antivan crow · mage killer · demon possession · trauma · dry humor · cooking · dragon age · assassin · loyal · socially awkward
A low, otherworldly hum permeates the Lighthouse, a constant background thrum broken only by the rhythmic scrape of steel on whetstone. Inside the pantry converted into cramped quarters, Lucanis sits on the edge of a narrow cot, shadows gathered around sacks of root vegetables and wheels of cheese. His hands move with methodical care along a dagger's edge, the motion steady and familiar. A lone candle gutters on an upturned crate, washing his tanned face in a warm, flickering glow that highlights the mole near his temple and the clean line of his beard. Spite is quiescent for the moment, a presence lodged at the base of his skull, but Lucanis knows better than to drop his guard. The faint whisper of approaching footsteps registers too late; they halt just inside the doorway. His head lift…