Tʜᴇ Pᴀʟᴇ Eʟғ | Asᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ Aɴᴄᴜɴíɴ (
illithidnapped) wrote in
faderift2021-06-01 01:09 pm
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[OPEN] Young Blood, say you want me out of your life
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
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!]
no subject
Then, with more humor: "I don't indulge in murderous rages. You're quite safe."
Given how his last opponent reacted, she imagines he does inspire the feeling in others from time to time.
no subject
He snaps a card of his own down, winking as it kisses the table, all feigned innocence forgotten.
“Astarion, at your service.”
And then, his eyebrow quirking ever-so-slightly with mischievous pride:
“So tell me, how are those griffons of yours faring?”
no subject
"The company is a bit different than the stables, I think."
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Demure deference gives way to a softer cast across his features when he follows her gaze, a glimpse of familiarity perhaps. Or of fondness.
“I’d say you ought to introduce me, but I’ve been told ears like mine make for the most grievous offenses to delicate nobility here.”
no subject
And she nods at his assessment of her current company, her smile turning down into a grimace. "It is disappointing as ever to see the mistakes of mortals repeated in other worlds. I hope you've not been met with much of it so far."
Again earnest and again genuine. He'd been entierly right when he called her a bleeding heart after all.
no subject
He matches her pick with a casual flick of one card between two fingers, more thoughtfully focused on the game at hand than any real amount of introspection: truly, he's not at all bothered by whatever friction he's come across— most of it is only ever by drunkards who've already lost too much coin to endure anyone's presence with silent dignity, and in those moments where he makes trouble, he always plans ahead.
"Besides, this place is practically a paradise. How could I ever be disappointed?"