Work Text:
In the little village by the sea,
it rains eternally.
The waves like to take vacations:
they leave their vast home to visit the sky,
a place so grand, it makes them feel small.
Something inside them changes,
so they’re sweet when they touch skin,
when they fill strays’ bowls,
when they drip from curls,
when they knock on roofs.
How do I know? Well, on your lips, I
tasted the visitors in the sky,
in the little village by the sea,
where it rains eternally.
Of all the strange beauties in the Crossroads, this tiny pool of water on yet another floating island must have been Rook’s favourite. It was the team’s preferred bathing spot, but it wasn’t just that: it reminded her of childhood, when she’d sit by the river in Treviso for hours on end, scribbling poems on old notebooks stolen from Viago, after tearing off the already used pages and throwing them in the water. Naturally, the pool became the next best thing as soon as they found it.
For a while, though, she hadn’t been very inspired, what with the world crashing down around her, and her somehow being the person responsible with saving it. So she wouldn’t write, but she did enjoy skimming through poetry books lent to her by Emmrich. The two of them and Bellara had weekly evenings when they’d gather in Emmrich’s chambers and discuss what each of them had been reading, oftentimes losing track of time entirely and being all too tired the next day to be productive at all. It kept her appetite for literature sated, at least for a while.
Lately, however, she’d been experimenting with putting her own pen to work again. She’d tried before, ever since she’d came to the pool on her own the first time, but some very unpolished and dull poems would come of it. Something hadn’t been clicking. Until the first few times she felt her heart skip: it took maybe one or two times catching Neve’s “longing glances”, as Bellara had described them in a very enthusiastic speech about their relationship, for her creativity to reignite. Now, she was writing like a madwoman. Poem after poem, every single moment she’d have some time to herself.
Neve noticed some of her papers had been going missing recently. At first, she blamed it on the wisps, not giving it a second thought. But lately, even though the culprit in her mind hadn’t changed, it was getting dreary, having to visit the merchant every other day to stock up again. And where were they taking the papers when they’d steal them, anyway? Were they just dropping them in the infinity of the Fade? Hiding them on the highest peaks of the towers in the Lighthouse?
She hadn’t slept in her own chambers for a while, exchanging its lack of comfort for Rook’s settee, which was just a small improvement either way. Not by choice, though, but she’d always end up much too beat after their evenings together to make the effort of walking back to her room. And it’d become an almost nightly occurrence, ever since that damn game of Wicked Grace the other week. Keeping their eyes, mouths, and hands off each other was as impossible as night not turning into day.
“This might become problematic,” Neve whispered into Rook’s ear one early morning, while laying down behind her on the sofa, drawing circles mindlessly on the Crow’s bare ribs. “One more sleepless night like this, and I’ll fall face-first while fighting our enemies.”
Rook laughed softly and turned her face towards the detective. “I’ll pick you up if so, don’t worry. Besides…” she said, shifting herself to face Neve completely and tangled her legs with the other woman’s, “you’re not in the habit of being well-rested anyway. Might as well give you a good reason.” She grinned foolishly, this damn smile, and touched her neck, tenderly pulling her into a slow, lazy kiss.
Neve smiled against the other’s lips, muttering “Trouble,” then let herself get lost in her kiss, their hands once again, the umpteenth time that night, beginning to trail everywhere, but slowly, languidly, in tired but passionate motions. Her resolve had long since shattered, and she’d become quite adept at shutting off her mind whenever she’d found herself back into Rook’s bed. The doubts were ever alive still, the fear, the worry, but melting into the elven woman’s touch seemed to overwhelm anything negative.
“Morning, Rook!” The sound of Bellara’s voice yelling all too loud for that hour at the door broke their trance, Rook humming annoyedly as Neve gently pushed her off. “Is Neve there?” Neve pulled the blanket over her face in equal amounts of embarrassment and exasperation, and Rook couldn’t stifle her laughter.
“Morning! And yes, she is!” Rook replied, still laughing, and even more so when she felt a knee kicking her stomach from beyond the blanket.
“Oh! Can I come in? I have urgent news!”
Neve almost jumped when sitting up, blanket slipping to her waist. “Bel, wait, I—"
But she didn’t wait, door springing open with a horrifying creak. Otherworldly fast, Neve managed to cover both of them up again with the blanket, in a way which made them look like a two-headed caterpillar, and nudged Rook to stop laughing.
“Where are you?” Bellara asked, not seeing them because of the backrest. “Oh, there! Great!” she towered over the backrest. “I found these by the pool where we wash,” she said, waving a stack of papers. “Aren’t they yours? They look like those papers you use to write down your notes.”
Mierda! Rook thought, and could feel a mortifying heat engulfing her whole face, up to the pointy ends of her ears. No amount of fast thinking could help her recover and hide the papers in time: she was completely immobilized by the blanket, and way too naked to just get up and run with them if she could however snatch them in time.
Thankfully, Neve didn’t notice how Rook had basically frozen in place. Bellara handed her the stack, and she sat up, using one hand to keep the blanket over her chest, and the other to sift through the sheets. Rook remained still, letting herself be covered up to her face by the motion. “Strange,” Neve mused after skimming through the papers. “These look like… poems?”
Bellara perked up with adrenaline. “Poems? Do you think the wisps can write? Should I get Emmrich?” she asked, and halfway through, she turned to walk hurriedly towards the door.
“No, wait, Bel!” Neve stopped her anxiously – the last thing they needed was for Emmrich to barge in too. “I’ll go to him.”
“Oh! Right. Sorry! I’ll see you at breakfast then,” she said, a bit embarrassedly, and left.
“You can come out now, Rook,” Neve chuckled as she leaned over the Crow to set the papers on the floor next to them. Of course, she thought Rook had hidden under the blanket because she was afraid Bellara would see her naked. The real reason was yet to be uncovered. She shimmied over to the edge of the sofa to put on her pants and prosthetic.
Rook sat up too, and looked down at the papers, gulping in horror. Could she distract Neve enough to hide those from her in time? No. It was clearly too late. All she could do is keep quiet and play dumb, and hope to the gods, to all her traitorous elven gods, that Neve didn’t know her handwriting. Otherwise, she thought she’d just run through the farthest Eluvian which would hopefully take her to somewhere distant like Par Vollen. Nobody had ever read her work, not that she knew of. And she sure as hell wouldn’t let Neve be the first, especially since the vast majority of the poems were very clearly about her. How could I be so stupid, she thought. She’d hidden the papers under a damn rock. But, obviously, the ever inquisitive Bellara eventually found them.
“Think this is just a strange trick of the Fade?” Neve asked, startling Rook a bit. She looked up, and saw Neve was already fully dressed, so she decided to do it too, so as to not draw too much attention.
Her clothes were on the floor – of course they were, she thought, wistfully remembering the night for a second. They were clean though, the two of them had just bathed before – ah, damn, the anxiety was back. Bathing. At the pool. Where she’d hidden the murder weapon. After she clumsily pulled up her pants as fast as possible, as she reached to grab her shirt, she noticed something that made her widen her eyes – an ink stain on the collar. Of course! After taking a bath, Rook had stayed behind to write. The shirt was blue, but a blue light enough that it was visible.
“You alright, Trouble?” Neve asked confusedly, watching the other woman buttoning up her shirt extremely slowly, eyes fixated on the fishtank.
“Hm?” Rook replied, as if taken by surprise, “Oh, yeah, I’m fine, just, uh… thinking… about… some of, uh… Antoine’s Blight samples.” Really? Why would you be thinking about Blight samples first thing in the morning?
Neve raised an eyebrow, a doubting smile forming on her face. “Right. Blight samples. Anyway, I’m going to check with Emmrich about those papers.” She still didn’t leave though, hand on hip, not really understanding Rook’s weird behaviour.
“Yeah, gr-great idea! You do that, Neve! See you at breakfast!” Rook spoke, a bit too enthusiastically given the neutral context. She gave up on trying to close the last two buttons of her shirt since her fingers kept slipping in agitation, and bolted towards the door, anything to create a big enough distance from Neve, just to not be around if the truth eventually surfaced.
“Hey, hold on.” The detective grabbed Rook’s wrist, and the latter gulped again.
She figured it out, she must’ve… why did I fall for a damn detective of all people?
“Kiss me first?” It was not so much an invitation for normal affection, but rather a need for reassurance that Neve strangely felt after seeing how Rook was behaving.
“Sure thing, Neve!” Rook blurted just as awkwardly again, and leaned for a kiss, and however wonderful her body instantly felt, her mind didn’t let her linger for too long and she pulled away shortly after.
Neve stayed in place for a second disappointedly, then subtly wiped her mouth. “I see that the Blight samples got you all worked up suddenly,” she said, not really adept at hiding her passive-aggressiveness. Ugh, needy. Just drop the matter. Let her leave. She sighed. “Go on, then. See you later,” she gestured towards the door, then went to grab the papers.
Rook tightened her hands into fists. She could tell Neve didn’t understand her behaviour, and had probably taken it personally. Better than the alternative, though, right? She went to the kitchen, almost sprinting past Emmrich’s room, as if him seeing her would somehow help him figure out she was the author of the mysterious poems. She almost tripped over Assan as she walked to her chair, earning her a mildly annoyed growl from the griffon, who was eagerly waiting for Taash to throw him a piece or two of whatever they were cooking. She knelt down next to him and gave him a good scratching as an apology.
“Smells great!” Harding complimented Taash, and earning a smile and a light squeeze of the buttocks, for which the latter had to bend down a bit.
“So do you,” Taash teased, much to Rook’s dismay. She cleared her throat to make her presence known to the couple, since they were facing the fire. “Oh, hey, Rook,” Taash said, unbothered.
“Good morning, Rook! Where’s Neve?” Harding asked.
“Morning. Neve? Oh, you know… just… doing her stuff.” Rook tried to feign disinterest, waving her hand around way too dramatically.
“It’s fine, Rook. We know you banged all night,” Taash said simply as they returned to cooking.
Harding nudged them in a gesture of chastisement, to which the Rivaini just shrugged. And, although a bit shy about the awareness that the walls of the Lighthouse were that thin, that wasn’t Rook’s main concern at that moment.
Bellara, Lucanis and Davrin shortly joined, Assan jumping around the latter as soon as he walked through the door. “Food’s not ready, boy, just be patient!” he tried, but Assan scoffed and continued.
“Some authority,” Lucanis teased, and Davrin jokingly shoved him as they sat at the table.
Rook looked at Bellara musingly. Had she ever mentioned to her fellow elf that she wrote poetry? Maybe when they were discussing Lutare’s own writings? It might have been in passing – she couldn’t remember. Truthfully, she felt foolish about how big a deal she was making out of it. Partly because her poetry had always been an extremely intimate deal, a way to channel heavy feelings in a therapeutical way, but, also, partly because she was afraid she’d scare Neve off. She’d learned, during the last few weeks, to give Neve space, not because she’d asked, but because she felt as if any sudden movements would wake her up from what seemed like a blissful dream.
“Ah! There you are!” Bellara said excitedly as Neve and Emmrich entered the kitchen, eagerly awaiting to hear the conclusion of the stolen papers mystery.
“Good morning, everyone. Excuse us for keeping you waiting,” Emmrich apologized in his characteristically polite way, which never betrayed anything else he was feeling, so Rook couldn’t find out anything from his demeanour. Manfred followed shortly with a tray, from which he offered everyone a cup of tea. Lucanis refused though, pointing to his own coffee.
“No worries, Em,” Taash replied, “food’s not ready yet.”
Neve took her seat next to Rook and lit her pipe, sipping from the warm beverage Manfred had given her. She subtly gave a quick squeeze to Rook’s thigh under the table, but wouldn’t look at her, rather she had this strange smile plastered across her face.
Okay. Confusing. “How goes the search?” asked Rook.
“Hmm?” Neve responded, prolonging the sound playfully.
Oh, no. “The… papers? Did you figure it out?”
“There’s Taash with our food. We’ll talk later,” Neve said, in a weirdly amused tone.
Mierda. Mierda, mierda, mierda.
After breakfast was done, Neve beckoned Rook over to the pool in the Crossroads. Might be a good sign, she thought. Maybe Neve wanted to further inspect the place? Maybe she hadn’t been found out?
As they reached the body of water, Neve stopped to look at Rook. She tried to be serious, but the corners of her mouth were starting to curl upwards. “What’s wrong, Trouble?”
Rook shifted awkwardly from one leg to the other. “N-nothing. I, uh… what did you want to do here?”
Oh, how lovely it was to watch her squirm. Neve was set on taking it to the next level. She slowly, agonizingly so, walked to Rook’s back, and leaned in to her ear. “In the little village by the sea…” she started, sultrily, almost whispering, and Rook swallowed loudly, clenching her fists, “it rains eternally.” She gave a little nibble to Rook’s earlobe, then put her arms around her waist. “How do I know? Well, on your lips, I…” she continued, and, running her hands up Rook’s torso, one stopped on her chest, against her raging heartbeat, making Neve smile, and the other touched her jaw, turning the other’s face towards her. Rook arched her back into Neve, any ounce of embarrassment quite fuzzy now, eyes half-lidded watching Neve’s mouth as she recited her poem. “…tasted the visitors in the sky…” the detective went on, and captured Rook’s agape mouth into a kiss, her tongue slowly making her way towards Rook’s, and danced with it as Neve’s hand left her chest, trailing down, “…in the little village by the sea…” she spoke breathily in between kisses, and stopped her hand, gently squeezing under Rook’s navel, “where it rains eternally.” They kept kissing as Neve massaged her there, the tips of her fingers teasing her waistband, which made Rook moan briefly. Oh, Trouble. The Antivan felt the Tevene smile against her lips in response.
Eventually, Neve pulled away a bit, and the heaviness of affection hit her as she saw Rook’s reddened cheeks. “You poor thing,” she said, and gave her nose a little chaste kiss. “Caught you red-handed,” she laughed, grabbing her into a hug by her waist, and rested her head on her shoulder.
Rook giggled awkwardly, but relaxed a bit in Neve’s arms. “Gotta find a better hiding place next time, I guess.”
“You could’ve just asked for some sheets, you know. I don’t bite.”
“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” Rook managed to joke, and they giggled as Neve let go of the embrace.
As they faced each other, forbidden words tried to break the chains so that they may escape their mouths. And each time, the chains were getting thinner and thinner. Not yet, though. “Last one to get into the water is a sappy writer?” Neve challenged her, and they both started undressing as fast as possible, laughing like children.
Rook admired how Neve’s eyes formed crow’s feet and how she scrunched her nose when she laughed, and she couldn’t help but curse the world that made her close up that way. Curse Minrathous, Aelia, everyone responsible. Curse who made it so that she was afraid to both speak and hear those forbidden words. Well, I guess I’ll resort to poetry… in the little village by the sea, where it rains eternally.