago is. ]
[ dinner. right. a hard thing to keep in mind as she tucks her head underneath his chin, enveloping herself in him as she makes herself comfortable. her fingertips are against his back, and viago wants nothing more than to nudge her to bed and fall asleep. but... dinner.
so he squeezes her once before guiding her face up so he can give her a brief kiss, exhaling softly against her mouth as he gently untangles them. resisting the urge to keep going, to sink his fingers into her hair and tug her head back just enough to expose her throat. it will never stop if he does that, and as teia pointed out... there is much to do. ]
May I have the privilege of accompanying you to said dinner?
[ in a teasing tone, running his thumb against her cheek a final time before letting go. ]
After you spent your requisite two hours showering and selecting what to wear, of course.
[ for as neurotic as he is, showering and getting changed tends to be a quick affair. maybe a bit longer, given he isn't in his usual home in salle, but it isn't as if he owns much to go through. teia, on the other hand, has too many clothes to fit into a single wardrobe, and selecting the perfect outfit often takes much longer. not that he minds. the end result is always worth it. ]
[ although it is brief, nearly chaste, she can sense he's holding himself back as much as she is. perhaps to reacquaint himself with this much touch. or perhaps just exercising control over himself, as he usually does. or maybe feeling the unspoken question hanging between them. they had parted on friendly enough terms, certainly. and greeted each other in such an affectionate way, also true. but, each reunion felt as though they were always wondering what am i, to you?
for now, she puts the familiar question–with its equally familiar memory, of Viago staring down at her with intensity and longing lacing all the hushed syllables of only if i'm a footnote–at the back of her mind. there would be time later, to sort such things out. ]
Such a gentleman. I gladly accept your offer.
[ she smiles, swaying just slightly after his light touch. and then she stops herself from rolling her eyes, settling for giving him a playful swat on the shoulder at his teasing barb. ]
As I've said: it takes time and effort to look this good. Besides, consider my magnanimity in giving you all that time to reorder your poison case and stretch those ridiculously long legs of yours.
[ long legs she cannot wait to see out of their current leather clad casing. that is for later. for now, she must think of what to wear. there are so many options to ring in a more acceptable greeting. ]
[ he takes the swat on the shoulder with grace, as it is likely deserved. he does look a bit amused at being told he's going to reorder his poison case, and almost informs her that it is always in immaculate condition when he begins to think through whether or not that is actually true. things may have shifted in transit, after all. and though everything is immaculately labelled, maybe some need to be replaced.
... maybe teia has a point. ]
You look perfectly fine. [ beautiful, as always, but he holds up his hands slightly in surrender at her insistence; far be it for him to tell her how long to get ready. it is a battle he has never won, and he does not plan to start now. ] But I'll take the two hours to stretch my legs, if they're being given out freely.
[ he responds with his usual insistence that she looks fine. of which she does not doubt—she never looks like she has a hair out of place, if she can help it. and she knows he's sincere, consistent; he will say the same thing when they wake in the morning and she's as lovingly rumpled as their bedsheets.
her need to primp isn't because she thinks he's wrong or that she lacks confidence. more that it does feel nice for her to take extra time to dress up and do her makeup and extravagant beauty rituals—all so she can watch him fluster and blush. or look at her with a rapturous gaze that will darken over dinner. there's a satisfaction in it. ]
Such a charmer. [ she says, giving him an affectionate pat on the chest before finally stepping away. ]
We shall. [ Teia smiles, feeling that eager flutter under her skin. she stops by the door, though, turning a bit to cast a glance over her shoulder. ] Do try to relax, Vi, there will be plenty of time to get wound up while you're here.
[ and perhaps she'll be doing some winding up of her own, later. ]
[ the small smile at being told he's a charmer is involuntary, though it soon turns into a slight frown and a roll of his eyes at being told to relax. there is a nice tension, though, that settles underneath his skin, at her thinly veiled suggestion.
gods, he loved her. it was a problem.
it took a matter of moments to fully unpack -- despite teia's note of having two trunks, he really did not bring a lot. his shower is a quick affair, scrubbing himself clean to get dressed in a comfortable, but put together, outfit. something in between completely casual and of utmost formality. in sum, about as buttoned up as he always looks.
he does note, with some amount of dismay as he pulls on his gloves, that the vest that goes with his coat is slightly bigger than it usually is. which means he has, indeed, lost a little weight. annoyed, he slides into his coat, because teia will never let him hear the end of it once she gets through the many layers.
... that thought cures any irritability at her being right, and once he ensures all requisite poisons, antivenoms, and tests are safely packed within his walking stick, he realizes he still has about an hour before he is to meet teia in the lobby. plenty of time to stretch his legs and take a walk around the diamond, questioning various crows for information.
caterina is also in, and viago takes ten minutes to greet her. or... he tries. the first talon takes one look at him and rolls her eyes, shooing him away with a hand and a muttered andarateia under her breath. he takes the sign for what it is, crisply tells her that he will be present first thing in the morning for whatever she needs, and he makes his exit quickly.
teia is a far better shield against caterina's moods than he is, after all.
he finds himself in the lobby a bit early, checking the silver watch in his pocket for the time once before he watches people come in and out of the diamond. ready to gamble, or stay the evening. thieves and scoundrels, wealthy spenders and tourists. he makes mental note of the suspicious ones, taken in entirely by his task of memorizing the people who seem out of place that he does not notice it is nearing the time he agreed to meet teia in the lobby in the first place. ]
[ ever the hedonist to Viago's utilitarian, Teia takes her time bathing.
for one thing, filling the tub is always a process, especially for how hot she likes her water to be. and once that is done, it's a matter of selecting the right oils and combination of scents to match the mood. then, there's the actual cleaning–her hair alone takes awhile, with how thick it is and how carefully she has to manage the curls. she shaves as well, feeling particularly decadent and craving the aftermath of dinner being spent tucked under the silky sheets, the slide of them a satisfying delight against freshly bared skin.
once she has finally dragged herself out of the bath and patted herself dry with a towel, she obviously has to pick out a dress that will be the right amount of devastating and upscale. thankfully, she already had one in mind, having pondered it in the bath. perhaps a wrinkle in her usual slower dressing: she's eager and wants to soak up as much time with Viago as she can while they have these precious moments to do so. which is why, instead of taking her requisite two hours to bathe, dress, and do her hair and makeup, she takes at least twenty minutes less, including strapping a knife to her upper thigh.
before stepping out of her quarters, she takes one last look in the mirror–satisfied by her handiwork. swathed in a deep burgundy, so deep it almost shone purple under certain light, and pearl-accented heels to match her ear studs, she already knows no one will be able to look away when she enters a room.
too bad for them she's only interested in one man's attention.
with utmost grace, she makes her way to the lobby down the personal set of stairs near her quarters, which leads out into the main attached hall from a hidden door. it's quicker, than going down the public staircase. it also lets her take a few precious seconds to admire Viago on her approach, without him noticing immediately. he's buttoned up to his neck, as expected, but even with the slight gauntness of his face and frame, he cuts a handsome figure in his blue-green-black coat and trousers. her heart gives a familiar flutter and she takes that as her cue to make her entrance. ]
I take it you'll know every high-roller tonight before I do.
[ indeed, viago has memorized each individual worth knowing that has strolled in the doors, including the ones who are apt to cheat. he hears teia's footsteps before he hears her voice, and he doesn't move his eyes from the tourist exchanging coin for chips as he says: ]
Not every high-roller; only the ones worth --
[ but as he turns to meet her gaze and stop being rude, he's struck by... her. swathed in burgundy like royalty, glittering pearls tucked amongst the curls that cascade around her bare shoulders. the dress itself clings to her bodice, but the skirt touches the floor, and as viago lets his eyes trail downward (past her chest, because he's half convinced she's going to spill out of it), he can see the slightest peak of her thigh through a slit in the dress, where the glint of steel flashes that shows she brought a knife.
gods, he won't survive the evening. when was the last time he touched that much skin? months ago. since he last saw her, touched her, tasted her --
-- what was he saying? ]
-- Teia.
[ after a long moment. what was he saying? irrelevant. stupid. it was a stupid thought. whatever it was. ]
[ he doesn't look at her at first and she isn't offended; she knows he needs to finish his thought, his observations, before he can tear his attention away. she could tell he was casing each individual as they came through the elegantly carved doors, assessing the danger and tucking those mental notes away for later. truthfully, she feels a surge of affection–a real sign that she's missed him more than she thought, over these past few months.
of course, she isn't disappointed when he finally does turn to meet her gaze, the blue-green of his eyes going almost comically wide. for him, anyway. his eyebrows have gone up a couple fractions and his normally controlled expression going a bit slack in shock. behind the surprise is a flash of desire, of longing, so sudden and acute she has to take a steadying breath before it was stolen from her.
as befitting two Talons, anyone looking on would have no chance at discerning what was happening, aside from (somewhat accurately) knowing that they were assessing each other.
still, she can't help but acknowledge his momentary lapse with a dazzling smile, noting exactly where his eyes had lingered. for later, naturally. amused and flattered in turn, she steps forward and easily loops her arm in his, her expression softening into something more warm. ]
[ part of him wants to say no, because dinner seems... pointless, when she's dressed like this. still, he quickly recovers, her small arm looping through his as she effortlessly takes control of moving their evening along. he clears his throat, letting out a breath before beginning his escort to the waiting carriage.
(however lovely a walk through treviso is, it wouldn't do to get teia's dress dirty en route to the restaurant.)
he helps her into it, sliding a hand in hers to let her use it as she steps into the carriage. he soon follows suit, closing the door neatly behind him. there will never be a carriage in existence that allows for him to be completely comfortable, but he can tolerate it for the fifteen minutes or so it will take to their canal-side restaurant reservation he had made earlier that day.
they can take the gondola back, he thinks. it'll be prettier with the lights.
he settles his arm along the back of the seat, not quite around her shoulders, but leaving more than enough room for her to settle next to him. and he glances down at her, allowing himself another look at her outfit before he says: ]
Is this new?
[ he asks, casually, dipping his head slightly to press a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling briefly to enjoy her familiar scent. ]
[ above the din of the casino (even the lobby was noisy at this time of day), she can hear him clear his throat and she stifles a laugh. it isn't often she throws him completely out of his tight control, but when she does, the victory is as sweet as the freshest spring fruits.
naturally, she gives none of this away to any observers, keeping graceful pace with Viago's longer strides. funny, how she's become so used to walking next to him that falling in step is as easy as breathing. a simple in and then out, with barely a thought.
charmed, she takes the offered hand up when she picks her way up the steps into the awaiting carriage. and as he follows her up, she arranges her skirts neatly so they don't get crumpled on their way. their new arrangement, of course, may also show the peek of her thigh better than before.
coincidence? never with her.
still, she wastes very little time in cozying up next to him a bit more, conscious to leave him breathing room while he was still working himself up to getting acquainted with this much touch again. the lean line of his body is warm so close to hers and she is tempted, not for the first time tonight, to melt into his embrace and nuzzle her face against the side of his neck. ]
I had it made for a contract but couldn't bear to see it destroyed if things went sideways. So I kept it for a special occasion, instead. [ not exactly new but not old, either. her story is also mostly a truth. she had seen the final product and could not think of anyone else's hands running so reverently on the fabric except his. letting a contract spoil it would've felt–dirty, somehow, with that image so etched into her mind.
the light press of his lips makes her pulse pick up, a syrupy sense of want settling in her stomach. ]
[ he wants nothing more than to draw her close and kiss her, but viago has learned from experience that he needs to ease back into his more physical affairs with teia. it's hard to resist, though, hence the kiss to the top of her head. the tiniest bit of affection until they have all evening with one another.
said kiss turns into a slight frown, at the news it was supposed to be for a contract. it's foolish to be... irritable over the idea; teia has a job to do, and viago has never once held it against her, how she gets the job done. but the thought of someone else's hands exploring her causes his stomach to churn, and the news that teia had not brought it along on said contract causes his frown to turn into a slight smile, huffing a soft laugh into her curls at her ridiculous question. ]
Do I like it. [ he repeats in a murmur, letting his arm drop just enough to let his gloved fingers ghost over her barred arm to touch the fabric along her side. he can't feel it, of course, but there was time for that. on the ride home, he thinks. he won't need the gloves past dinner. probably. ] Hmm...
[ confident that the driver has more important things the focus on (like the road), viago dips his head enough to press a kiss to her temple, then her ear - tiny lapses in control that end with a smile pressed against her cheek. ]
I do. [ he decides, ending his tiny affections with a soft kiss against her cheek, letting his arm drop a bit more fully around her shoulders, careful not to disturb her hair too much -- she had worked so hard on it, after all. ] You could be the Queen of Antiva, in such a gown.
[ she could, an annoying little voice says in the back of his mind. he ignores it. instead, viago adds: ]
I am a little concerned you are going to be freezing, though, by the end of the evening.
[ his echo of her question has her grinning, familiar with the particular tone. not quite teasing but not full on flirtatious indignation either. to her, it's a voice of promise, of good things to come.
a lead up, just like his gloved caress along her bared shoulder, down her arm to her side, leather rubbing against the textured silk. goose flesh travels in the wake of his touch and her breath catches minutely when he leaves a featherlight kiss on her temple, her ear, and a gentle one to her cheek. she lets the shiver she'd been suppressing finally run through her, just in time to lean into the curl of his arm around her shoulders. still careful with her touch, she sets a small hand on his thigh, thumb idly tracing the side seam. ]
As far as I'm concerned, I already have more than the Queen.
[ which is...not totally true, but isn't untrue, either. Viago has said as much, about his own position—being Fifth Talon meant he wielded more power and influence than his father did, in this country. for her, much the same rings true; Antivan queens have never been toothless, but she carries more weight as Seventh Talon than royalty does.
(but maybe she has indulged in the ultimate fanciful daydream that Viago makes the bid for the throne he's considered in the past and decides to take her as his queen.) ]
I have you to warm me up, of course. [ she tilts her head back enough to look at him, giving him a warm but cheeky smile. ]
Did you purchase a tiara to add to your wardrobe while I have been in Salle, hm?
[ undoubtedly she owns one, somewhere. it tugs at the back of his mind, this latent urge he has had more and more since the antaam had invaded. antiva required an actual defense, and the crown was all but useless. sometimes viago felt as if he were the only member of his family (if he could call it that) that gave half a damn about how to do something properly. and, perhaps more importantly, viago was the only one who had not chosen exile. possibly the only one who could still strike for the throne.
teia would be a positively insufferable queen. the thought makes him smile a little, to himself, as he turns his attention out the window. they were nearly at their destination, though he catches her look out of the corner of his eye, returning his gaze to her briefly. seemingly unimpressed with her plan, but he does huff a soft laugh to himself. ]
Of course.
[ for one, he would never let her stand outside and be cold, however much he complains about teia's impulsivity and lack of thinking things through. for another... well, his eyes flicker to take in her outfit once more as the carriage rolls to a stop. he has never been less interested in going to dinner, but steeling his resolve, he nudges open the door on his own accord to climb out of it relatively gracefully, turning to offer teia her hand so she could step down without wrinkling her gown. his attention, though, has already turned to the restaurant -- a higher class affair, settled directly on the canal. and while he knows teia is hardly defenseless, she is also not exactly wearing something well-suited to defending herself. so he keeps ahold of her hand, gently squeezing her fingers as he directs the carriage to remain until their dinner is complete. ]
On the water, or inside?
[ he asks, keeping her relatively close. they have their pick of table; the owner of the restaurant will clear any table the fifth and seventh talon ask for, if it's occupied. ]
I already have a collection. Who was it that said I should be prepared for anything?
[ really, it's a common enough mantra amongst the crows, especially ingrained in their training as fledglings. one could never know what can happen on a contract. it was considered of utmost importance to be ready to change at a moment's notice or to modify the original plan.
Viago, though, took that paranoia to a near-ridiculous degree. his backup plans had backups. ever prepared for so many eventualities, he's sternly reminded her of the same advice in the years they've known each other. sometimes, it's enough to drive her mad.
but mostly, she thinks of it and it warms her through. his tone may sound aggrieved or nagging, but she knows it's one of the ways he shows he cares.
the other way is what he offers now, without hesitation—the embrace of his arm, the fine leather and silk warmed line of his body next to hers, and as the carriage comes to a stop, the offer of his hand down. she had figured out early on that he didn't like to be touched. so to allow himself and to seek it out, even encased in gloves and buttoned up to his neck; she knows how much he pushes through to do so. it's brave.
(it's love, supplies her mind, and she gently shoves that off to the side as they sweep up to the restaurant's entrance.) ]
On the water. Even with the Antaam here, Treviso's sparkling canals cannot be dimmed.
[ it's something she's always loved about this city. the less romantic part of the answer is she likes to have an immediate exit, if needed. dropping onto a gondola or straight into the water was a quick way out.
giving his hand a squeeze back, she only lets go to loop her arm once again through his. they certainly make quite the pair, she thinks, as she catches their slightly distorted reflection in the handworked glass panels flanking the maître d's podium. used to seeing one or both of them here, they're easily ushered to their preferred seat on the attached overlook. the soft breeze coming off the water is partially blocked by a vine-covered trellis and a neatly curated half wall with planters. in this cozy corner, tucked away from the noise and Viago sternly staring down the menu, she could almost pretend things were normal. ]
How have you been, in Salle? I heard much about your efforts but very little about you.
[ as was customary from Viago. it took great effort for him to drop his professional mien, even in personal correspondence. ]
[ the fact that teia has a collection of tiaras does not surprise him, though he does have a fun time as they move into the restaurant (toward their favorite outdoor table, as teia requested) envisioning her collection. only the maker knows how much she spent on them. in comparison, his wardrobe is practically barren, though he never sacrifices in quality.
image is important. he just has to strike a very different image than teia does. and, perhaps, teia just loves getting dressed up more than he does.
he settles into his chair comfortably after pulling out the chair for teia out of habit, unbuttoning his jacket as he does so. there is a natural unease as their host pours them water, his eyes flickering to the liquid once as he sets his walking stick to lean against the table. he loathes eating out. it was a lack of control that always set him on edge, but this was the one thing that he refused to sacrifice. teia deserved better than always eating in, neurotically screening every single molecule for poison.
the menu is carefully curated. his eyes scan the menu briefly, relieved to see that the options present were what he prepared for, in terms of testing. after scanning the table once (no odd sheens on the tablecloth, no powders or spilled liquids, everything imacculate), viago decides he can relax. sort of.
a small vial of clear liquid appears out of nowhere (his sleeve, perhaps), and he answers teia's inquiry as he drops a single drop into each of their glasses. whatever it is, viago seems pleased with the reaction -- the water looks the same as it was when it was poured. ]
The Antaam have been driven off my doorstep. [ mildly, though he doesn't go into much more detail than that; you never know who might be listening, after all. ] Emil bit a new recruit, which provided a satisfying lesson in not touching my things for the fledglings present.
[ he takes a sip of his water, swallowing it before exhaling slowly. he can relax. this thrum of anxiety was stupid. he had already tested the water, and the meal was going to be fine. and, realizing he didn't finish his story, he adds, seemingly unbothered: ]
[ she watches him work, waiting to take a sip of water until he gives a pleased nod. it had been tiresome, in the beginning, to weather his extreme paranoia; she hadn't understood him as well. now, it's simply routine. and in a strange way, it's become almost soothing to watch. ]
What was their fascination, to even want to touch your scaly little friend?
[ while she isn't afraid of snakes, she certainly isn't bold enough to reach her hand into a tank with a species of unknown or possibly dangerous origin. even now, when she's fairly certain she could handle Emil, she leaves it to Viago. no use in tempting an accident. ]
Don't tell me you're disappointed they made it through. [ she teases, knowing full well that Viago cares more about his Fledglings than anyone would ever attribute to him. the joke also serves as a way to help lighten the tension she can feel in the air–something he typically carries with him, in situations when poison could be on every surface. as another counterpoint, she reaches across the table to put her hand over the back of his clenched fist, slowly dragging her thumb along the ridges of his knuckles. ]
And neither of those things were about you, Vi. I know you've not been sleeping or eating well, but surely there's something of note you've been up to.
[ as if to demonstrate: ]
Nonna gave me some pointers on embroidery, so I could restore this antique shawl I found at the market. The woman said it dated back to the Exalted age, around Madrigal's time.
[ which. she doubts. but even so, it's a little project that keeps her hands busy. she could easily bring it to a modiste to fix, she knows. there's something nice about having something unrelated to the blood and violence in her life to focus on. ]
[ viago shrugs, both to teia's question and her tease at being disappointed that the fledgling made it through. for one, their fascination stemmed from a natural curiosity. for another (and far less forgivable), viago was fairly certain the boy had done it on a dare from his comrades. he had learned his lesson handily, which is what viago really cared about. he certainly wouldn't be touching snakes again for the foreseeable future.
his eyes flicker to her hand resting over his, and he wills himself to uncurl his fingers, gently taking her hand in his. the waiter would be back soon to take orders and drop off a bottle of wine. he tries not to think about what to do next, in terms of testing, and instead focus on the woman sitting across from him. who, despite his many and varied flaws, seems to enjoy spending time with him, and thensome.
he finds he can't answer her question, what has he been doing. she wants something personal, something charming and wholesome, but he truly doesn't have anything to say aside from missing her with such fierce longing that he found himself miserably staring out the window at night rather than sleeping. he does, though, look amused at the thought of teia trying embroidery, and he turns her hand over in his, so he can see her palm. and, most importantly, the tips of her fingers. ]
Is that why you have pin pricks? [ she has no such thing, but his tone is teasing. ] For this holy shroud of the Exalted age.
[ similarly, viago doubts that that is true. but he is glad she is doing something for herself. something relatively benign. safe. she expects him to say something in return, though, and viago hesitates, his thumb running along her palm in thought as he tries to summon... literally anything except miserable solitude. ]
I drew different flora while in Salle. [ that's. something? though it stems back to work, really. a catalog of the local wildlife is useful for harvesting different herbs. but he does enjoy doing it, he supposes. ] Portions of the gardens have gone into bloom, despite the fledgling's best efforts to kill it.
[ it was a mistake to entrust them with taking care of his beloved garden. ]
[ his gaze drops momentarily to the hand she's laid over his and she can tell he's bracing himself for the next motion. but, she sees the decision fall over his expression, minutely, just as he's turned his hand over to cup her hand in his. a soft smile turns her mouth up and she gives his hand a small squeeze, encouraging–for both the contact and for him to answer her question.
Viago, for better or worse, has always been driven. dedicated, in a way many Crows could stand to emulate. the trade-off is that sometimes, work takes over his entire life, blurring the edges of his personal time or erasing them entirely. it leaves him taut and aloof, the stress sitting all along his slim shoulders. in their recent encounters, she's been trying to get him to relax in a different way. more subtle than before; which was usually just them getting into an argument when he would be distracted while she was trying to kiss him into submission.
for now, she's at least slightly satisfied that he's keeping his focus on the question, lightly teasing her about her new hobby. ]
Tsk, I haven't bled on the shawl. I save that for the practice. [ while she handles knives and other sharp implements with finesse, the small detail work of needles has definitely led her to pricking her fingertips while getting used to the motions. perhaps it's best Viago hasn't been around for her early practice...he might've been very anxious about how many poisons only needed a pinprick to enter the bloodstream.
she decides not to say as much, focusing on the slow sweep of his thumb across her bare palm, letting him have time to form the thought that's clearly sitting on the tip of his tongue. ]
It's resilient, like its primary caretaker.
[ he did survive being bitten by an adder, after all. ]
You'll have to show me, I don't know what starts blooming in Salle this time of year. [ embarrassingly, she's not too familiar with the bloom schedules of a lot of plants–she's been a city girl her whole life. even with the training on poisons in her Fledgling days, she cannot claim to have even a fraction of the knowledge Viago does.
more importantly: she likes to look at his art. he's much better than he thinks. perhaps after all this upheaval, she could convince him to enter some of it into a salon. ]
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which is to say: she knows the exact moment that Viago de Riva arrives.
even if she hadn't caught the whispers or the faint sound of a carriage (expensive; the wheels turned too nicely) pulling into the rounded drive, she would know. over time, she's built something like a sixth sense for Viago's presence. it's strange to think. a younger Teia would have balked at the mere idea that one singular man could hold such sway over her. now, though, she merely smiles at the prickle she feels at the back of her neck; as if Viago being in the same building meant he filled it with the same charged air he carried within his personal bubble.
knowing he was likely to be a bit grumpy from being cooped up in a carriage for hours at a time, she gives him some time. just a little. it affords her the ability to square away some of the contracts she's been reviewing for a better part of two hours. eventually dropping the rejected papers into their sorting bin, she gets up to stretch, eagerness setting an itch under her skin. she does not rush to the upper floors, but there is, perhaps, a spring in her step.
as is habit, she doesn't bother knocking once she does reach the door. moreover, the Diamond is hers, so naturally she has a key for every lock. it's not like she's going to catch Viago unawares, anyway. even if she still holds out hope that one day she will. swinging the door open, she saunters in, walking a loose loop around the familiar floor plan to see where he's set his things down. nosy as ever. ]
You've made yourself comfortable, good. I trust the location is to your liking?
[ she casts an amused little smile over at the glass enclosures, the late afternoon sun streaming in and casting the occasional small rainbow across the polished wood floor. turning her gaze from the trio of snakes, she observes Viago himself, keeping a lid on her pout when she sees he's lost some weight since she saw him last. instead, her expression warms, sorely tempted to sink her fingers into his hair to take some of his tension away. ]
And did you bring two trunks this time, Vi? If I didn't know better, I'd say that was a sign of permanence.
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he doesn't look up, not yet, but she carries with her the scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and coffee. he can almost taste it. focus. ]
How do you do, welcome in, of course you can have a tour. [ mildly, finishing his arrangement before turning to her, watching her flit about the room to her liking before settling into one spot. her hair cascades around her shoulders, framing her face. somehow even more beautiful than the last time he had seen her, lips framed into not-quite a pout as she teases him. he casts something of a long-suffering look at his luggage. ] The First Talon advised of a longer stay in Treviso than normal; I couldn't leave them behind.
[ the snakes, that is. he doesn't trust anyone else with them, and they have precise feeding schedules. also, emil bites. so, the additional luggage was necessary to bring what was needed for their care, in addition to his portable laboratory.
his eyes rove over her, once. she looked well, mostly. perhaps a bit tired. aren't they all. he slides his gloved hands into the pockets of his trousers, to avoid curling and uncurling his fingers with the urge to cup her face within his hands and kiss her. ten seconds, and she's already trapped him in her web. ]
You look... [ gods. what does he even say. ] Good.
[ nailed it. ]
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[ she replies easily, cheekily, falling into the rhythm of their conversations. this was what she was always eager for, their little tit-for-tat. Viago, much like his precious reptiles, had such a searing bite in his words. hearing his dry tone never failed to cause that bubbly feeling in her stomach, like she's had too much champagne. ]
Mm, she mentioned. She wasn't altogether specific, though. [ just what was Caterina cooking up? normally, Teia could wheedle it out of her with enough time and effort. this time, though, she'd been rebuffed every time.
putting it from her mind for now, shes's just glad to have Viago close by for an extended stay. closing some of the distance between them, she looks at him looking, a smile curving her mouth at the clumsily delivered compliment. reaching out a small hand, she pauses just before her palm makes contact with his bare cheek, head tilting in a question: is this okay? ]
You look thin. [ thinner but no less handsome, in her opinion. she cannot resist the magnetized pull she feels when they're in the same space. even now, with the tired circles under his eyes and the gaunt exhaustion and road dust, she wants so very badly to drag him into the plush behind her and kiss him senseless. ] No one at House de Riva to make sure you're taking care?
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still, she had hesitated, which caused warmth to bloom in his chest. it only increased at the warmth of her palm against his cheek, something she almost had to stand on her toes to do. so he slides one of his hands out of the pockets of his pants, reaching up to take said hand in his own to tug it away from his face, only to squeeze her fingers gently. clearly thankful for the gesture.
but, in a dry tone: ] Taking care? After our catastrophe last year, the Crows of House de Riva would sooner not see me at all. [ viago wasn't exactly a pleasant person to see on a good day, and he had worked twice as hard to restore honor to his house's good name after rook's... incident. everyone was kept on a tight leash, and should the master of the house not need to see you, then that was considered a blessing. ] I'm left to my own devices, for the most part.
[ which, for most days, is a good thing. now, though, he gently tugs teia a little closer, seemingly giving in to her spell, the last remnants of tension in his form, so he could bring her fingers to his lips for a kiss. ]
Though I suspect you will give me no peace, while I stay in Treviso. Given I'm wasting away before your very eyes.
[ he almost sounds pleased by the thought. ]
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if she didn't know him, she never would have been able to pick it out. she's spent countless hours learning how to read and speak Viago, though, and was probably the best aside from Rook. Viago's not one to show his fragile feelings in a way that's obvious, instead opting for a subtlety that often felt invisible. sometimes, it's been frustrating. Teia has settled on being glad that she gets these glimpses, because focusing on the negative is something she leaves in Viago's court. ]
I think your Crows and Fledglings like you more than you would imagine, Vi. [ that isn't to say they're going to be overly friendly towards the head of their house. easy camaraderie and being able to switch between that and being a leader was not a skill Viago was particularly good at. ] Do I need to start corrupting an upcoming Fledgling to keep an eye on you while you're in Salle?
[ she asks around a grin, letting herself get reeled into his embrace. the grin softens as he kisses her fingers, her heart skipping its usual beat; how he always manages to make her feel like she's indulging in a girlish love, she doesn't know. perhaps he has poisoned her. or used one of his influencing balms. a cologne, maybe. whatever the case, she gives in willingly. ]
Peace was never an option, as you well know. Clearly, signore, you're underfed, underslept, and underkissed, if you need my professional diagnosis.
[ on that note, she leans into his hold some more and gently tugs her hand free so she could wrap her arms around his middle, chin against his chest as she keeps his gaze. ] I missed you.
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teia was so... delicate, but viago knew there was steel underneath those fine bones and high cheekbones. she could kill him easily, from this angle. a blade between his ribs, sliding neatly into his heart. how she kills all of her marks, though viago doubts any of her entanglements begin like this. so intimately.
he tries not to think about it, most of the time. it causes his stomach to churn. he would rather take his daily dose of adder's kiss than consider someone else touching her, however foolish and possessive it was.
he brushes a few loose curls out of her face before cupping a hand against her neck, a gloved thumb running along her cheek. missing her felt so incomplete. he ached when he was away from her. underfed, probably. underslept, that was typical. underkissed, well, there was only her. he would never allow anyone else to get this close. ]
Mmm. [ he doesn't agree or disagree with her assessment, which means she is correct. he's too busy resisting the urge to kiss her. ] I wanted to be here sooner. [ but the antaam needed to be pushed back in his own section of antiva, before arriving in treviso. he soon gives in to his impulses, just a bit, by pressing a kiss against her forehead, a soft sigh escaping. ] I missed you, too.
[ a pathetic understatement. ]
But you've now gotten hundreds of malms of travel on your shirt. [ for his fussing, he doesn't seem inclined to move, speaking into her hairline, his lips still against her forehead. ] I hadn't gotten the chance to shower before you waltzed in.
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a master seductress, she's no stranger to touch. in fact, she's experienced so much of it over her career, in so many configurations. Viago is far from the first to hold her in a similar way; he is the first to do so in such a genuine manner, though. a gift in itself, as he's the last person anyone would expect to let his prickly armor fall away.
this is a treat, just for her. so, she gladly tucks her head under his chin as he swathes her in more affection, the familiar tickle of his beard along her brow making her smile. ]
Always so much to do. [ that goes for both of them. she doesn't begrudge him for taking a while to come back–the Antaam were persistent, well-equipped. and while Salle feels so very far away, Antiva is not nearly as large as their neighbors; it would only be too easy for the Antaam to overwhelm them in the countryside and surround the cities. ]
Never mind that, I'll need to wash up and change before dinner in any case. [ it's her ritual. ] Besides, you know a little dust won't stop me. You've barely even got mud on your shoes.
[ not that she took particular pleasure in being a mess, but she wasn't nearly as neurotic about it as Viago is. ]
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so he squeezes her once before guiding her face up so he can give her a brief kiss, exhaling softly against her mouth as he gently untangles them. resisting the urge to keep going, to sink his fingers into her hair and tug her head back just enough to expose her throat. it will never stop if he does that, and as teia pointed out... there is much to do. ]
May I have the privilege of accompanying you to said dinner?
[ in a teasing tone, running his thumb against her cheek a final time before letting go. ]
After you spent your requisite two hours showering and selecting what to wear, of course.
[ for as neurotic as he is, showering and getting changed tends to be a quick affair. maybe a bit longer, given he isn't in his usual home in salle, but it isn't as if he owns much to go through. teia, on the other hand, has too many clothes to fit into a single wardrobe, and selecting the perfect outfit often takes much longer. not that he minds. the end result is always worth it. ]
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for now, she puts the familiar question–with its equally familiar memory, of Viago staring down at her with intensity and longing lacing all the hushed syllables of only if i'm a footnote–at the back of her mind. there would be time later, to sort such things out. ]
Such a gentleman. I gladly accept your offer.
[ she smiles, swaying just slightly after his light touch. and then she stops herself from rolling her eyes, settling for giving him a playful swat on the shoulder at his teasing barb. ]
As I've said: it takes time and effort to look this good. Besides, consider my magnanimity in giving you all that time to reorder your poison case and stretch those ridiculously long legs of yours.
[ long legs she cannot wait to see out of their current leather clad casing. that is for later. for now, she must think of what to wear. there are so many options to ring in a more acceptable greeting. ]
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... maybe teia has a point. ]
You look perfectly fine. [ beautiful, as always, but he holds up his hands slightly in surrender at her insistence; far be it for him to tell her how long to get ready. it is a battle he has never won, and he does not plan to start now. ] But I'll take the two hours to stretch my legs, if they're being given out freely.
[ it HAD been a long ride. ]
Shall we meet in the lobby in two hours, then?
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her need to primp isn't because she thinks he's wrong or that she lacks confidence. more that it does feel nice for her to take extra time to dress up and do her makeup and extravagant beauty rituals—all so she can watch him fluster and blush. or look at her with a rapturous gaze that will darken over dinner. there's a satisfaction in it. ]
Such a charmer. [ she says, giving him an affectionate pat on the chest before finally stepping away. ]
We shall. [ Teia smiles, feeling that eager flutter under her skin. she stops by the door, though, turning a bit to cast a glance over her shoulder. ] Do try to relax, Vi, there will be plenty of time to get wound up while you're here.
[ and perhaps she'll be doing some winding up of her own, later. ]
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gods, he loved her. it was a problem.
it took a matter of moments to fully unpack -- despite teia's note of having two trunks, he really did not bring a lot. his shower is a quick affair, scrubbing himself clean to get dressed in a comfortable, but put together, outfit. something in between completely casual and of utmost formality. in sum, about as buttoned up as he always looks.
he does note, with some amount of dismay as he pulls on his gloves, that the vest that goes with his coat is slightly bigger than it usually is. which means he has, indeed, lost a little weight. annoyed, he slides into his coat, because teia will never let him hear the end of it once she gets through the many layers.
... that thought cures any irritability at her being right, and once he ensures all requisite poisons, antivenoms, and tests are safely packed within his walking stick, he realizes he still has about an hour before he is to meet teia in the lobby. plenty of time to stretch his legs and take a walk around the diamond, questioning various crows for information.
caterina is also in, and viago takes ten minutes to greet her. or... he tries. the first talon takes one look at him and rolls her eyes, shooing him away with a hand and a muttered andarateia under her breath. he takes the sign for what it is, crisply tells her that he will be present first thing in the morning for whatever she needs, and he makes his exit quickly.
teia is a far better shield against caterina's moods than he is, after all.
he finds himself in the lobby a bit early, checking the silver watch in his pocket for the time once before he watches people come in and out of the diamond. ready to gamble, or stay the evening. thieves and scoundrels, wealthy spenders and tourists. he makes mental note of the suspicious ones, taken in entirely by his task of memorizing the people who seem out of place that he does not notice it is nearing the time he agreed to meet teia in the lobby in the first place. ]
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for one thing, filling the tub is always a process, especially for how hot she likes her water to be. and once that is done, it's a matter of selecting the right oils and combination of scents to match the mood. then, there's the actual cleaning–her hair alone takes awhile, with how thick it is and how carefully she has to manage the curls. she shaves as well, feeling particularly decadent and craving the aftermath of dinner being spent tucked under the silky sheets, the slide of them a satisfying delight against freshly bared skin.
once she has finally dragged herself out of the bath and patted herself dry with a towel, she obviously has to pick out a dress that will be the right amount of devastating and upscale. thankfully, she already had one in mind, having pondered it in the bath. perhaps a wrinkle in her usual slower dressing: she's eager and wants to soak up as much time with Viago as she can while they have these precious moments to do so. which is why, instead of taking her requisite two hours to bathe, dress, and do her hair and makeup, she takes at least twenty minutes less, including strapping a knife to her upper thigh.
before stepping out of her quarters, she takes one last look in the mirror–satisfied by her handiwork. swathed in a deep burgundy, so deep it almost shone purple under certain light, and pearl-accented heels to match her ear studs, she already knows no one will be able to look away when she enters a room.
too bad for them she's only interested in one man's attention.
with utmost grace, she makes her way to the lobby down the personal set of stairs near her quarters, which leads out into the main attached hall from a hidden door. it's quicker, than going down the public staircase. it also lets her take a few precious seconds to admire Viago on her approach, without him noticing immediately. he's buttoned up to his neck, as expected, but even with the slight gauntness of his face and frame, he cuts a handsome figure in his blue-green-black coat and trousers. her heart gives a familiar flutter and she takes that as her cue to make her entrance. ]
I take it you'll know every high-roller tonight before I do.
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Not every high-roller; only the ones worth --
[ but as he turns to meet her gaze and stop being rude, he's struck by... her. swathed in burgundy like royalty, glittering pearls tucked amongst the curls that cascade around her bare shoulders. the dress itself clings to her bodice, but the skirt touches the floor, and as viago lets his eyes trail downward (past her chest, because he's half convinced she's going to spill out of it), he can see the slightest peak of her thigh through a slit in the dress, where the glint of steel flashes that shows she brought a knife.
gods, he won't survive the evening. when was the last time he touched that much skin? months ago. since he last saw her, touched her, tasted her --
-- what was he saying? ]
-- Teia.
[ after a long moment. what was he saying? irrelevant. stupid. it was a stupid thought. whatever it was. ]
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of course, she isn't disappointed when he finally does turn to meet her gaze, the blue-green of his eyes going almost comically wide. for him, anyway. his eyebrows have gone up a couple fractions and his normally controlled expression going a bit slack in shock. behind the surprise is a flash of desire, of longing, so sudden and acute she has to take a steadying breath before it was stolen from her.
as befitting two Talons, anyone looking on would have no chance at discerning what was happening, aside from (somewhat accurately) knowing that they were assessing each other.
still, she can't help but acknowledge his momentary lapse with a dazzling smile, noting exactly where his eyes had lingered. for later, naturally. amused and flattered in turn, she steps forward and easily loops her arm in his, her expression softening into something more warm. ]
Hello, Vi. Shall we be off?
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(however lovely a walk through treviso is, it wouldn't do to get teia's dress dirty en route to the restaurant.)
he helps her into it, sliding a hand in hers to let her use it as she steps into the carriage. he soon follows suit, closing the door neatly behind him. there will never be a carriage in existence that allows for him to be completely comfortable, but he can tolerate it for the fifteen minutes or so it will take to their canal-side restaurant reservation he had made earlier that day.
they can take the gondola back, he thinks. it'll be prettier with the lights.
he settles his arm along the back of the seat, not quite around her shoulders, but leaving more than enough room for her to settle next to him. and he glances down at her, allowing himself another look at her outfit before he says: ]
Is this new?
[ he asks, casually, dipping his head slightly to press a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling briefly to enjoy her familiar scent. ]
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naturally, she gives none of this away to any observers, keeping graceful pace with Viago's longer strides. funny, how she's become so used to walking next to him that falling in step is as easy as breathing. a simple in and then out, with barely a thought.
charmed, she takes the offered hand up when she picks her way up the steps into the awaiting carriage. and as he follows her up, she arranges her skirts neatly so they don't get crumpled on their way. their new arrangement, of course, may also show the peek of her thigh better than before.
coincidence? never with her.
still, she wastes very little time in cozying up next to him a bit more, conscious to leave him breathing room while he was still working himself up to getting acquainted with this much touch again. the lean line of his body is warm so close to hers and she is tempted, not for the first time tonight, to melt into his embrace and nuzzle her face against the side of his neck. ]
I had it made for a contract but couldn't bear to see it destroyed if things went sideways. So I kept it for a special occasion, instead. [ not exactly new but not old, either. her story is also mostly a truth. she had seen the final product and could not think of anyone else's hands running so reverently on the fabric except his. letting a contract spoil it would've felt–dirty, somehow, with that image so etched into her mind.
the light press of his lips makes her pulse pick up, a syrupy sense of want settling in her stomach. ]
Do you like it?
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said kiss turns into a slight frown, at the news it was supposed to be for a contract. it's foolish to be... irritable over the idea; teia has a job to do, and viago has never once held it against her, how she gets the job done. but the thought of someone else's hands exploring her causes his stomach to churn, and the news that teia had not brought it along on said contract causes his frown to turn into a slight smile, huffing a soft laugh into her curls at her ridiculous question. ]
Do I like it. [ he repeats in a murmur, letting his arm drop just enough to let his gloved fingers ghost over her barred arm to touch the fabric along her side. he can't feel it, of course, but there was time for that. on the ride home, he thinks. he won't need the gloves past dinner. probably. ] Hmm...
[ confident that the driver has more important things the focus on (like the road), viago dips his head enough to press a kiss to her temple, then her ear - tiny lapses in control that end with a smile pressed against her cheek. ]
I do. [ he decides, ending his tiny affections with a soft kiss against her cheek, letting his arm drop a bit more fully around her shoulders, careful not to disturb her hair too much -- she had worked so hard on it, after all. ] You could be the Queen of Antiva, in such a gown.
[ she could, an annoying little voice says in the back of his mind. he ignores it. instead, viago adds: ]
I am a little concerned you are going to be freezing, though, by the end of the evening.
[ it does not cover much, ok. ]
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a lead up, just like his gloved caress along her bared shoulder, down her arm to her side, leather rubbing against the textured silk. goose flesh travels in the wake of his touch and her breath catches minutely when he leaves a featherlight kiss on her temple, her ear, and a gentle one to her cheek. she lets the shiver she'd been suppressing finally run through her, just in time to lean into the curl of his arm around her shoulders. still careful with her touch, she sets a small hand on his thigh, thumb idly tracing the side seam. ]
As far as I'm concerned, I already have more than the Queen.
[ which is...not totally true, but isn't untrue, either. Viago has said as much, about his own position—being Fifth Talon meant he wielded more power and influence than his father did, in this country. for her, much the same rings true; Antivan queens have never been toothless, but she carries more weight as Seventh Talon than royalty does.
(but maybe she has indulged in the ultimate fanciful daydream that Viago makes the bid for the throne he's considered in the past and decides to take her as his queen.) ]
I have you to warm me up, of course. [ she tilts her head back enough to look at him, giving him a warm but cheeky smile. ]
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[ undoubtedly she owns one, somewhere. it tugs at the back of his mind, this latent urge he has had more and more since the antaam had invaded. antiva required an actual defense, and the crown was all but useless. sometimes viago felt as if he were the only member of his family (if he could call it that) that gave half a damn about how to do something properly. and, perhaps more importantly, viago was the only one who had not chosen exile. possibly the only one who could still strike for the throne.
teia would be a positively insufferable queen. the thought makes him smile a little, to himself, as he turns his attention out the window. they were nearly at their destination, though he catches her look out of the corner of his eye, returning his gaze to her briefly. seemingly unimpressed with her plan, but he does huff a soft laugh to himself. ]
Of course.
[ for one, he would never let her stand outside and be cold, however much he complains about teia's impulsivity and lack of thinking things through. for another... well, his eyes flicker to take in her outfit once more as the carriage rolls to a stop. he has never been less interested in going to dinner, but steeling his resolve, he nudges open the door on his own accord to climb out of it relatively gracefully, turning to offer teia her hand so she could step down without wrinkling her gown. his attention, though, has already turned to the restaurant -- a higher class affair, settled directly on the canal. and while he knows teia is hardly defenseless, she is also not exactly wearing something well-suited to defending herself. so he keeps ahold of her hand, gently squeezing her fingers as he directs the carriage to remain until their dinner is complete. ]
On the water, or inside?
[ he asks, keeping her relatively close. they have their pick of table; the owner of the restaurant will clear any table the fifth and seventh talon ask for, if it's occupied. ]
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[ really, it's a common enough mantra amongst the crows, especially ingrained in their training as fledglings. one could never know what can happen on a contract. it was considered of utmost importance to be ready to change at a moment's notice or to modify the original plan.
Viago, though, took that paranoia to a near-ridiculous degree. his backup plans had backups. ever prepared for so many eventualities, he's sternly reminded her of the same advice in the years they've known each other. sometimes, it's enough to drive her mad.
but mostly, she thinks of it and it warms her through. his tone may sound aggrieved or nagging, but she knows it's one of the ways he shows he cares.
the other way is what he offers now, without hesitation—the embrace of his arm, the fine leather and silk warmed line of his body next to hers, and as the carriage comes to a stop, the offer of his hand down. she had figured out early on that he didn't like to be touched. so to allow himself and to seek it out, even encased in gloves and buttoned up to his neck; she knows how much he pushes through to do so. it's brave.
(it's love, supplies her mind, and she gently shoves that off to the side as they sweep up to the restaurant's entrance.) ]
On the water. Even with the Antaam here, Treviso's sparkling canals cannot be dimmed.
[ it's something she's always loved about this city. the less romantic part of the answer is she likes to have an immediate exit, if needed. dropping onto a gondola or straight into the water was a quick way out.
giving his hand a squeeze back, she only lets go to loop her arm once again through his. they certainly make quite the pair, she thinks, as she catches their slightly distorted reflection in the handworked glass panels flanking the maître d's podium. used to seeing one or both of them here, they're easily ushered to their preferred seat on the attached overlook. the soft breeze coming off the water is partially blocked by a vine-covered trellis and a neatly curated half wall with planters. in this cozy corner, tucked away from the noise and Viago sternly staring down the menu, she could almost pretend things were normal. ]
How have you been, in Salle? I heard much about your efforts but very little about you.
[ as was customary from Viago. it took great effort for him to drop his professional mien, even in personal correspondence. ]
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image is important. he just has to strike a very different image than teia does. and, perhaps, teia just loves getting dressed up more than he does.
he settles into his chair comfortably after pulling out the chair for teia out of habit, unbuttoning his jacket as he does so. there is a natural unease as their host pours them water, his eyes flickering to the liquid once as he sets his walking stick to lean against the table. he loathes eating out. it was a lack of control that always set him on edge, but this was the one thing that he refused to sacrifice. teia deserved better than always eating in, neurotically screening every single molecule for poison.
the menu is carefully curated. his eyes scan the menu briefly, relieved to see that the options present were what he prepared for, in terms of testing. after scanning the table once (no odd sheens on the tablecloth, no powders or spilled liquids, everything imacculate), viago decides he can relax. sort of.
a small vial of clear liquid appears out of nowhere (his sleeve, perhaps), and he answers teia's inquiry as he drops a single drop into each of their glasses. whatever it is, viago seems pleased with the reaction -- the water looks the same as it was when it was poured. ]
The Antaam have been driven off my doorstep. [ mildly, though he doesn't go into much more detail than that; you never know who might be listening, after all. ] Emil bit a new recruit, which provided a satisfying lesson in not touching my things for the fledglings present.
[ he takes a sip of his water, swallowing it before exhaling slowly. he can relax. this thrum of anxiety was stupid. he had already tested the water, and the meal was going to be fine. and, realizing he didn't finish his story, he adds, seemingly unbothered: ]
The recruit lived.
[ barely. he would be fine. ]
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What was their fascination, to even want to touch your scaly little friend?
[ while she isn't afraid of snakes, she certainly isn't bold enough to reach her hand into a tank with a species of unknown or possibly dangerous origin. even now, when she's fairly certain she could handle Emil, she leaves it to Viago. no use in tempting an accident. ]
Don't tell me you're disappointed they made it through. [ she teases, knowing full well that Viago cares more about his Fledglings than anyone would ever attribute to him. the joke also serves as a way to help lighten the tension she can feel in the air–something he typically carries with him, in situations when poison could be on every surface. as another counterpoint, she reaches across the table to put her hand over the back of his clenched fist, slowly dragging her thumb along the ridges of his knuckles. ]
And neither of those things were about you, Vi. I know you've not been sleeping or eating well, but surely there's something of note you've been up to.
[ as if to demonstrate: ]
Nonna gave me some pointers on embroidery, so I could restore this antique shawl I found at the market. The woman said it dated back to the Exalted age, around Madrigal's time.
[ which. she doubts. but even so, it's a little project that keeps her hands busy. she could easily bring it to a modiste to fix, she knows. there's something nice about having something unrelated to the blood and violence in her life to focus on. ]
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his eyes flicker to her hand resting over his, and he wills himself to uncurl his fingers, gently taking her hand in his. the waiter would be back soon to take orders and drop off a bottle of wine. he tries not to think about what to do next, in terms of testing, and instead focus on the woman sitting across from him. who, despite his many and varied flaws, seems to enjoy spending time with him, and thensome.
he finds he can't answer her question, what has he been doing. she wants something personal, something charming and wholesome, but he truly doesn't have anything to say aside from missing her with such fierce longing that he found himself miserably staring out the window at night rather than sleeping. he does, though, look amused at the thought of teia trying embroidery, and he turns her hand over in his, so he can see her palm. and, most importantly, the tips of her fingers. ]
Is that why you have pin pricks? [ she has no such thing, but his tone is teasing. ] For this holy shroud of the Exalted age.
[ similarly, viago doubts that that is true. but he is glad she is doing something for herself. something relatively benign. safe. she expects him to say something in return, though, and viago hesitates, his thumb running along her palm in thought as he tries to summon... literally anything except miserable solitude. ]
I drew different flora while in Salle. [ that's. something? though it stems back to work, really. a catalog of the local wildlife is useful for harvesting different herbs. but he does enjoy doing it, he supposes. ] Portions of the gardens have gone into bloom, despite the fledgling's best efforts to kill it.
[ it was a mistake to entrust them with taking care of his beloved garden. ]
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Viago, for better or worse, has always been driven. dedicated, in a way many Crows could stand to emulate. the trade-off is that sometimes, work takes over his entire life, blurring the edges of his personal time or erasing them entirely. it leaves him taut and aloof, the stress sitting all along his slim shoulders. in their recent encounters, she's been trying to get him to relax in a different way. more subtle than before; which was usually just them getting into an argument when he would be distracted while she was trying to kiss him into submission.
for now, she's at least slightly satisfied that he's keeping his focus on the question, lightly teasing her about her new hobby. ]
Tsk, I haven't bled on the shawl. I save that for the practice. [ while she handles knives and other sharp implements with finesse, the small detail work of needles has definitely led her to pricking her fingertips while getting used to the motions. perhaps it's best Viago hasn't been around for her early practice...he might've been very anxious about how many poisons only needed a pinprick to enter the bloodstream.
she decides not to say as much, focusing on the slow sweep of his thumb across her bare palm, letting him have time to form the thought that's clearly sitting on the tip of his tongue. ]
It's resilient, like its primary caretaker.
[ he did survive being bitten by an adder, after all. ]
You'll have to show me, I don't know what starts blooming in Salle this time of year. [ embarrassingly, she's not too familiar with the bloom schedules of a lot of plants–she's been a city girl her whole life. even with the training on poisons in her Fledgling days, she cannot claim to have even a fraction of the knowledge Viago does.
more importantly: she likes to look at his art. he's much better than he thinks. perhaps after all this upheaval, she could convince him to enter some of it into a salon. ]
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