Yes, it wasn't lost on me that you likely embroidered all that nonsense on your underthings yourself.
[ Which is just. Really funny. But also not a hobby he'd expect for someone like Astarion. Then again, what else is one to do in centuries long captivity. He tilts his head a little. ]
You've not had much of a chance to discover other things to enjoy for yourself, have you?
But he tends to the question, instead, his little bat-face sobering, ears... not drooping, but lowering slightly.]
No. I never had the chance, darling. Never had... the will to, either, I think. [Some days, he was simply given to accepting his circumstances. For long stretches of time, he was driven only by apathy.] But now I'm free. And I hope to explore that freedom to its fullest.
[ He feels a bit bad for bringing down the mood, and he reaches across the table to offer Astarion a little scritch under his chin with a finger. It just seems like the thing to do when there's a bat looking at him so sadly. ]
If there's anything I can do to help to realize that goal, you need only say the word.
[Ah— oh. Winter leans in and gives him a scritch beneath his furry little chin, and it’s so unexpected that he doesn’t know how to react, other than… instinctively.
Lifts his head, ears flicking. His eyes close.]
I— you—
[Help. This should be silly, and maybe a little embarrassing, but it’s an oddly fond gesture that makes something swoop in his chest. Surely not his heart, undead thing that it is, but it nearly feels like it could be.]
It’s hardly your burden to bear.
[That’s not a rejection, so much as it’s a pitiful little statement. Winter has his own priorities, doesn’t he?]
[ Of all the things, he did not expect Astarion to lean into the gesture, to take to it as if he were more bat than man. Not for the first time, Winter finds himself utterly charmed. There's a new sort of vulnerability in this interaction that wasn't there in previous ones, and he has no idea if it's because of Astarion's current form or because of the way they'd opened up to each other under the mistletoe.
Either way, he's grateful. Getting to see this side of his friend feels like something he ought not let go to waste. ]
It's hardly a burden at all, Astarion. I'm happy to help.
[Maybe it’s both. The mistletoe and the fact that being a bat means he feels… less like himself. Or rather, less like he has to keep to old habits, to wield flippancy and flamboyancy as a sort of shield against vulnerability.
Well. No point in overthinking it. Not right now. The offer is reassuring, and one he doesn’t mind humoring in this moment. He opens his eyes again, straightening.]
I hardly know where to start. We might just pick a floor, one day, and hope I stumble across my new favorite hobby in the process.
[Bless Winter for letting him keep some dignity, because he definitely will be hanging onto whatever is left of it when, quite all of a sudden, there's another comical poof!, and the little bat is engulfed with a plume of smoke that expands and then wisps up high into the air.
Leaving... Astarion. Elf Astarion. Utterly and completely naked. But seated in his chair, at least, elbows leaning in, hunched over the very small glass of blood with its tiny straw.]
[You know, he's not precisely modest, or prudish, but Astarion sure would prefer not to be randomly naked in the middle of a cafe (which thankfully isn't crowded, it's just the two of them and a shark waiter), his everything hanging out for all the world to see. He needs a little warning first!!!
A little strained, in Winter's direction, as he very much realizes what's just happened:]
[ Well. On the bright side, they were right to just wait it out. (Winter probably even has his spell slot back by now because what is this if not a short rest?) On the not so bright side, Astarion is now sitting naked in the middle of the cafe after that awfully absurd transformation back.
Winter is quick to offer the canvas bag of Astarion’s things to him across the table. ]
Go ahead. As much as I'd like to see you naked, I’ll keep an eye out.
[ He will drop a Darkness spell on their waiter or anyone else who happens to walk in. ]
[Well, that's sweet of him, really, willing to use his spell slots on Astarion again. For now, it won't be necessary; he grabs the canvas bag and digs through his clothes, hurriedly trying to sort them. Underwear first!!]
Aha... Would you now. No peeking; as I said, you have to earn that first.
[Anyway... He will... stand and get dressed. The quickest he can. He still has to squeeze into these tight-ass pants tho so. Give him a moment.]
[ He will be as much as a gentleman as he can be, but when he hears the tell-tale sounds of Astarion trying to shimmy into his breeches, he can't quite help glancing over.
It's less the sight of the half-dressed vampire that draws his attention and more the scars carved into his back. What the hells is that? And what kind of agony did he go through to get it? ]
... Not at all of you. I'm sorry, I just... it surprised me.
[ All those scars, painstakingly carved into flesh in a language he can't place. Was this part of what bound him to his master? Or something else entirely? ]
[It isn't as though his scars haven't been on display before in this hotel, but this is the first time someone other than Gale has looked upon them with more context.
After all, he's certain Winter is clever enough to assume just where these very purposefully-made scars might have come from. And it makes him feel oddly vulnerable, in a different way than simply retelling his past.]
I'm... teasing, love. [That's half true, anyway.] It's no grand secret. Cazador carved these into my back. As I said, he was a cruel bastard.
[ He has the urge to reach out and touch, to coast his fingers over the raised skin like that might bring some sort of solace. He doesn't, because surely that's stepping over a line he really hasn't earned the right to cross. ]
What were they for? I don't know the language, but I know the workings of magic when I see it. Ah... not that you have to answer, of course. If you'd rather move on, we can.
[Right now, at least, that was likely the wiser of the two options. He already feels a bit exposed, and unexpected touch is... complicated on a normal day.
He works to get his shirt on, over his head, then one sleeve at a time.]
It's Infernal. [So much for saving this story for later, but that's all right. He can hew away all the raw parts.] Part of a contract Cazador made with Mephistopheles himself. All for a ritual that would grant him even more power than he already possessed. These scars... they indicate that I was to be made a sacrifice for that selfsame ritual.
I didn't know that at the time, of course. I thought he merely wanted to inflict pain because he could.
[...But it was probably that, too, for how long he dragged it out.]
A vampire making contracts with an archfiend? That can't end well for anyone but... [ He looks back at Astarion, now that he's finishes pulling his clothes on. Not only was he a prisoner, a slave, something lesser, but a sacrifice too? ] Gods, Astarion. I hardly know what to say except I'm glad the bastard's dead.
True enough. But that doesn't mean I have to like them.
[Said with a vaguely forced smile, but then he lifts a hand and waves that notion away. Astarion sits and works on slipping his boots back on.]
Ah, no matter. I'm bringing the mood down. It's over and done with, and what's most important is that I needn't deal with that man any longer. He died spectacularly, just so you know.
[His scars? Well, while he has no doubt they aren't quite as extensive as Astarion's--very few have scars that are--he is curious. He wouldn't mind seeing them... someday. If simply to drive home yet one more thing they have in common.]
Anyone who says revenge isn't worth it hasn't had anyone wrong them quite as spectacularly as what's happened to us. Lucky fools they are.
[Boots on, he twists in his seat to properly face Winter and grabs for his... very tiny glass.]
[ Help. The sudden absurdity of normal-sized, non-bat Astarion picking up the tiny shot glass his meal had been delivered in startles a laugh out of Winter. ]
You could order another one, I suppose. Unless you've a better idea of where to get a meal.
no subject
Ah... Er. Drinking. Gambling. Stealing. [very charlatan vibes here] Reading.
[Uhhh.]
Needlework, sometimes.
no subject
[ Which is just. Really funny. But also not a hobby he'd expect for someone like Astarion. Then again, what else is one to do in centuries long captivity. He tilts his head a little. ]
You've not had much of a chance to discover other things to enjoy for yourself, have you?
no subject
But he tends to the question, instead, his little bat-face sobering, ears... not drooping, but lowering slightly.]
No. I never had the chance, darling. Never had... the will to, either, I think. [Some days, he was simply given to accepting his circumstances. For long stretches of time, he was driven only by apathy.] But now I'm free. And I hope to explore that freedom to its fullest.
no subject
[ He feels a bit bad for bringing down the mood, and he reaches across the table to offer Astarion a little scritch under his chin with a finger. It just seems like the thing to do when there's a bat looking at him so sadly. ]
If there's anything I can do to help to realize that goal, you need only say the word.
no subject
Lifts his head, ears flicking. His eyes close.]
I— you—
[Help. This should be silly, and maybe a little embarrassing, but it’s an oddly fond gesture that makes something swoop in his chest. Surely not his heart, undead thing that it is, but it nearly feels like it could be.]
It’s hardly your burden to bear.
[That’s not a rejection, so much as it’s a pitiful little statement. Winter has his own priorities, doesn’t he?]
no subject
Either way, he's grateful. Getting to see this side of his friend feels like something he ought not let go to waste. ]
It's hardly a burden at all, Astarion. I'm happy to help.
no subject
Well. No point in overthinking it. Not right now. The offer is reassuring, and one he doesn’t mind humoring in this moment. He opens his eyes again, straightening.]
I hardly know where to start. We might just pick a floor, one day, and hope I stumble across my new favorite hobby in the process.
no subject
[ He gives Astarion's chin one further scritch before pulling his hand away. Let him keep at least the illusion of dignity, right? ]
It seems to me that the only way to find something new is to go out looking.
1/2
[Bless Winter for letting him keep some dignity, because he definitely will be hanging onto whatever is left of it when, quite all of a sudden, there's another comical poof!, and the little bat is engulfed with a plume of smoke that expands and then wisps up high into the air.
Leaving... Astarion. Elf Astarion. Utterly and completely naked. But seated in his chair, at least, elbows leaning in, hunched over the very small glass of blood with its tiny straw.]
I... Er.
no subject
A little strained, in Winter's direction, as he very much realizes what's just happened:]
Darling, I think I need my clothes now.
no subject
Winter is quick to offer the canvas bag of Astarion’s things to him across the table. ]
Go ahead. As much as I'd like to see you naked, I’ll keep an eye out.
[ He will drop a Darkness spell on their waiter or anyone else who happens to walk in. ]
no subject
Aha... Would you now. No peeking; as I said, you have to earn that first.
[Anyway... He will... stand and get dressed. The quickest he can. He still has to squeeze into these tight-ass pants tho so. Give him a moment.]
no subject
[ He will be as much as a gentleman as he can be, but when he hears the tell-tale sounds of Astarion trying to shimmy into his breeches, he can't quite help glancing over.
It's less the sight of the half-dressed vampire that draws his attention and more the scars carved into his back. What the hells is that? And what kind of agony did he go through to get it? ]
Astarion... your back.
no subject
But he manages, and he's reaching over to unfold his shirt to slip that on, too, when Winter makes his remark.
Your back.
Ah. He freezes.]
...You said you wouldn't look.
no subject
[ All those scars, painstakingly carved into flesh in a language he can't place. Was this part of what bound him to his master? Or something else entirely? ]
no subject
After all, he's certain Winter is clever enough to assume just where these very purposefully-made scars might have come from. And it makes him feel oddly vulnerable, in a different way than simply retelling his past.]
I'm... teasing, love. [That's half true, anyway.] It's no grand secret. Cazador carved these into my back. As I said, he was a cruel bastard.
no subject
What were they for? I don't know the language, but I know the workings of magic when I see it. Ah... not that you have to answer, of course. If you'd rather move on, we can.
no subject
He works to get his shirt on, over his head, then one sleeve at a time.]
It's Infernal. [So much for saving this story for later, but that's all right. He can hew away all the raw parts.] Part of a contract Cazador made with Mephistopheles himself. All for a ritual that would grant him even more power than he already possessed. These scars... they indicate that I was to be made a sacrifice for that selfsame ritual.
I didn't know that at the time, of course. I thought he merely wanted to inflict pain because he could.
[...But it was probably that, too, for how long he dragged it out.]
no subject
A vampire making contracts with an archfiend? That can't end well for anyone but... [ He looks back at Astarion, now that he's finishes pulling his clothes on. Not only was he a prisoner, a slave, something lesser, but a sacrifice too? ] Gods, Astarion. I hardly know what to say except I'm glad the bastard's dead.
no subject
An "ascended" vampire skulking about Baldur's Gate in broad daylight? No, it would have been awful.
[He scoffs, but then offers a shrug.]
I may be free, but I'm marked forever with these scars of the past. I suppose you might call that poetic.
no subject
But as to the rest, he offers a soft smile. ]
We all bear such things. Yours just happen to be visible.
no subject
[Said with a vaguely forced smile, but then he lifts a hand and waves that notion away. Astarion sits and works on slipping his boots back on.]
Ah, no matter. I'm bringing the mood down. It's over and done with, and what's most important is that I needn't deal with that man any longer. He died spectacularly, just so you know.
no subject
[ His scars, he means. He doesn't have many, but he was stabbed in the back once upon a time. That sort of thing leaves a mark. ]
And I don't doubt that he did. Anyone who says revenge isn't worth it is a liar.
no subject
Anyone who says revenge isn't worth it hasn't had anyone wrong them quite as spectacularly as what's happened to us. Lucky fools they are.
[Boots on, he twists in his seat to properly face Winter and grabs for his... very tiny glass.]
...This had seemed like so much. [As a bat.]
no subject
You could order another one, I suppose. Unless you've a better idea of where to get a meal.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
is this where we warn for inevitable nsfw
yeah,
INEVITABLE NSFW THEN
nO ONE LOOK
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
love a reason to use this icon
it is nice to look at thank you
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)