[OPEN] Young Blood, say you want me out of your life

[illithidnapped]

WHO: Astarion and, gasp, maybe you
WHAT: catch-all for Kirkwall mayhem involving a certain vampire
WHEN: ~whenever~ pick your poison
WHERE: Gallows, Kirkwall proper, anywhere you want
NOTES: 1 intolerable vampire pretending he doesn't give a damn

I: CHARITY

He keeps odd hours, that’s the nature of being a nocturnal monster designed to feed on the blood of his prey— or, well, former monster, as luck would have it. He certainly isn’t turning to ash each time the sun rises, and he isn’t burning to death every time he sinks into a nice, hot, afternoon bath. Food, even, that’s a new luxury too, though he isn’t entirely fond of what the Gallows serves on the regular: his taste runs a touch finer, as a habit— which might be why one passing trip through the market sees an arm slung sweetly around your own for a cheerful bout of unprompted conversation at Astarion’s mercy.

It’s quick, takes barely more than a few moments of lingering closeness, and then—

And then nothing. He’s gone as quickly as he came. Wait— do your pockets feel noticeably lighter?

Pursuit would only find him sometime later, slung casually across a table in some smoky little hole in the wall: drinking a glass of vivid red, eating a very lovely meal and chatting up someone with cheekbones so sharp they could open envelopes via proximity alone.

And he probably paid for all of it with your coin. Oh dear.

II: VICE CITY

“Aha, no, wrong again, darling— that win belongs to me.”

He’s learned the rules quickly. He’s learned everything, quickly, in fact, winking slyly as he rakes a meager mess of coins and knickknacks across the table towards him. Hardly a vivid sum, but enough that the brute opposite to him growls something unintelligible— veering away as the chair they’d been occupying topples right to the floor, the noise of it snapping right through an otherwise pleasant scene.

“Well.” Astarion scoffs, silvered brows raising.  “Talk about a sore loser.”

He’d only cheated a little, besides. Still, red eyes snap to, the edges of his lips curling into an easy smile, gesturing with slender fingers towards the now-emptied seat across.

“Your turn, dearest.”

III: A VAMPIRE STILL

He haunts dark spaces in later hours. Bright eyes in shadow, attentive without exhaustion. The Gallows is bustling in daylight, and near silent without, and he prowls like a cat in the gaps between lanterns, searching for something nameless and shapeless.

Perhaps out of sight until the very last, unsettling second when pale features seem to cut through pitch-soaked corners.

Try not to shriek, if you stumble into his path, won’t you? It is late, after all, and he doesn't fancy a headache.

IV: WILDCARD

[ooc: pick your poison, swap one of the prompts around, opt for daylight and cheerful drinking— the sky's the limit. Astarion can even be caught doing a little studious reading in closed-off spaces, though don't expect him to take kindly to being noticed.

Also I'll match tagging format to whatever suits you, and/or hit me up if you want something else plotwise entirely!]

Comments

[notathreat]

Ellie flashes a smile, straightens up, and aims a light punch at his upper arm before she turns back to the telescope, making a few last adjustments.

"So, anything in particular you wanna look at? We can even aim this thing across the harbor."

For spying purposes? Surely not.

[illithidnapped]

I've been the object of it, certainly. Left a littered trail of broken hearts throughout the city I prowled throughout over the years. Short-lived fascinations, all of them.

[His tone is thoughtful. Arch. Lips twisted easily into a smile.

It isn't a lie if it's true, after all. One little sliver of an image pulled from a larger frame.]

You're not judging me for my escapades, are you?

[bouchonne]

No more than the adder judges the asp for its venom.

[ He smiles with easy cheer. ]

[arkitect]

I suppose that depends on how one views the situation. Can I be called such, when I am clearly alive and well here and now?

[Schrodinger's Ascian, here. He catches that spark of interest, but meets it only with a lazy shrug of his shoulders as he answers.]

[illithidnapped]

Ow, he hisses between the grooves of sharp teeth, resentfully (and wholly performatively, considering it doesn’t hurt in the slightest) before her question distracts him with a vivid flare of unmistakably terrible interest, gathering himself up at her side like a shadow.

A very tall, pale shadow.

"How far out can you see with it? Into Hightown, perhaps?"

[illithidnapped]

Aren’t you just the most charming beast. Almost makes me want to forgive you for giving your heart away.

[Almost.]

Do you enjoy it, then? The novelty of promised companionship.

Or is this more of a...wartime fancy. A little guaranteed certainty in uncertain times.

[illithidnapped]

And I suppose that depends on your definition of the word alive. I myself for example remain technically a very lovely corpse and yet—

[He lifts his hands for show, gesturing with a flourish towards his whole....everything, in fact.]

I died all the same, technically speaking.

[bouchonne]

Well, I've never fallen victim to this weakness during the other wars I've lived through. So I think it might actually be real. What a notion.

[ He shakes his head. ]

But yes. It's actually quite enjoyable. Not needing to be on the hunt at all times. Having a warm bed to enjoy.

[cozen]

So much power, Bastien thinks, but he only communicates it with a slightly eyebrow raise before he does a little backbend, unwilling to take his eyes off this little performance, to retrieve his bow and resume tightening it.

[notathreat]

"Oh, please," she mutters, but bends over a little, pushing the eyepiece into place so he can easily grasp hold of it.

"And I dunno, you find out. You got someone in particular you're spying on?"

[heorte]

"Was it necessary to steal my coin?" is practically a rhetorical question. Of course the answer is going to be yes.

And Ellis is owed his minor, petty retaliation, has collected it, and considers simply leaving now that he's accomplished it.

"I assume you aren't able to pay it back?" is a better question, though Ellis assumes he can also guess the answer to that as well.

[illithidnapped]

If you didn't have a warm bed to enjoy before now, my dear, that one's on you.

[Still, though:]

Just how many wars have you been through now? You hardly look old enough to be such a seasoned veteren.

[illithidnapped]

"Steal?"

His eyes go wide, his voice soft as paper wings as he leans back in his own seat, delicate fingers sprawling across that pale ruff where it tucks itself across his collarbone.

"What a filthy accusation."

Have you any proof, Ellis? Are you certain about those memories of yours— maybe it was someone else that robbed you, or maybe those fingers of yours somehow managed to fumble coin in your day to day everything— or maybe it was Astarion, looking ever the victim in his dismay.

"And here I am, kind enough to share my meal with you. The thanks I get."

[illithidnapped]

"Particular? Not yet."

He takes to that invitation like a duck to— well, water, of course: all too happy to steal first use of what she'd spent so long setting up for herself, peering through it with one eye closed to get his bearings in that first, initial pass.

"The night is young, after all. I've plenty of time to find a suitable target, and— you don't mind, do you? If I borrow this for a little while, I mean. Your stars aren't going anywhere till sunrise."

[arkitect]

...then I suppose we find ourselves in relatively similar situations, though doubtless not the same.

[Being undead and being deceased are separate states of being, after all, and vampiric creatures do tend to be the former; Astarion gets another look-over there, though, a slow consideration.]

I'd wager our experiences in death are quite different, for one.

[illithidnapped]

Oh, no doubt. Believe me, I’d be shocked if you and I had anything in common in the...figurative afterlife. [In so many more ways than Astarion cares to detail, in fact.]

But I’m not here to judge. Just to indulge a little curiosity.

[For that, he smiles pleasantly at that fixed attention on Emet-Selch's part, placing a few soft fingertips across his heart— tap tap tap.]

And now I find myself utterly satisfied. So thank you.

[arkitect]

Are you, truly? I'd just begun to wonder if such a thing was possible.

[Nevermind that he literally interrupted Astarion first, clearly it's all been Astarion's doing-- or so his tone implies.]

You're quite welcome. Really, you ought to take some pride in being indulged so.

[heorte]

A flat look directed back across the table in response.

But being as this is more or less as expected, Ellis takes a moment to fold the roll in his hands, take a bite, chew and swallow before replying.

"You might have asked first," Ellis says, without bothering to tack on any assurances that he might have spent his coin on a nice meal for this—

"You're new?"

Just to confirm. Ellis can't imagine there are two men with similar voices newly arrived and roaming Kirkwall at the moment.

[bouchonne]

Ah, you know how to flatter a fellow. You're certain you don't want to reconsider joining Scouting?

[ A drag on his cigarette. ]

Two, really. Depending on how you define war. When I was born, that was the tail end of the Fereldan Rebellion - the war had really been won by that point, just some border skirmishes - so I don't count that one. Then, when I was a strapping lad, I hid under the table to avoid dying during the Fifth Blight. And now this.

[illithidnapped]

As a general rule of thumb, I don’t like to make it easy.

[Speaking of, however...]

What will you do with the rest of your night?

[illithidnapped]

He could keep playing the wounded doe if he wanted. Lean hard on his own defense.

Instead the grin he flashes in response to that knowing remark from Ellis is nothing short of devilish. Proud. Oh, not for himself— he’s been caught red-handed, and if he thought this would lead to trouble he’d take a far different tack— but for his new companion, for having the nose to sniff out trouble.

“Fresh as spring and twice as warm.” Well.

“...in the figurative sense, at least.”

He flexes his fingertips, head bowed slightly. Cold hands. Cold everything, in fact. Terrible circulation, even with a beating heart these days.

“You’re not angry with me, are you?”

[illithidnapped]

Oh please don’t tempt me. I’d hate to break a promise— let alone two. Especially when it won’t even come with the bonus of companionship.

[Mischievous tone dropped only a beat later, falling into faint shadow like the both of them.]

The shortest Blight in history, if memory serves...and perhaps the most costly, depending on who you ask. Smart of you to keep your head down.

Perhaps not so much this time.

[But we can’t all be perfect.]

[bouchonne]

[ Ah. A lifted eyebrow. ]

You're learning your history.

[arkitect]

Oh, you know.

[He spares a sidelong glance to the door, shifting position where he's perched to keep himself comfortable, though he doesn't yet bother to stand.]

What else does one do in the late hours besides lurk in appropriately dark corners, or even engage in a bit of prowling... [A pause, before he waves that off with an idle gesture.] But no, none of that. I had thought I might take advantage of the quiet for a bit of time to myself. A little light reading, possibly.

[heorte]

"I'm not angry."

Easy to clock as an honest statement. Annoyed, perhaps, but anger is far off, not easily accessed. It would take more than this.

"I'm not such a fool as to carry all my coin in one place."

Though there is some novelty in being pegged as an easy mark, and losing any of his coin to begin with. It's been a long time since anyone took him for that kind of pushover.

"Do you make this a habit?"

Theft. Fine dining. Sharp-faced bedmates. All of the above.