thirsted | SALTBURNT

[ speaking with gale has left him less than hopeful. not to mention, had this been his astarion, he thinks he would have heard from him. but still--

he cannot see this name in his contacts and not react to it. ]

I suspect you will not know my name. But I must hope otherwise, all the same.

It's Tilanus. Astarion, do you remember me?

[ Ah. This isn't the first time Astarion's had to deal with this diverging of roads, but it somehow doesn't surprise him any less, or leave him at any less of a loss.

It is a cruel thing, not to be remembered. ]

Tilanus. I am as pleased to make your acquaintance as I am sorry to say I have no memory of you.

There was another, Elodie, who asked me the same thing, and I had no recollection of her, either. I wonder if you would remember each other, but, regrettably, she has since departed.

[ just like gale. unsurprising. disappointing? yes, but it changes not one inch of how he feels about the vampire. he must earn what was lost over again.

but is that not what he does? is that not what his life entire has become? ]

I don't know her name. I know Gale's, and he doesn't know mine, so this isn't new to me.

But I will apologise. I've known you for some months, and there was much that we shared. Much that I know well you would not tell a stranger you had just met.

[ The words that spring to life upon his phone's little screen hit him like a bolt of ice. They're meant as– well, frankly, he's not sure how they're meant to land, but as they are, they feel strangely violating. It isn't that he doesn't believe Tilanus, but more that he resents being presumed to be known — to be told they'd shared something when the man is nothing more to him now than a stranger, to know that he must know something when he knows nothing in turn. ]

You knew another.

If you know such secrets about me, then you ought to know that, too.

[ That is the kindest response he can muster, typed out and deleted and typed out again as he tries (and fails) to fully collect his thoughts. ]

Fair comment.

[ and perhaps true. if details of the events shared were different, perhaps others are, as well. ]

I meant not to offend, I am sorry. I wished only to be honest with you.

I shall not assume the history he shared with me is true of you. And either way, no other shall hear of any of it from me.

[ I wished only to be honest with you. A cold comfort, but comfort nevertheless, as far as Astarion is capable of perceiving any stranger as honest. The whole thing is still unsettling, at best. ]

I appreciate the courtesy. And I'll return it by forgetting this unpleasantness, in turn.

[ He won't, really, but for the sake of advancing polite conversation, it is what it is. ]

[ strange, to be on the other side of this. to know more than he should and not less, to see intimacy turned so suddenly cold. is this what it was like when gortash spoke to him again? maybe. ]

There is a point to clarify, then. My group of wanderers had a problem in our skulls, one that drew us together in common need. An artefact protected us from a terrible fate.

In this, are we the same?

We are.

[ There's little point in lying, when the other man could ostensibly attempt reaching into his head to find the truth.

A pause, then, conciliatory: ]

I was brought here on the eve of arriving at Baldur's Gate.

I see.

I have been there for some time.

If you came from the crash, then, you would have gone through Moonrise Towers. Did you happen to come across a pale woman dressed in red? Long blonde hair, wielding crimson blades.

You describe Orin, if I'm not mistaken.

[ Another pause, as he thinks of the wound that now decorates Gale's torso. ]

I've been informed we have the great misfortune of hosting her here, as well.

So you know her name already. That's good.

There is a better than likely chance she also knows yours, and that is less so.

I probably need not tell you she is dangerous. She doesn't have her blades, but they were the least deadly thing about her.

[ he doesn't know she wounded gale, that would infuriate him. but both of them will be in danger from her. ]

She infiltrated my camp. We never knew for how long, or how much she learned. Certainly enough for names and faces.

[ Tilanus doesn't know yet, but he'll certainly know now— ]

Blades or no, she stabbed Gale in the stomach upon her arrival here, so I hardly need the reminder.

[ He realizes he's being a little snippy as soon as the message has been sent, though he doesn't quite feel bad enough about it to apologize for it. ]

[ apologies are hardly necessary when he's so ready to match that energy. ]

She what? I'll tear her heart from her chest! When was this?

How is he? If a healer is needed, I met one.

Just the other day, while the tourney was still ongoing.

Nothing would please me more than to see her heart removed from her chest, but you should know that death is not a permanent state, here. Kill her, and she'll return within the month.

[ He refrains from answering the last question — he's arguably already given away too much of Gale's business, especially if he's as much of a stranger to this man as Astarion is. ]

[ it must have been after he saw gale. the thought of it, when he just lived through getting lae'zel back from that psychotic-- ]

Oh I've heard. With ease even Withers would envy, what fun.

That doesn't mean she has the right.

I know you are not my Astarion, and he is not my Gale, but I will not stand idly by and let her come for you.

I would not let anyone.

[ he has the same feelings, the same attachment. what would he not do for astarion, particularly? the whole world should belong to them. no version of him could simply be left aside. ]

[ Once again, Tilanus' words, good intentions be damned, strike Astarion like a wave of nausea. His first instinct is rejection, to ask what the other man doesn't understand about the fact that they are strangers, that whatever feelings he has for some other Astarion aren't feelings he wants applied to himself. Even to entertain the man's fancies for the sake of punishing Orin— it's a degree of frustration he's not certain he's willing to weather.

Once, he might have strung him along for the sake of protection, but there's no one here who can really protect any of them, at the end of the day. The house is more powerful than any of them. ]

Indeed, I am not "your Astarion."

[ (The possession grates at him, for its suggestion of something greater.) ]

I am not anything to you but a stranger. If you are extending such courtesy and protection to the rest of the house, I'll take it without any further question, but if it is based on a relationship between us that does not exist, I'd prefer that you forget I said anything at all.

No, indeed you are not anyone's.

You are not the friend I remember, but I would like to be yours. Some of what I know may be the same, some may be different. I would like to know where that is so, and let myself be known, to remove this imbalance. I don't like it anymore than you do.

[ he hates the disparity. they had grown in friendship before because their situation was the same, they grew to trust each other.

is doing so here impossible? ]

I'm sorry. I will give you your space, and leave it in your hands. You have this contact, and my room is [ directions ] if you should wish to speak again.

[ For a long moment, Astarion reads and re-reads the message that's come through, worrying his lip as he wonders if he's been unduly blunt — and swiftly dismisses the thought.

He forgoes a response for the moment, but it isn't as though he'll forget this anytime soon. ]

SALTBURNT | inbox.

@magicincarnate

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