[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

[heorte]

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Ellis says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Even without much of an impression, Ellis is absolutely certain that Astarion does nothing at all for free.

"When I'm sent out next, I'll bring you along," cements the agreement. Ellis does what he says he will, and he can give this man a try. Partnership is a weighty term to apply to what feels like happenstance on his end and frivolous curiosity on the other. It's not the most promising start, but then again, Ellis has had worse introductions to people that managed to turn somewhere in the neighborhood of decent.

[illithidnapped]

"A few requirements in advance: please no muck pits, no undercover assignments where I'll need to be utterly pious, and no suicide missions." This isn't a pact deal, after all: if things look utterly dire, you'll be on your own, Ellis, and he'd prefer to make a as clean an exit as possible.

He says this primly— proudly— in the face of that smile Ellis is wearing, wanting to be sure they've set all the figurative cards in place before reaching a proper accord.

[muckspout]

Edgard's smile wavers to a frown for just a moment, but he leans forward a little, trying to look into Astarion's face, his eyes in particular.

"Wouldn't say no to any of those things." He hums tentatively. "But, it depends on what we're talking about which is why I asked you first."

Edgard knows his type. This type has lead him down the most interesting paths in his life, but can be very dangerous depending on their motives. He grins lopsidedly and leans onto his hand.

[kantikoy]

For her part, Adrasteia is beyond charmed by the small place, being sure to commit some of the nearby landmarks to memory so that she can find it again if the possibility presents itself. She looks around the both of them with wide eyes and a wider smile, more than happy to fold herself into whatever small space is available at Asterion's side.

"It smells wonderful in here." She grins at her friend. "Thank you for this." She needs the opportunity to do... something different with her day than the routines she's fallen into, from time to time, but has difficulty managing it herself.

Besides which, meals are always better with company. "How are you finding Riftwatch so far?"

[notathreat]

Ellie wrinkles her nose at the idea, shaking her head.

"I'm gonna leave blackmailing the nobility to you, and stick with stabbing things," she says, half-joking, and reaches for the device-

But he'll notice that she takes a long moment to try to see what he was focusing the lens on, first.

"... but did you see anything good?"

[illithidnapped]

Edgard's given free rein to peer as much as he likes, those red eyes perfectly content to stare back like any figurative abyss, as the saying goes— unblinking under the weight of dark lashes. Lips pulled into an easy smile.

Thievery is what brought them together. With that in mind, well.

"I suppose a tavern full of bustling, drunken souls with lowered inhibitions and coin to spare inspires a certain..." Astarion inhales deeply, sweetly, his chin lifting just so, "desire to divest them from their gains. In a perfectly sporting way, mind you."

A brief pause, before he adds, curiosity evident:

"Do you dabble, darling? Cards? Hustling? —perhaps something a little more brutish, judging by your impressive visage?"

[illithidnapped]

To her happiness, he says nothing, turning his head away to avoid overtly showing any hint of pride. Instead he works for haughtiness— as though this place is beneath the both of them— though it's a touch tamer than it otherwise could be, if he intended to truly make himself petty.

It is, after all, a suitable enough place to feed.

"Mmm? Oh, passable I suppose." He thumbs through listed offerings, attention meandering. "Some of them are competent enough to inspire a certain sense of security."

Some, of course. Not all.

[illithidnapped]

"My dear girl, how utterly inappropriate of you, asking a gentleman to part with such information." said wickedly as he lifts his chin, watching her only peripherally as an index finger pins a single clasp between it and his thumb, judgmental in openly feigned measures.

"I'm not even certain I should be telling you something so scandalous."

Why yes, Ellie. He did find something good.

[molineux]

"Of course," is all Margaery says, nodding with a solemn curve to her mouth that indicates she's absolutely on the same page as Astarion and not at all seeing the thread of goodwill that still lingers through the center of his explanation.

"My relationship with risk has changed since I've gotten here," she says after a pregnant pause, shifting her footing. Perspectives tend to change after one almost dies in a massive explosion. Whatever the case here, at least she won't be as helpless as she was in that moment; the dagger Adrasteia gave her is always close enough to reach.

"My only concern is, what will you do if we attract more prey than you might be able to handle?"

[illithidnapped]

He laughs there, lilting and honeyed, swift to sweep her previously fine-boned fingers up in the tangle of his own.

What a lovely thing she is, up close.

“Why, my exceptional beauty, what does anyone do when they snare a touch more trouble than they bargained for?” His thumb folds soft across her knuckles, cooler than it ought to be. He’s forgone undeath in stumbling through the Fade, but his circulation still stands poor at best.

“They run.”

[molineux]

Her eyes have narrowed under the weight of her smile, and not for the first time, Margaery wonders if his charming brand of self-awareness is what keeps her more negative emotions from ever being roused. It speaks volumes of her experiences, that she cannot help but be drawn into his game even as he lays a trap before her.

"I appreciate your honesty." Her fingers tighten around his, just enough that it mimics a lover's touch - as if attempting to overwhelm a temporary chill with her own heat. It's a bad idea. It's a bad idea. She knows she should step away, but while she may not be angry, Astarion's gaze stokes the embers of her pride - still bruised, still reshaping itself - far too well.

If she were to walk away now, it'd feel far too much like losing. Perhaps she ought to try his brand of reckless behavior for tonight.

"And how can I be the best bait for you, my darling?"

oh good autocorrect made preciously into previously, pls end me

[illithidnapped]

He is sincere in his insincerity. Like a snake that promises to bite if touched, or a cat quick to bare its claws in displeasure, there is a certain reliability to be found in the patterns Astarion so chaotically weaves— or perhaps that in and of itself is a trap. Difficult to say for sure.

Either way, what he offers now with pervasive allure and a stare far too wicked to be kittenish, is a departure from painful normality. An opportunity for risk and reward in equal measure. If by reward, one means excitement, and the satisfaction of a job well done making Kirkwall all the more secure for a little while.

He isn't sharing his coin.

"Well for starters, no dabbling in magic while we stroll hand-in-hand through darkened alleyways. I realize there are plenty of people who dislike mages for their own fretful little reasons, but that fear's more likely to scare off smaller fish...and lure in something bigger." Despite what some might think, Astarion isn't here to cause too much of a ruckus in his dealings.

And as he speaks, he turns her doting grip towards him by degrees, dipping low enough to plant a kiss across the back of her hand for good measure.

"Of course if you haven't any magic at all to speak of, that makes things easier: just tuck your slender little arm around mine, turn that pretty face of yours to the moonlight, and act as though we've just had the time of our lives getting woefully inebriated at the nearest tavern."

[cozen]

"Oh," Bastien says, apparently caught off guard, apparently at a loss for how to reconfigure his two-handed hold on the bow so he can do anything else. The sort of momentary fluster that would make even an Orlesian noble who was quite accustomed to the idea of unfamiliar musicians being dangerous spies think ah, well, clearly not this one.

He figures out which hand the bow is meant to go in and picks the cello up by its neck to bring them closer to Astrarion, joining him at a respectfully friendly distance, and positions the instrument more to make an introduction than to perform.

"Like I said, it is nothing world-shattering, if you know violins. Do you play?"

stick a bow on this y/y

[heorte]

"Alright."

Muck pits might be hard to avoid, considering the majority of what Ellis is good for, but—

"I'll come up with something, and find you when it's time," is said as Ellis rises, leaning across the table to take a last strip of meat from Astarion's plate as a parting gesture.

[notathreat]

"Don't make me kick you," she threatens ineffectually from behind the eyepiece, wiggling it around somewhat to get it to focus on various lights, windows- and then on the darkness in between. Her eyes aren't quite as good as his.

Still nothing. Ellie lifts her head and gives him a look that says she knows that he wants to tell her.

n/n fight me in the pit

[illithidnapped]

“What, not staying for dessert?” Astarion’s expression sinks into affronted surprise, lips pursing; lost already is one sweet-faced amusement, is he to lose another as well?

Pity.

What a loathsome and terrible pity.

[illithidnapped]

He reaches aside, tipping the telescope’s oversized lens high— high— smiling sweetly for good measure. “Your star charts, my dear. Isn’t that what you’re here for?”

A pause, before he adds, with a flash of overlong teeth:

“Besides, you wouldn’t dare.”

[notathreat]

Ellie rolls her eyes outwardly, sighing like a frustrated teenager -- but reaches out to grab the scroll that contains the star chart she's borrowed from the library, so she can kneel down and spread it out. She reaches into her bag and pulls out two rocks -- they seem ordinary, even commonplace but if Astarion looks closely he'll see that they're not made of any soil or mineral found anywhere around here. Completely different color, and they even smell faintly of something like gunpowder.

She weights down the edges of the scroll with them, then seeks out the moons, orienting herself to find the first few astral bodies she's going to seek out.

Only after she does this, does she adjust the eyepiece back up, and pause, pulling away from it to glance at him.

"... I bet I could take you."

[illithidnapped]

“I’m not sure you’ll want to see the outcome of that hypothesis if it’s tested.” His voice drops to a villainous growl, though the sneer he wears is only as mischievous as a wolf mouthing at its kin. “I don’t tend to play nice.”

Says the vampire spawn that fumbled his first deceitful assault against a face he can’t seem to recall. The one who gave away his advantage against Fenris in prowling dark.

But for all the things that could be said about Astarion, he is nothing if not committed to the perpetuity of his own success. And here, in Thedas, it seems so much more attainable.

“Interesting trinkets, by the by.” Segue made with smooth interest and a few wagged fingers towards those rocks.

Star charts, telescopes, powers, foreign, curious little stones— what an emporium of fascination she makes herself in his eyes.

[notathreat]

Ellie just gives him a beaming grin back, and looks on through the glass, the smile lingering. Her shoulders have relaxed, and she takes a while to find the various bodies, familiarizing herself with the new map of the sky. It's dizzying to her, exciting, and after a lifetime of love for a different sky completely, maybe she should miss it more. But this one just seems like something else to swallow down.

How many people get to see more than one set of stars, really?

"Thanks," she says, pulled back to glance at the rocks. Her expression flickers to something more thoughtful and back again, and it takes a second to pull together what she wants to say.

A few seconds, really. So long it seems like she won't say anything. But then she does.

"They're moon rocks. From the moon," she says. "Not one of these moons, but- from a place I was before." Technically, not even her moon. Not really.

"I never got to make it up there myself, but..." she trails off, here. "Somebody I knew brought them back for me."

[illithidnapped]

His expression pinches slightly, smile curling at its edge. Not kind. Not cloying. He thinks visibly, the way an animal does. It’s evident enough, to anyone that looks.

“Well then how do you know they’re real?”

[notathreat]

Ellie looks up at him, then for a moment, really and truly considers it.

"Too many other people's stories lined up," she answers. Not he wouldn't lie to me. "He didn't come in alone."

She'll miss them, too. But now's not the time to really think on them. For now, though, she's learned a little more about Astarion.

[illithidnapped]

“Mm. As you say.” He concedes fussily, shrugging with a carefree glance to one side.

The argument could continue to be pressed. He could harp on if he wanted to, about the untrustworthiness of anyone. Anyone at all. Even groups can opt to lie, or spin a more impressive tale. But he’s fast lost interest in discussing it, knowing her faith holds something unshakable within it.

“Just across the water there, right under that second moon. A certain well-to-do noblewoman who’s been spurning suitors left and right by reputation is...well, shall we say, keeping herself very warm tonight.”

There you go, Ellie.

Never say he doesn’t do a thing for you.

https://i.ibb.co/fqCpVtF/tumblr-ac47b0da7d960b81ff537a80e0537496-2604bd4f-640.gif

[heorte]

Is this sincere? Ellis can't tell. The question does stall his exit, keep him at the edge of the table instead of striding towards the door.

"I'd have assumed you'd be glad to be rid of me," Ellis counters. "So you could proceed with your evening."

A fine meal, and fine company. Ellis isn't blind; he knows what he interrupted, and he doesn't doubt Astarion is capable of getting back on that track once Ellis is gone.

[muckspout]

Edgard doesn't break eye contact and his smile quirks a little.

"So that's why you do it? for fun?"

Edgard breathes out a little.

"It is fun." He admits. "Not cards or hustling, though I've known people who did. Generally something a little more...targeted." He picks up the bottle, shrugging.

"Not everyone here deserves to be" He raises his eyebrows. "divested of their gains. People are struggling, but some people"

He breaks eye contact and takes another swig. "Some people have too much."

He waits to see Astarion's reaction.