Tʜᴇ Pᴀʟᴇ Eʟғ | Asᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ Aɴᴄᴜɴíɴ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
illithidnapped) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
faderift2021-06-01 01:09 pm
illithidnapped) wrote in faderift2021-06-01 01:09 pm
[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
As a creature of eternal night he’d never thought much of backwash, it all registered about the same to a cursed tongue. Now, with a little more mortality in his arsenal, he’s wondering when the last time Edgard brushed his teeth must have been.
“Oh— no. Thank you, I’m quite full.”
He shifts in his seat, then, elbow to the edge of the table, fingertips lax. “So, tell me the truth: you didn't come all this way just to track me down over a little misunderstanding, did you?”
Because if so, bravo.
no subject
"Tracked you down because you're a good thief."
He takes another swig.
"'n my experience thieves are usually up to something. Sometimes fun things," He cheers him with the wine bottle. "Sometimes things of another flavor." He takes another swig.
"Either way, thought we should be acquainted."
"So," Another swig. "if it's pleasure, what's your pleasure?"
He leans onto his hand and locks eyes, waiting.
no subject
His tone changes, all demure flattery as he reaches high to twirl a single silver curl around the edges of his index finger.
Diamonds in the rough are few and far between, and this one before him looks very much like a stone for all the grease and grit, but beneath that, yes, all right—
"You first, darling. Something is a terribly broad stroke: do you fancy entertainment? Excitement? Arousal, perhaps?"
no subject
"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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
"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.
no subject
He looks, for all the world, like a cat studying something through glass. And if he had a tail to flick— it’d no doubt be flicking.
“Quite right,” he breathes, sounding all at once relieved. “It’s the grievously overfed I just can’t seem to abide. Spoiled creatures who haven’t a shred of mercy in their hearts.”
He says it as though he doesn’t look the part himself. But then again, considering where he is and how he’s opting to cut his teeth, that’s all facade.
“Someone really should do something about that. And by someone, I mean us.”
no subject
"Did you have someone in mind?"
He looks around the bar and then back at him.
"Because if I were to make a guess as to who that was in here, I'd guess you."
He meets Astarion's eyes again.
"We could just raid the kitchens."
no subject
Scrounging up free food. Honestly. And if they're caught it'll be a far sight worse than what any patron will do to them, that's for certain.
"No, I think gambling makes a much better prospect— don’t you? A game or two of cards with unsuspecting locals."
no subject
"Not a rat, resourceful! Food can feed people. But, fine, if it's going to ruin your pretty outfit."
He sighs dramatically and folds his arms.
"Cards aren't so easy. Last time someone gambled me away and I wasn't even playing!"
He laughs despite himself. "And that was someone I trusted. You? Not so much."