[ 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. ]
[ show her, that is. the fields and gardens are beautiful, in the early spring. even with the chaos of the antaam invading antiva, it had not stopped nature from taking its course. spring roses are beginning to bloom, along with buttercups beginning to dot the fields. lilies are next, though the different varieties appreciate different levels of sun. his garden of different varieties of nightshades were housed in a locked greenhouse, to which only he has the key... though that is beginning to bloom as well.
he's about to say as much when the waiter makes his appearance again, setting two wine glasses and a bottle of wine (corked, as is viago's preference, along with a wine opener). he removes his hand from teia's only to allow the waiter room to do so, in addition to taking their orders. a simple Bolognese is his order, declining anything special or any additions. truth be told, he doesn't pay attention to the proferred food specials, too distracted from watching the curve of teia's dress as she refamiliarizes herself with a menu she has seen a dozen times.
he's half convinced she's tipping forward on purpose.
when all is said and done, viago uncorks the wine himself. it doesn't entirely satisfy the paranoia; after all, he has killed many a mark with corked bottles of wine. so he pours it evenly, adding a different clear liquid to each glass. seeing no real change, he sets the bottle down to take a sip of his wine.
he rarely drinks. a crime, for an antivan. but addiction to the drink runs through his veins on both sides; viago prefers to think with a clear head, and not take the risk. still, a single glass will not kill him.
probably. ]
The countryside is relatively peaceful. [ he says after a moment, setting his glass of wine down to frown to himself. ] The Antaam are spread thin, but most of their forces seem to be focused on Treviso and Antiva City. There's coin to be had in Salle, but nothing compared to the royal palaces and the ports. [ at least, judging from the quasi-panicked letters from his father demanding his assistance. in response, viago had sent an envoy to the royal city; teia was far more important than the king, and therefore treviso got him in person. ] So once this is done, I will take you.
[ it sounds absolutely divine. locked away in a cottage in the middle of nowhere with nothing but teia and the flowers for company. he doubts he would even get out of bed. ]
[ the statement is so simple, so straightforward, that she thinks it shouldn't cause such a flutter in her belly. but Viago's easy, earnest I want to makes her feel giddy, an autonomous flush blooming under her skin; her cheeks are hot, along with the tips of her ears. a small part of her thinks it's silly, to be so excited about such a thing. but, she knows exactly how much of a private person Viago is and how ardently he protects that independence.
so, she is equally aware of how much trust drips off those words, for him to offer them with little to no hesitation. Teia beams, ready to tell him she would be happy to be shown around Salle, only to be interrupted by the reappearance of their waiter. the bottle of wine, still corked, and two glasses are set down before he asks after their order. while he lists off the specials, she leans forward in her seat to examine the menu, head tilted to block out the sound that's echoing off the water nearby.
immediately, she catches Viago's glance out of the corner of her eye, his normally sharp attention diverting from both the waiter and the menu–though anyone looking at him now wouldn't be able to tell. instead, his blue-grey-green eyes have dropped to the front of her dress. or more specifically, the fullness of her cleavage; the main reason she'd bought this in the first place. with a mischievous smile tucked into the corners of her mouth, she scans the menu one last time before making her decision–a more decadent pork osso buco–with supplies being oddly constrained from the occupation, she'll take every rare chance she has at something she may not see again for months.
she keeps her smile restrained as she notes that Viago's order is done somewhat distractedly. something for her to follow up on later. with both orders placed, their waiter whisks off, leaving Viago to uncork and pour the wine, to be able to do his testing to his satisfaction. it's a testament to his comfort and possibly his exhaustion that, once the test passes, he pours a glass for himself as well.
not knowing if mentioning it would sour the mood, she chooses not to comment, taking her glass gladly and swirling it idly before sipping. ]
I look forward to getting a proper tour of the country, then. [ there are things she could say, about the Antaam being spread thin but their numbers seeming to grow by the week. how they're getting better at understanding the tactics the Crows employ. or at least, in sniffing them out or proactively routing them.
that conversation is for later, though. if there was one thing she kept a strong boundary on, it's that she would not mix business and pleasure. Viago was here to assist, of course, but this dinner was not about his help. it was about them. about the time they spend together. ]
Are the estates very far apart?
[ having traveled to parts of Antiva, she's certainly seen enough of the landscape and knows that in some areas, there could be a few miles between neighbors. mind-boggling, really. she cannot fathom being so far off from everything. ]
[ she catches him looking, and viago shifts his eyes to the waiter, waiting for them to leave. she does it on purpose, he laments silently as he sips his wine, and as teia continues the conversation as if nothing had happened, he sighs to himself wearily.
you chose this, he reminds himself as he sets his glass down. and as her eyes light up and an easy smile graces her features, the warm candlelight casting a glow across her cheeks, viago cannot think of any other option but her.
-- ah, right, she asked a question. ]
A day's ride. [ so... not really, but the acreage of each of the estates was enough such that you needed to stop for the evening at least once. he spends the majority of his time in the smaller of the two estates, where he and his mother had stayed in one of the guest houses of whatever irrelevant lord had lived there before. now that he owns the entirety of the property, he keeps a zealous guard over the small home where his mother had given birth to him, lived in, and died in. there's a slight shadow that passes over his face before he shakes his head slightly; now isn't the time to dwell on such melancholy. ] But the fields bloom with daffodils and buttercups, at this time of year. [ utterly useless in alchemy, but beautiful. he thinks teia would like them. ] So it isn't an altogether painful journey; you would like it.
[ he considers that for a moment before he offers her somewhat of a crooked smile, his eyes lighting up just enough to match his teasing tone: ]
Though you would be bored; no such thing as taking restaurant meals to go or casinos open until the early hours of the morning in Salle. Only horses and olive trees, I'm afraid.
[ She echoes, with some small amount of wonder. Antiva is not the largest country–certainly it pales in comparison to the breadth of Orlais and its outlying territories. Or even against their neighbor, Ferelden, which extends far to the south. But, while she's traveled much, it still surprises her to know how much space is between the estates where Viago hails from.
The shadow that passes over his face causes a bead of worry to well up, though he soon shakes it away. If she had to guess: something to do with his family. Perhaps his mother? She tucks that away and doesn't comment, letting him have his peace. Instead, she focuses in on his description of the fields, how they're full of particular blooms this time of year; she's seen both of the flowers, but not in such a large amount. Just some at the florist or decorating cheery window boxes, bright yellow faces turned towards the strong Antivan sun.
How lovely it must be, to view a whole sea of them. ]
Tsk, you forget I enjoy riding. I'm certain Andoral would welcome the exercise. [ And after taking a sip of her wine, she returns his teasing tone with a slow smile, tilting fractionally so he could see the press of her breasts against the cups of the dress. ] And perhaps you might, as well, Vi.
[ andoral, the horse named after an archdemon. his lips twitch into a faint smile, and he can't even say that the image is an unpleasant one. teia is quite the talented horsewoman, and while viago certainly knows how to ride, he can't say he enjoys it the way that teia does.
it's also difficult to find a steed tall enough for him to ride comfortably, but that is another issue for another day.
he's about to respond in kind when teia's tone changes, her eyes bright as she tilts forward. on purpose, naturally. if viago didn't know better, he would think she was about to spill out of the dress altogether, baring herself to maker knows who may or may not be watching. the image isn't exactly a bad one, but one viago would prefer happen in the privacy of their room. for him, and him alone.
still, his breath catches slightly at the sight, though his tone remains as unfussed as ever. if anything, it shifts a hair lower, his eyes roving her form. devouring her with a glance. ]
I will leave the riding to you, Andarateia.
[ as he sips his wine. riding the horse. or him. both are a pleasant image. the latter, obviously, more so. he sets his glass down delicately, settling back into his chair. his legs are a bit too long to remain seated perfectly while still being comfortable, so he does allow himself to sprawl a bit. after all, it is only teia. and while he gets comfortable, folding his hands neatly in his lap, he adds: ]
Though anything is better than sitting in a carriage for a day.
[ a hot rush of satisfaction washes over her when his eyes dart down and his breath catches. if she were anyone else, she wouldn't have noticed the quiet intake. or how his pupils have widened, starting to eclipse the blue-grey-green of his eyes.
the lower pitch of his voice drags along her spine, near as effective as his bare hands. she feels pinned by his gaze and her composure breaks fractionally as she shifts in her seat, feeling a heated throb between her legs. it's all too easy to remember the last time she'd sat astride his hips, a small hand on his chest to hold him in place as she rocked her weight against him. part of her wishes to shove social etiquette aside and settle into his lap here and now, especially as he settles into his chair some more, his long legs sprawling to bracket hers under the table.
his comment about the carriage brings her back from the memory and observation and she laughs, curls spilling over her shoulder when her head tilts back. ]
Aww, poor Vi, too cooped up. I'll make sure you get plenty of opportunity to stretch your legs.
[ and for exercise, obviously.
thoroughly amused and still a bit flushed, she presses her luck just a bit; her bare ankle brushes against the hem of his trousers, keeping the fabric between their skin for now. it's a tease all the same. ]
[ he notes her shift with satisfaction, though his expression only shows a slight roll of his eyes. cooped up. he, by all accounts, is a hermit. so rarely do other people deign to tolerate his neuroses that he rarely deviates from his set course. the only exception, really, is the woman sitting across from him. rook was no longer in antiva, by viago's last account. and lucanis was dead.
the thought is an odd one, that teia is the only one left who tolerates him long enough to free him from his self-imposed prison of isolation and tinkering. bittersweet, maybe. but here she was, flushed and teasing, nudging at his leg just a bit, her expression coy and playful. the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, he thinks, and probably ever will.
why she puts up with him, viago has no idea. but she does, and always forgives him, even when he doesn't particularly feel he's deserved it. making a mistake with teia never felt terrifying, like it did with everything (and everyone) else. she was a safety net he never knew he needed.
the thought causes his lips to twitch into a faint smile, and he sighs a bit dramatically, turning his gaze to the canal. their food should be here soon, and his mind was already working ahead to what needed to be tested. but he does say: ]
You already have. [ he is, after all, at dinner. ] But the ride here was miserable. I think the only thing that got me through such torture was the promise of fine treasure at the end of it.
[ knowing he was going to see teia was worth an irritating carriage ride, a cure to even his most foul moods. he straightens up enough to reach out to the bottle of wine, turning it slightly to see the vintage. his eyes flicker to teia briefly, offering her a small smile, before returning to the label. ]
[ as she catches his pleased glance–followed shortly by a slightly exasperated roll of his eyes–she shoots him a small smile. and is reminded of something she's been asked before: why Viago? certainly, they're an odd pair; despite her position, Teia tends towards optimism, to looking for the good in people and settling into practicality when it's proven otherwise. to say Viago is the opposite would be stating the obvious too much. he's paranoid, with a constant armor of pessimism wrapped around him as close as his leathers.
the differences have caused them to argue, quite loudly and passionately, in many of their interactions. in the beginning of their working relationship, they could barely get a sentence in before they set each other's tempers off. even though their arguments have become fewer and fewer over the years, many still remember those early days and how their shouting had occasionally echoed down into the casino's lower floors.
so, when she had finally indulged in the magnetic pull between them, it was only natural those around her had questioned why. for a while, she hadn't been willing to give much of a straight answer. just that there was something there and each of their arguments got her closer and closer to the truth.
now, though, she knows how to answer without divulging too much about his character. because if there's one thing that always catches her eye and then keeps her interested, it's a sense of courage. Viago is brave in a way that very few have ever shown her over the years. it isn't just in how he handles their enemies or even the inner politics of the Crows or even the crown. no, she knows how difficult it has been for him to shed the armor and let someone inside. how every time he reaches for her hand, even if it's fully encased in leather, he's pushing aside his learned inclination to yank it away.
he is brave and he is kind, acerbic tongue and all. because he drops little gems into her palm, as he does now, eyes soft around the edges as he likens her to a treasure. ]
The Diamond really is something else. [ she teases, knowing exactly that he wasn't referring to the casino. her ankle nudges against his again, a silent acknowledgment of the compliment. ]
Bold, complex, yet goes down with surprising smoothness. You've picked well, as usual, signore.
[ not that she would have doubted. Viago may not be much of a drinker, but he understands the chemistry of such in a way she never will.
their waiter re-appears, then, to drop off their entrees, having given them just the perfect amount of time to sip their wine and chat. the timing is the reason they've come back here again and again; it's dependable. Teia makes no move to fuss with her food until she knows Viago is satisfied with his tests. doing so otherwise would only spark an argument. ]
[ the nudge to his ankle prevents a customary roll of the eyes at her purposeful obtuseness, but viago does seem pleasantly relaxed (for him) as the food is set down. for a moment, anyway. his eyes track every movement of the plate, mentally planning out what needs to be done. the waiter asks if they have need of anything else; viago ignores it, trusting that teia would play the role of polite socialite while viago fixates on the work.
he tries not to think about all of the meals teia eats without him. how many chances people have to kill her when he isn't here to test everything she eats. she shows great patience in allowing him to do this now, a silent compromise in tasteless liquids dropped on odd portions of the plate. a separate concoction for pork, salt, potatoes, tomatoes, eggplant, the butter and oil...
it takes roughly two minutes to finish his tests, quietly lamenting that teia ordered something complicated. he still has not touched his food. that will take another minute to test his own, practiced and easy. perhaps another minute or two to work up the nerve to actually eat it. but, for now: ]
Looks good.
[ the reward is worth it, he reminds himself steadily as he settles back into his chair, staring at his plate as if it were one of his precious vipers, curled up and poised to strike. the reward being teia not looking disappointed. it was worse than her being furious. he would rather she yell.
so, steadily, he picks up his fork to gently stir the pasta, ignoring the thrum of anxiety building in his jaw. he has to remind himself not to clench his teeth. he searches for something, anything, to talk about, and settles on something that he knows teia absolutely loves. ]
You really have no idea why Caterina called me here?
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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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[ show her, that is. the fields and gardens are beautiful, in the early spring. even with the chaos of the antaam invading antiva, it had not stopped nature from taking its course. spring roses are beginning to bloom, along with buttercups beginning to dot the fields. lilies are next, though the different varieties appreciate different levels of sun. his garden of different varieties of nightshades were housed in a locked greenhouse, to which only he has the key... though that is beginning to bloom as well.
he's about to say as much when the waiter makes his appearance again, setting two wine glasses and a bottle of wine (corked, as is viago's preference, along with a wine opener). he removes his hand from teia's only to allow the waiter room to do so, in addition to taking their orders. a simple Bolognese is his order, declining anything special or any additions. truth be told, he doesn't pay attention to the proferred food specials, too distracted from watching the curve of teia's dress as she refamiliarizes herself with a menu she has seen a dozen times.
he's half convinced she's tipping forward on purpose.
when all is said and done, viago uncorks the wine himself. it doesn't entirely satisfy the paranoia; after all, he has killed many a mark with corked bottles of wine. so he pours it evenly, adding a different clear liquid to each glass. seeing no real change, he sets the bottle down to take a sip of his wine.
he rarely drinks. a crime, for an antivan. but addiction to the drink runs through his veins on both sides; viago prefers to think with a clear head, and not take the risk. still, a single glass will not kill him.
probably. ]
The countryside is relatively peaceful. [ he says after a moment, setting his glass of wine down to frown to himself. ] The Antaam are spread thin, but most of their forces seem to be focused on Treviso and Antiva City. There's coin to be had in Salle, but nothing compared to the royal palaces and the ports. [ at least, judging from the quasi-panicked letters from his father demanding his assistance. in response, viago had sent an envoy to the royal city; teia was far more important than the king, and therefore treviso got him in person. ] So once this is done, I will take you.
[ it sounds absolutely divine. locked away in a cottage in the middle of nowhere with nothing but teia and the flowers for company. he doubts he would even get out of bed. ]
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so, she is equally aware of how much trust drips off those words, for him to offer them with little to no hesitation. Teia beams, ready to tell him she would be happy to be shown around Salle, only to be interrupted by the reappearance of their waiter. the bottle of wine, still corked, and two glasses are set down before he asks after their order. while he lists off the specials, she leans forward in her seat to examine the menu, head tilted to block out the sound that's echoing off the water nearby.
immediately, she catches Viago's glance out of the corner of her eye, his normally sharp attention diverting from both the waiter and the menu–though anyone looking at him now wouldn't be able to tell. instead, his blue-grey-green eyes have dropped to the front of her dress. or more specifically, the fullness of her cleavage; the main reason she'd bought this in the first place. with a mischievous smile tucked into the corners of her mouth, she scans the menu one last time before making her decision–a more decadent pork osso buco–with supplies being oddly constrained from the occupation, she'll take every rare chance she has at something she may not see again for months.
she keeps her smile restrained as she notes that Viago's order is done somewhat distractedly. something for her to follow up on later. with both orders placed, their waiter whisks off, leaving Viago to uncork and pour the wine, to be able to do his testing to his satisfaction. it's a testament to his comfort and possibly his exhaustion that, once the test passes, he pours a glass for himself as well.
not knowing if mentioning it would sour the mood, she chooses not to comment, taking her glass gladly and swirling it idly before sipping. ]
I look forward to getting a proper tour of the country, then. [ there are things she could say, about the Antaam being spread thin but their numbers seeming to grow by the week. how they're getting better at understanding the tactics the Crows employ. or at least, in sniffing them out or proactively routing them.
that conversation is for later, though. if there was one thing she kept a strong boundary on, it's that she would not mix business and pleasure. Viago was here to assist, of course, but this dinner was not about his help. it was about them. about the time they spend together. ]
Are the estates very far apart?
[ having traveled to parts of Antiva, she's certainly seen enough of the landscape and knows that in some areas, there could be a few miles between neighbors. mind-boggling, really. she cannot fathom being so far off from everything. ]
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you chose this, he reminds himself as he sets his glass down. and as her eyes light up and an easy smile graces her features, the warm candlelight casting a glow across her cheeks, viago cannot think of any other option but her.
-- ah, right, she asked a question. ]
A day's ride. [ so... not really, but the acreage of each of the estates was enough such that you needed to stop for the evening at least once. he spends the majority of his time in the smaller of the two estates, where he and his mother had stayed in one of the guest houses of whatever irrelevant lord had lived there before. now that he owns the entirety of the property, he keeps a zealous guard over the small home where his mother had given birth to him, lived in, and died in. there's a slight shadow that passes over his face before he shakes his head slightly; now isn't the time to dwell on such melancholy. ] But the fields bloom with daffodils and buttercups, at this time of year. [ utterly useless in alchemy, but beautiful. he thinks teia would like them. ] So it isn't an altogether painful journey; you would like it.
[ he considers that for a moment before he offers her somewhat of a crooked smile, his eyes lighting up just enough to match his teasing tone: ]
Though you would be bored; no such thing as taking restaurant meals to go or casinos open until the early hours of the morning in Salle. Only horses and olive trees, I'm afraid.
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[ She echoes, with some small amount of wonder. Antiva is not the largest country–certainly it pales in comparison to the breadth of Orlais and its outlying territories. Or even against their neighbor, Ferelden, which extends far to the south. But, while she's traveled much, it still surprises her to know how much space is between the estates where Viago hails from.
The shadow that passes over his face causes a bead of worry to well up, though he soon shakes it away. If she had to guess: something to do with his family. Perhaps his mother? She tucks that away and doesn't comment, letting him have his peace. Instead, she focuses in on his description of the fields, how they're full of particular blooms this time of year; she's seen both of the flowers, but not in such a large amount. Just some at the florist or decorating cheery window boxes, bright yellow faces turned towards the strong Antivan sun.
How lovely it must be, to view a whole sea of them. ]
Tsk, you forget I enjoy riding. I'm certain Andoral would welcome the exercise. [ And after taking a sip of her wine, she returns his teasing tone with a slow smile, tilting fractionally so he could see the press of her breasts against the cups of the dress. ] And perhaps you might, as well, Vi.
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it's also difficult to find a steed tall enough for him to ride comfortably, but that is another issue for another day.
he's about to respond in kind when teia's tone changes, her eyes bright as she tilts forward. on purpose, naturally. if viago didn't know better, he would think she was about to spill out of the dress altogether, baring herself to maker knows who may or may not be watching. the image isn't exactly a bad one, but one viago would prefer happen in the privacy of their room. for him, and him alone.
still, his breath catches slightly at the sight, though his tone remains as unfussed as ever. if anything, it shifts a hair lower, his eyes roving her form. devouring her with a glance. ]
I will leave the riding to you, Andarateia.
[ as he sips his wine. riding the horse. or him. both are a pleasant image. the latter, obviously, more so. he sets his glass down delicately, settling back into his chair. his legs are a bit too long to remain seated perfectly while still being comfortable, so he does allow himself to sprawl a bit. after all, it is only teia. and while he gets comfortable, folding his hands neatly in his lap, he adds: ]
Though anything is better than sitting in a carriage for a day.
[ a tragedy. ]
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the lower pitch of his voice drags along her spine, near as effective as his bare hands. she feels pinned by his gaze and her composure breaks fractionally as she shifts in her seat, feeling a heated throb between her legs. it's all too easy to remember the last time she'd sat astride his hips, a small hand on his chest to hold him in place as she rocked her weight against him. part of her wishes to shove social etiquette aside and settle into his lap here and now, especially as he settles into his chair some more, his long legs sprawling to bracket hers under the table.
his comment about the carriage brings her back from the memory and observation and she laughs, curls spilling over her shoulder when her head tilts back. ]
Aww, poor Vi, too cooped up. I'll make sure you get plenty of opportunity to stretch your legs.
[ and for exercise, obviously.
thoroughly amused and still a bit flushed, she presses her luck just a bit; her bare ankle brushes against the hem of his trousers, keeping the fabric between their skin for now. it's a tease all the same. ]
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the thought is an odd one, that teia is the only one left who tolerates him long enough to free him from his self-imposed prison of isolation and tinkering. bittersweet, maybe. but here she was, flushed and teasing, nudging at his leg just a bit, her expression coy and playful. the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, he thinks, and probably ever will.
why she puts up with him, viago has no idea. but she does, and always forgives him, even when he doesn't particularly feel he's deserved it. making a mistake with teia never felt terrifying, like it did with everything (and everyone) else. she was a safety net he never knew he needed.
the thought causes his lips to twitch into a faint smile, and he sighs a bit dramatically, turning his gaze to the canal. their food should be here soon, and his mind was already working ahead to what needed to be tested. but he does say: ]
You already have. [ he is, after all, at dinner. ] But the ride here was miserable. I think the only thing that got me through such torture was the promise of fine treasure at the end of it.
[ knowing he was going to see teia was worth an irritating carriage ride, a cure to even his most foul moods. he straightens up enough to reach out to the bottle of wine, turning it slightly to see the vintage. his eyes flicker to teia briefly, offering her a small smile, before returning to the label. ]
How is your wine?
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the differences have caused them to argue, quite loudly and passionately, in many of their interactions. in the beginning of their working relationship, they could barely get a sentence in before they set each other's tempers off. even though their arguments have become fewer and fewer over the years, many still remember those early days and how their shouting had occasionally echoed down into the casino's lower floors.
so, when she had finally indulged in the magnetic pull between them, it was only natural those around her had questioned why. for a while, she hadn't been willing to give much of a straight answer. just that there was something there and each of their arguments got her closer and closer to the truth.
now, though, she knows how to answer without divulging too much about his character. because if there's one thing that always catches her eye and then keeps her interested, it's a sense of courage. Viago is brave in a way that very few have ever shown her over the years. it isn't just in how he handles their enemies or even the inner politics of the Crows or even the crown. no, she knows how difficult it has been for him to shed the armor and let someone inside. how every time he reaches for her hand, even if it's fully encased in leather, he's pushing aside his learned inclination to yank it away.
he is brave and he is kind, acerbic tongue and all. because he drops little gems into her palm, as he does now, eyes soft around the edges as he likens her to a treasure. ]
The Diamond really is something else. [ she teases, knowing exactly that he wasn't referring to the casino. her ankle nudges against his again, a silent acknowledgment of the compliment. ]
Bold, complex, yet goes down with surprising smoothness. You've picked well, as usual, signore.
[ not that she would have doubted. Viago may not be much of a drinker, but he understands the chemistry of such in a way she never will.
their waiter re-appears, then, to drop off their entrees, having given them just the perfect amount of time to sip their wine and chat. the timing is the reason they've come back here again and again; it's dependable. Teia makes no move to fuss with her food until she knows Viago is satisfied with his tests. doing so otherwise would only spark an argument. ]
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he tries not to think about all of the meals teia eats without him. how many chances people have to kill her when he isn't here to test everything she eats. she shows great patience in allowing him to do this now, a silent compromise in tasteless liquids dropped on odd portions of the plate. a separate concoction for pork, salt, potatoes, tomatoes, eggplant, the butter and oil...
it takes roughly two minutes to finish his tests, quietly lamenting that teia ordered something complicated. he still has not touched his food. that will take another minute to test his own, practiced and easy. perhaps another minute or two to work up the nerve to actually eat it. but, for now: ]
Looks good.
[ the reward is worth it, he reminds himself steadily as he settles back into his chair, staring at his plate as if it were one of his precious vipers, curled up and poised to strike. the reward being teia not looking disappointed. it was worse than her being furious. he would rather she yell.
so, steadily, he picks up his fork to gently stir the pasta, ignoring the thrum of anxiety building in his jaw. he has to remind himself not to clench his teeth. he searches for something, anything, to talk about, and settles on something that he knows teia absolutely loves. ]
You really have no idea why Caterina called me here?
[ gossip. ]