icyspicy | ✨ INBOX: hotel caelum

[If they're lucky. Honestly, it feels like a waste of a day already; he can't catch a break.]

Gods, what can I do like this?

[He remembers, dimly, that this is a perk of being a true vampire, the ability to turn into a bat and flit around in the baleful nighttime hours. But at the moment it feels like anything but a "perk."]

I don't know! [He intonation takes on something vaguely... whinging.] If I can't take a dip in the spa, then I'm hungry.

You could still take a dip in the spa, to be fair. If you fancy being a wet bat.

[ Which maybe doesn't sound appealing. ]

Hungry for what?

[He does not fancy being a wet bat, thank you. And he does feel a little guilty about upending Winter's expectations to have a nice spa day, too, but... Also, he doesn't want to just sulk by himself somewhere until this stupid curse(?) wears off.

He squeaks. It's a bat-scoff.]

I wonder. Take a guess.

[ One dark brow slowly arches. ]

Blood? Is that an option on the breakfast menu I've been missing?

Ha, oh. Yes. Yes, you have been missing it.

[Or rather, Winter has not had a reason to ever ask for it. Despite himself, amusement bleeds back in.]

You need only know where to go, and simply ask. Do you recall the "Halloween" floor we visited? And the few drinks we shared while we were there?

[ On the one hand, it's something of a relief to know that Astarion hasn't had to go around chomping on people to survive. On the other, it's kind of funny. ]

Ha! Have you been asking for Bloody Marys with real blood in them all this time?

Well. Not while we were sitting there drinking, no. I wasn't feeling quite that bold.

[Though the recent vampire revelation gives more context regarding why he had reacted so poignantly, seeing Winter mimic his own appearance back at him.]

But after we parted? I learned they, indeed, serve actual blood. And then I went poking around a bit more to learn that several other establishments in this hotel do, too. Why, I practically need only ask, and the stuff is handed to me.

And that's right -- even for breakfast.

This hotel certainly provides... even as it's compelling us to kiss or fight one another.

[ Welp. He imagines they're going for a walk, so he steps away from the edge of the spa and back to the pile of Astarion's clothes by the fountain. ]

So, would you prefer we find you one such establishment and ask for a glass with a tiny straw?

[Ah, his clothes. They'll have to come back for those at some point, or carry them with. (Wait, does this mean when he changes back, he'll be naked? Gods. Worry about that when the time comes.)]

A tiny straw? [That sounds so. Cartoonishly embarrassing. Help.

Wryly-]

I could just stick these tiny little fangs into your neck and have a sip, instead.

[ Winter's eyebrows go up again. Not like he hasn't thought about letting Astarion feed on him if he needed it (or wanted it, really) but Astarion being a bat hadn't exactly factored into such things. ]

You could, if you wanted to. But wouldn't that be a bit unwieldy considering your size?

[It had been a throwaway remark at best, a little barb to fling back in the wake of asking for a "tiny straw", but Astarion actually hauls himself around to face Winter and looks up at him.]

What do you mean I could?

[He could what? Bite him? Is he serious?]

What can I say?

[ He shrugs a little. This seems like such a silly sentiment to be sharing now, in the most ridiculous of circumstances, but he simply can't ignore the perfect set-up, even when it's coming from the lips of a bat. ]

I enjoyed having your mouth on me.

[Astarion squints up at him with his little red bat eyes, and the remark is two-fold. Impressive, because that sounds like a line he would've used, once upon a time. And jarring, because he hardly knows what to make of it. He wonders there's something else inlaid behind that admission, and he doesn't mean just the flirtiness of it all.

The last person to offer their neck willingly to him was Gale, and though that was the equivalent of a mouthful of sludge, Astarion also took it for what it was -- trust. Ridiculous circumstances or not, it feels as though Winter is extending the same to him, and maybe that wouldn't be too much of an assumption, given their time under the mistletoe.]

You really are a dangerous man, aren't you. [He's still processing.] ...Don't offer something like that unless you mean it.

[ That look of suspicion is very funny on that little furry face, though Winter does catch the meaning easily enough. He's offering to bear his throat to a predator, which is an objectively stupid thing to do, but he'd meant what he said under the mistletoe.

He trusts Astarion. A man who has ample opportunity to bury a knife in his back or his fangs in his neck, and has done neither. ]

I do mean it.

[Winter says that, and just like with Gale, a flood of appreciation washes through Astarion. Gratitude, for handing him trust that he's not sure is entirely deserved.

He quashes it down a little, but presumably, he doesn't have to hide too much on his bat-features, anyway.]

Then... I may take you up on that sometime. If you like my mouth that much.

[Simple for him to fling a flirty retort back, though something about it feels less performative than usual. Still, Astarion heaves a tiny sigh.]

Not now, though. We'll wait for me to be more elf than bat.

[So tiny straw it is.]

I'd appreciate that. As would your dignity, I'm sure.

[ Still, Winter shifts Astarion over to one hand so he can pull a curtain of raven hair away from his shoulder, offering Astarion a perch. ]

Can you hang on for a moment while I gather your things? Then we'll be off.

[Whatever dignity he has left at this point! All the same, he glances up at the offered shoulder and tries his best to clamber up the man's arm to reach it.]

At some point- [grunts a little with the effort, but he's still as dextrous as he was to some degree, so he makes it to his shoulder in a few moments] -I suppose I might give spreading my wings an actual try, too.

[But he'll wait here while Winter grabs his clothes. And his magic boots. Don't leave those.]

A worthwhile endeavor to use them while you have them, right?

[ When he's sure Astarion is securely in place, he crouches to begin making sense of the tangled pile, folding things up and setting them aside. Boots and weapons, too.

But of course, being observant as he is, he can't quite help but notice— ]

Really? The embroidery?

[ Your UNDERWEAR Astarion!!! ]

[You know. Usually he'd not be that embarrassed about someone reading the embroidery so delicately sewn into his underwear, but there's something about this whole situation that smacks of "this might as well happen" that has Astarion going-]

Ugghh.

[And, indeed, feeling a mote of self-consciousness. Just a little thing. But it's there.]

I get bored. And also, don't read that, you nosy warlock. You've not earned it.

[Does he look bedded or beheaded to you, sir!]

[ He glances over to the bat on his shoulder, half-expecting to catch a bit of color on fuzzy cheeks, and grins. ]

No, no, it says right here: "you've managed to bed or behead me, or witness me get turned into a bat." I'm perfectly fine.

[ It says no such thing. But at least he's adding it to the pile now. ]

[Maybe he would be, but he's covered in white fur. (And also he's undead.) He's spared the scrutiny.]

You're very funny.

[But... thank you... for picking up all his clothes.]

So I've been told.

[ He doesn't want to just leave Astarion's things here, but a bit of looking around nets him a canvas bag from behind one of the screens, likely something to put one's clothes in in the first place. He just shoves all of Astarion's stuff inside and slings it over his bat-free shoulder. ]

Now, any preferences on where to head, my fuzzy friend?

[Thank you, again, for being his inventory space also.

Once they're prepared to go, Astarion seems to give it some thought, shuffling around on the warlock's shoulder idly.]

Somewhere nice. What are the chances of something nonsensical happening a second time? [Er, actually don't answer that.] I can think of a spot. Bring us back to the elevators, darling, and send us down to floor 70.

[ If this makes him encumbered he's feeding your boots to Gale—

I mean, heading to the elevator now! ]

It seems to me that you've done your fair share of exploring this place if you can think of something so easily. Not going to share with me what it might be?

[Joke’s on you, Gale’s cheese-eating grandpa said the wizard didn’t have to eat devour magic shoes anymore!!

To the elevator they go!]

How else am I supposed to run up the bill without exploring? Besides, this floor was one worth remembering. Let’s just say… it’s very sunny.

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