icyspicy | ✨ INBOX: hotel caelum

[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.

[ The way he actually pauses mid-step. ]

And that's not a problem for you? I was given to believe that vampires and sunlight don't exactly mix.

[A delighted little cackle of a bat-squeak.]

It normally would be enough to disintegrate me straight into ash, but... The tadpole, remember? There are a few upsides to the ceremorphosis process being frozen in place, at least for a vampire. One of them being the ability to bathe in sunlight without issue.

May as well enjoy it while I can.

[ Not the bat-squeak chuckle help. He's so cute.

With that cleared up, he heads to the elevator, ushering them both inside and pushing the button for the correct floor. ]

Well now. I never expected having a mindflayer parasite in your head would come with benefits. Is there anything else you can do now that you couldn't before?

[The elevator doors shut and they begin their journey to a very "sunny" place, apparently.]

Stand in running water. Enter abodes without requiring an invitation -- that's a good one, too.

So you've none of the weaknesses of a typical vampire? Well, save for a stake to the heart, but that would kill anyone.

The worst weaknesses are gone, yes.

[The sunlight was a big one. He'll miss the warmth of it, the color daylight affords the world, if and when things ever revert back to "normal."]

However, a few other traits remain. The lack of a reflection, or the fact that most food and drink tastes like a poor imitation of itself. That sort of thing.

[The lingering scent of death, a colder touch, never aging, not remembering most of his past, weak to radiant damage, always, always hungry--]

[ Well, perhaps it's good that the tadpole isn't so all-consuming as to remove everything, as awful as these afflictions sound. He frowns a bit, turning them over in his head. ]

The lack of— oh, that explains why you looked at me like that when I changed into you. I'm sorry. I can only imagine that was quite jarring.

It was jarring, but you hardly need to apologize for it. I had missed seeing myself, as briefly as it lasted.

[And later, seeing himself in a mirror that actually reflected him back, the experience was a bit more... fraught. But that's hardly anyone's fault; viewing his reflection after centuries of hardship was undoubtedly going to be a surreal feeling.

He offers as a joke-]

Vampires are supposed to be ageless, but I think the years have taken their toll. Not that I'm not still beautiful, mind.

[ He's not sure if Astarion would have considered it a curse or a gift to lay eyes on himself for the first time in who knows how many years. (Given that he's both an elf and a vampire, Winter can only begin to guess.) ]

I think you're perfectly beautiful. But then, this version of you is all I've known. Perhaps I'm biased.

[It can be a little bit of both. But he'd rather have seen his own visage than not, for what it's worth.]

Or perhaps you're just given to flattery, Winter.

[This isn't a bad thing, really.]

Still, call me beautiful as often as you like. I do love to hear it, especially from an equally beautiful man.

[Heh. Anyway! The elevator eventually comes to a stop, and when the doors open, they are greeted by the scenic view of a beachside cafe. Very tropical, with the distant ocean glittering and refracting sunlight.]

We turn heads wherever we go, don't we?

[ Said as he casts a grin over at the bat perched on his shoulder, currently nestled under a canopy of raven locks. It's not lost on him that now they might turn heads just because Astarion is a talking bat.

The elevator dings, doors sliding open, and for a moment, Winter is truly awestruck. ]

Oh... Astarion, this is gorgeous.

[He flashes tiny fangs back at him. It might as well be a grin.

But when the scene spreads out before them, Astarion turns back to look at the quaint little place, with a sprawling view just beyond the windows. The sunlight is vivid but not too bright; warm but not too overbearing.

The sort of thing he'll come to miss when the tadpole's no longer an issue. Might as well indulge while he can.]

You like it? I thought so, too. It left an impression.

I do like, perhaps even more than the spa.

[ It seems almost a shame to get to enjoy it while Astarion is stuck like this, but what else are they to do? Sit around and wait? ]

Shall we find someplace to sit?

[Better than the spa? Well. That’s good then, he thinks. At least Winter won’t feel like he was missing out for Astarion’s sake, and the thought bolsters the vampire enough to stand up a bit straighter on the warlock’s shoulders.]

Yes, let’s. Now’s a good time as any to give my wings a try…

[He leaps off and flaps his wings, hoping that either the instinct of a bat or a vampire will kick in quickly enough so he doesn’t pummel to the ground — even if he’s not sure the latter applies to a vampire spawn.

But lo and behold! He manages to fly!!]

Ah… aha! Not so difficult!

[…And attempts to land on the back of a chair, placed next to an empty table where they can seat themselves. He manages to grip his little feet onto the material, but lists forward and tumbles down into the seat proper.]

Woaghh-!

[ Winter pulls his hair back out of Astarion’s way so he can take off without getting tangled, and take off he does. The warlock barks a surprised laugh when little Batstarion manages to fly, impressed.

But that’s over rather quickly. ]

Ah, Astarion—!

[ He jogs over to peer over the back of the chair, down at the bat on the cushion. ]

Are you okay?

[He’s upside down, with his little feet in the air and his wings splayed out beside him.]

This is— [SQUEAKS] —overrated!

[…being a bat.]

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