thirsted: (pic#17656062)
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SALTBURNT | au.










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DETAILSβ€”


ASTARION ANCUNÍN


🍷 THE GREAT BEAUTY 🍷


    According to some, Astarion became a Saltburnt fixture thanks to his pretty face and charming manner; according to others, he was gifted to the Balfours by the man he used to work for. Either way, he's a familiar face for any guests β€” and perhaps a familiar presence in your bed, too, for the right price.




    BACKSTORY:

      Somewhere along the line, Astarion AncunΓ­n made a mistake. Digging around in the papers will reveal a law school track, an early appointment to the position of judge, but then his name disappears from any reputable sources, surfacing instead on the site known as The Szarr Palace, catering to those looking for high-end escorts β€” discreet, talented, the best of the best.

      His current appointment, however, is at Saltburnt, charming and servicing its guests so long as they can pay him for his time. Just don't ask him if he likes his job. As they say, it's a living.





    RUMORS:

      🍷 Some whisper that he comes from wealth. Why this job, then? Maybe he had some debts to pay.

      🍷 It's a shame about those ugly scars on his back. And take care you don't mention them, if you see them β€” to say he's touchy on the subject is an understatement.

      🍷 Prior to coming to Saltburnt, the only complaint his clients ever had was that he'd get jumpy toward the ends of their dates. When asked why, he'd apologize, then bat his eyelashes and say, "You don't know my boss like I do."

      🍷 There's a picture of his younger self somewhere in circulation. On the back is written in permanent marker: the most beautiful boy in the world.

      🍷 More than one client has begged and pleaded for his hand. One, when refused, paid for one of Astarion's scarves, then used it to hang himself.

      🍷 Those who've seen his room in the manor know it to be almost unsettlingly sparsely decorated. He says it's an aesthetic choice. Others think it's because he doesn't believe he'll ever stay in one place for very long.

      🍷 One client, a romance novelist, modeled her next hero after him, including on the book's cover illustration. He burned his copy, but not before reading it.

      🍷 Though he has a standard rate β€” dictated by the amount of time and kind of activity desired β€” he's more flexible in the manor. If you have a juicy secret to share, that's it's own form of currency.

      🍷 The only client he ever cut a date short with committed the crime of asking if he believes in God.

      🍷 While Shadowheart was still climbing the corporate ladder, she convinced Astarion to model for a campaign she oversaw β€” the only one he's ever participated in, and one that was immediately banned in four countries for its provocative nature despite featuring no explicit images whatsoever.

      🍷 He's a known favorite of Armand's β€” and those who've asked him about the arrangement are inevitably shrugged off with a laugh and the admission: "He's the only creature here who might be prettier than I am."

      🍷 Observant guests might notice he goes to the chapel at strange hours β€” and that he's never turned away. Sometimes he stays for minutes, sometimes for hours. He leaves looking a little sad every time.

      🍷 He slid into Louis' DMs a few years before taking up residence at Saltburnt. Strangely enough, their messages have never turned explicit, to the point that they'll occasionally post screenshots β€” of inside jokes, of skincare tips and restaurant recommendations β€” to their respective Instagram stories.

      🍷 Any products he and Louis recommend on their shared Instagram Lives inevitably sell out within the next 24 hours β€” but they've never accepted a single brand deal as a pair, reputedly because to do so would "taint their friendship."

      🍷 He and Gale have attended just one opera together β€” albeit with different partners. The production of Samson et Dalila was lauded, but some in attendance that night claim the escort's gaze never found the stage. Others claim to have seen him crying during the second act, during Delilah's main aria: "Mon cΕ“ur s'ouvre Γ  ta voix – My heart opens to your voice."

      🍷 Every time the priest visits the house, Astarion has a book ready for him. Sometimes fiction, sometimes poetry, always with a pressed flower tucked inside. The staff have seen him spending hours in the library, reading up on the meanings of each before choosing the next bloom.

      🍷 Despite having no obligation to do so, Astarion has occasionally been caught β€” during the periods in which Gale is away β€” tending to the confessional booth, ensuring it remains spotless until its master returns.

      🍷 He's always wearing a necklace with a pendant made of opals arranged in a half-moon. He can't remember where he got it from, but he can't seem to let go of it.





    IMPORTANT CONNECTIONS:
      FATHER GALE DEKARIOS: The one who keeps getting away.
      SHADOWHEART VOLKARIN: A former client in her girlboss days, now old friend.
      LOUIS DE POINTE DU LAC: A friend β€” not a client, not a friend with benefits. A friend.
      ARMAND KAMALI: A (generous) patron.





    OTHER NOTES:

      🍷 Can complete his (extensive) hair routine without ever looking into a mirror.





    VISUALS:










nishtha: (pic#17890090)

[personal profile] nishtha 2025-06-10 11:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ Some things are worth lingering over. A good bottle of wine, an expensive meal, a sunset. The small things that make up a pleasurable time. Sex is like that, too -- good sex, at least, the kind that you can stretch out over a whole afternoon and long into the evening, not chasing anything in particular except the rise and fall of bodies moving together. Expensive, with certain company, but Armand has money to spend, and there's nothing he wants more than this.

The bed is left behind, eventually, sheets rumpled and damp in places. Armand's gift -- an antique diamond and pearl bracelet -- has been given and carefully set aside, next to the silver tray still lightly dusted with cocaine, the thoroughly ravished dinner service, the champagne bucket full of melted ice sweating beads of condensation onto the table. Ella Fitzgerald is softly crooning 'All The Things That You Are' from Armand's iPod speaker on the sideboard.

In the bathroom, the air is steamy and soft. Armand is already in the big clawfoot bath tub, silk robe discarded on the floor, finishing off his flute of champagne while he watches Astarion go about the business of joining him. He's sated but not satisfied, reclining in catlike pleasure in the hot water.
]

I met your friend. Louis. [ He puts the French accent on it, playful. ] Alarmingly handsome, in person. I didn't realise, but we met before, in Paris. Is he here for you?
nishtha: (pic#17890092)

[personal profile] nishtha 2025-06-14 11:24 am (UTC)(link)
Well, you're a rogue for not telling me, in any case.

[ Armand lifts a dripping hand from the water and boops Astarion's nose chidingly with a fingertip. Not for the first or last time, his gaze ticks down to the necklace that's as much a part of Astarion as the delicate scars across his back, the opalescent half-moon riding above his heart. He's never asked about it, capable of enough tact to recognise when something isn't his business -- but he has wondered, nevertheless.

Letting the thought go, he relaxes back into the water, smiling, his dark eyes heavy-lidded.
]

By all means, my wandering star. Please, be welcome. [ Their little call and response, taking turns to play the generous host. He gestures magnanimously at the tub. ] Mi bathwater es su bathwater.
nishtha: (pic#17890085)

[personal profile] nishtha 2025-06-24 02:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's always a deep and private pleasure to see Astarion content, even if it's only for a short amount of time. Armand watches him closely, cataloguing the sight, caught in the habit of hoping it's real and not merely an act. He'd never outright ask about it, but the desire is there, nonetheless.

Distracted, he almost misses the teasing words -- almost.
]

Bitch! Are you calling me a tease? [ He flicks water back at Astarion, then lets his hand slip beneath the surface to hunt for one slender ankle, stroking the shape of his calf and the delicate bones of his foot. He gently tweaks one of his toes. ]

You're right, though. I do love a good challenge. [ He sobers a little. ] But I'll be careful, I promise. No breaking Astarion's friends' hearts, that's the rule.