thirsted | open post.

( — continued from )

[ To some degree, it feels like they all take turns being the party's center of pity, with catastrophe after catastrophe nearly forcing their hands. It'd be funny if they weren't so seemingly powerless in the flow of things; the blessing is that they're all in it together, as opposed to a single person being forced to air all of their dirty laundry at once. (Still, had he acted out when it'd come to be his turn? Definitely, yes.)

But, more importantly: ]

In an hour, then.

[ It's a blessing that she chooses the place, as it occurs to him fairly late in their back and forth that he hadn't really thought through what they'd do should she agree. The suggestion gives him something to do — namely, pack a small basket, which triggers a couple of warring instincts within him almost immediately. The first problem is what to bring — what won't seem like he's trying too hard while demonstrating that he has put some thought into this. (He settles on a bottle of wine, Blingdenstone Blush, and a few apples; it's too early for lunch — and arguably too early to be drinking, really — and it seems like enough to mark effort, given that he can't have any of it, anyway.) The second is just how much of a show to make of it; to point it out would signal desperation, but also invite acknowledgment; to ignore it would help him seem more nonchalant, but allow the praise he so craves to pass by.

Ultimately, he chooses not to say anything about it, instead simply getting to his feet and raising a hand in greeting when he notices her arriving. (He's changed into a fresh shirt, distinguished by a tiny bit of filigree around the collar.) ]

Hello again, petal. Fresh as a daisy now, are we?

Edited 2023-10-02 04:15 (UTC)

[ Softly, ]

It's your turn, Astarion.

[ The campfire crackles. Her feet are light, shadow hovering at the edge of his tent. A larger, bolder shadow pushes just-a-step further: the bottom-half of a long, grey maw, and a rounded black nose, dares to part the flaps that seal the entrance shut. Manners, Bosky, comes the low reprimand, and the dire wolf retreats with a displeased whine. Shadowheart's luck, that Bosky's taken such a liking to sniffing and rifling and just being near Astarion's things.

Tav apologizes, of course. She knows that he likes things — his things, particularly — just as they are, without any wolf-shed. But Bosky is still an animal companion, not a fey-spirit familiar, and he has a willy little mind of his own, however stubborn it is.

Slender fingers hook into the scruff of the wolf's neck to stop any more advances. Tav hates waking any of them from rest, sleep or trance, but they have a long day tomorrow, traveling towards Rivington. Survival's the name of the game, and after one Githyanki ambush too many, everyone takes watch.

And so.

Again, quietly, ]

Astarion?

[ Maybe he's more tired than usual. Or he's gone hunting. She could go for a few more hours yet, if necessary. Maybe she should try Karlach next? ]

( — continued from )

Not a particularly high bar considering you've just told me I'm your first, is it?

And ... yes.

[ Not, in fact, the point he intended to make, but he did walk right into it. ]

Though I'm actually not sure if tents and bedrolls are included in that category.

Edited 2023-10-21 19:09 (UTC)

( — continued from )

[ Needless to say, Rand's answer — which basically amounts to a shrug — comes as a surprise to Astarion, though he's hardly inclined to look a gift horse in the mouth. Still, as the former shepherd approaches the little copse that Astarion's picked out, what the vampire spawn offers is not an immediate segue into a meal (will wonders never cease) but: ]

Last chance to change your mind, petal.

[ He keeps his tone light, the implication being (he hopes) that the warning is more of a courtesy than anything else. (Which it is, in the end, given that things will really only go badly if Astarion loses control and tries to drain the poor boy completely, in itself an outcome he'd rather avoid. He's aware of other adverse effects — namely, about a day of mild wooziness — but that is, at least to his mind, a relatively low cost of doing business.) Still, he beckons the other man over from where he sits in the shade of a tree. ]

I promise I won't take offense if you do. Well, maybe a little.

—forbade.

i went nebulously pre-act 3/the city proper but beep me if you want edits!

—taveren.

—dragonmount.