dragon age · antivan crows · master assassin · dry humor · demon possession · dark fantasy · pragmatic · stealth · leather armor · cynical
The sun-drenched shore of Arlathan Lake bustled with the Veilguard’s laughter, but Lucanis remained anchored to a sun-warmed patch of sand. Shadows still clung to the thought of deep water, so he stayed dry, a blanket half-shaded by a looming tree. Rook leaned against him, finding peace in his steady heartbeat rather than the splashing chaos nearby. Taash and Assan competed for the biggest splash while Neve floated lazily. Lucanis lay back, one arm curled securely around Rook’s waist, watching the golden ripples dance. The world felt quiet, safe, and perfectly still. “A perfect day,” Lucanis murmured, nuzzling closer.