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
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.
stick a bow on this y/y
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.
n/n fight me in the pit
Pity.
What a loathsome and terrible pity.
https://i.ibb.co/fqCpVtF/tumblr-ac47b0da7d960b81ff537a80e0537496-2604bd4f-640.gif
"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.
;}
New tracks, newer ventures; Astarion could no doubt easily recover from the blow he’d been ever so gently dealt— but it’s clear enough in the sharpness of that crimson-eyed stare, unblinking in its potent fix, that he’s adjusted his own personal wants for the moment. “Sit down. Drink.”
Graceful fingers gesture towards the open seat beside him, rather than the one across the table that Ellis had snatched up as an opportunity, that frigid shade of albinism worn across Astarion’s extended fingertips (across all of him, actually) painted warm by dim tavern light.
Come here.
“And if you’re afraid I’m going to gobble you up at the end of our picturesque exchange, don’t be: I’ll only play dirty if you ask me to. Promise.”
no subject
That still tempt, apparently.
The passing flicker of interest comes to him like a hand reaching out of the dark, catching him by the ankle. But his scrutiny still lapses into a shake of the head, signaling no before Ellis has dredged up the words for it.
His hands had flexed over the back of the chair they'd come to settle upon. Now they lift away. (That he's paused at all, that it took time to consider—)
"It's a generous offer," is a true thing, rather than a politeness. "But I can't."
Shouldn't. Won't. There's a complicated snarl of reasoning behind it.
"I've an obligation," is a true thing too. "Guard duty with Kirkwall's dock patrol. You'll have to forgive me."
no subject
Is the reply that comes, Astarion’s expression narrowing as it bottoms out. Whether it’s in regards to the concept of having to forgive Ellis for forsaking his offer in favor of guard duty, or just forgiving him at all, isn’t clear.
Maybe it’s both.
“But...enjoy your little walk.” said as he pours himself another glass of deep red, leaning back in his seat to make a show of sipping it— his attention not yet diverted to anyone else in sight.
“Here’s hoping nothing frightful finds you in the dark.”
https://i.ibb.co/qddRtd9/image.png
"Don't worry. I'm well-protected."
This is not the vote of confidence in Kirkwall's night watch that it sounds like.
But still, Ellis steps away in the wake of this statement rather than linger. He makes for the door. He doesn't look back.