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!]
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Ellie goes back to tightening and balancing the telescope, making sure it sits securely, though the inhuman bloodsucking monster part sticks out a bit. He's flippant as hell as he says it, but she's familiar with skating along over horrible shit without stumbling, throwing things out there to pretend that they don't hurt.
"If you could keep my glowy shit more or less under wraps too, that'd be cool. I guess some of the people here think it's awesome to keep mages in towers their whole lives so they don't snap and become demon-infested abominations, but the standards are relaxed right now 'cause of, y'know, the war."
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His smile comes easy, his chin held high.
“Fear is a powerful motivator, as they say.”
And in Thedas, demons and darkspawn and even the Fade itself looms terribly large.
“But if you’re worried about how all those shivering little sheep will respond if they find out you’re a mage under the most unideal of circumstances, just remember that this makes us even: I won’t dare let them harm a single hair on your head. Or imprison them, for that matter— war or no war.”
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She's seen some of these demons. They're not pretty.
Her fingers still pause at his promise, one of those moments where her throat goes tight. She likes him -- kinda hard not to, despite herself -- but she's not prepared that statement. It tugs at her, because he's speaking to parts of her that he has no way of knowing about, and that's precisely the problem.
"Never pegged you for a sap," she answers, looking up at his eyes, her expression wry, half a smile.
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"I don't love it when you make it difficult by saying things like that. Might even tempt me to take back my promise."
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"So, anything in particular you wanna look at? We can even aim this thing across the harbor."
For spying purposes? Surely not.
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A very tall, pale shadow.
"How far out can you see with it? Into Hightown, perhaps?"
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"And I dunno, you find out. You got someone in particular you're spying on?"
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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."
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Gross, when did she become responsible?
"But I have it on loan from somebody else, so don't go swiping it."
Sticking her hands into her pockets, she looks across the harbor at the lights of Hightown, the very distant murmur of the city life lost among the crash of the waves far below.
"What makes a good target, huh?"
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A few twists of the knob, a little correction, and he’s honing in on tall buildings against a starry backdrop.
“First, look for anyone that’s awake at this hour.” said as he lifts his head for a brief moment, carefully studying the differences between what he sees within the eyepiece itself, and what lays sprawling before them. Head ducked back down a beat later, smiling faintly to himself as he hones in on an undrawn window, bright as the sun at midday in comparison to the architecture that surrounds it.
“Much like ourselves, few who stay up late are up to any amount of good.”
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She's got good distance vision, even if it's not up to what he'll be able to see, but everything across the harbor seems like darkness dotted with fireflies and vague shapes.
"... yeah, I can agree with that."
Looking back on her own youth, she was rarely up to anything within the rules when she broke curfew or snuck out. It was different now that she was an adult, but perhaps that was simply because there were fewer rules to break.
"Somehow I don't think they're doing anything too crazy over there. Just a bunch of weird affairs."
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"There's a kind of power in knowing who is consorting with whom, and at what hour. Better still if we ever need a favor, or an appeal, or a little local support."
He steps away, lounging instead across an abandoned crate, languid.
"But I've quite finished for now. Map all the spots you like."
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"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?"
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"I'm not even certain I should be telling you something so scandalous."
Why yes, Ellie. He did find something good.
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Still nothing. Ellie lifts her head and gives him a look that says she knows that he wants to tell her.
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A pause, before he adds, with a flash of overlong teeth:
“Besides, you wouldn’t dare.”
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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."
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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.
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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."
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“Well then how do you know they’re real?”
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"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.
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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.
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She's seen that before, too.
But the response isn't anything she expected, and Ellie sputters, turns red, and pulls a face at him.
"Shit, how do you know that about her?"
Don't think about the rest. Doooon't think about the rest.
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How close he’d been to aligning himself with Diplomacy. How much more he enjoys wicked, wicked secrets uncovered only in shadow. Her expression, however, sparks a proud widening of his own toothy grin. He does love it, dearly, the way her responses run so vivid. So mirthful.
So utterly sincere.
He’d never expected that. To find actual enjoyment in....well. No matter.
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"Fuck me, but you sound like you walked right out of a cheesy vampire novel," she tells him, and lets the grin break through. For all that she's ribbing him, she is enjoying the hell out of herself. This is much better than being up here alone.
"I don't know how you say that shit with a straight face."
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