faderift | [CLOSED] My bad habits lead to late nights, ending alone

“Oh, don't start." It's not a soft interjection, he's angled himself— ever-so-slightly— between her and the doorway; truth be told it isn't his intention to fight, Hells, it's not even what he wants, but he isn't ready to let her walk out of here without at least confronting the situation.

"I’m not making you the enemy, but you protecting someone like that: bottom line, it’s trouble. How can you know it won’t happen again? How can you swear no one else is going to turn up run through— or worse?”

A few slender fingers fan as they fit themselves against his chest, tapping.

“Because even I don’t just up and whet blade or teeth on our own kind.”

Abby backs up, her gaze flickering toward the window to show him she's not above leaving through it if he's going to block her way; she won't let herself be cornered, in the same way that he won't take no for an answer. She regrets following him here.

"Because we have history." It seems insane to have to reduce it down into one word, and laughable to have picked the one she did. They had three days, and she had no idea that Ellie was hunting her down for two of them. Including Jackson, all of Abby's history with Ellie amounts to less than thirty desperate, violent minutes.

"And I know it won't happen again because she didn't kill me." Because oh, did she ever have the chance.

"Throw yourself out that window and you'll be lucky if all you do is break your damned neck, let alone your shoulder."

His warning isn't out of concern— not necessarily, anyway. Much like any good card game, the best strategy involves clipping the immediate momentum of your opponent's bluff.

And he isn't about to let her have the upper hand, not even in conversation.

"So that's it, then?" Astarion presses, still lingering passively in his posture. The most tentative of stalemates. "She wounds you, and you wound her, and now it's all done and dusted, never to be struggled with again? Is that really what you think's going to happen, just because she didn't kill you?"

Edited 2021-08-25 05:54 (UTC)

She grimaces in reply, just shy of baring her teeth at him like a wounded dog.

"Yes," she answers, and nearly chases it up with something truer, something so much worse: because I'm the same. The thought twists her into knots. She knows Ellie because she knows herself, and she hates that about the both of them. It's hard to keep her expression level when the disgust clings, stubborn and aching, and the panic simmering away in her gut starts to come to the boil again. It makes the room around her feel so small.

"I know what I'm doing. I'm asking you to drop it."

A beat, before she adds, "Please."

"...fine."

The way he says that word, fine, drags on the single f so deeply that his lip curls under the pressure of it. Fine, he'll stop pressing her. Fine, there's nothing further to be gained from an interrogation. But this isn't the end. Not for his need to know exactly what happened.

And which one is the wolf amongst the herd.

The crease in his browline slackens, expression still somewhat cold with resignation he hadn't intended to give here and now— and it's a shame, he thinks, that he doesn't have the vampiric charm he'd left behind when stumbling headfirst into Thedas: promise or not, he'd be using it now if he did.

"When was the last time you ate? You're going to need something in you, considering all the blood you've lost."

"Thank you," said just as quietly. He's clever, she's known it since they started speaking. If he really wants to know, he'll figure it out in his own time. That doesn't make Abby feel any better about it, but she recognises that there's little she can do to stop him at this point; if she didn't want him prying, she shouldn't have said a damn thing in the first place, and it's far too late now to take anything back.

She has a bad taste in her mouth. Astarion's kinder words are at war with the look on his face.

"Earlier this evening," she answers shortly, realising with a tiny pang of dismay that getting attacked by Ellie out of the blue caused her to drop an unfinished slice of apple loaf. "I'll find something else once I'm back at the Gallows." She has the distinct feeling of having overstayed her welcome.

"Nonsense." Scoffed quickly, given the overwhelming clutter of all sorts and sizes around them, it's easy for Astarion to almost turn in place and pluck up a wrapped pastry of some sort, heavy glaze close to seeping through the packaging when he tosses it to her.

How long it's been sitting there is anyone's guess.

"Take this with you. Eat it before you get to the ferry, unless you'd like to add getting robbed to the fun list of things you've done today." He hates this. Being the voice of reason, rather than the mouthpiece of mischief— or at the very least petty amusement. But there's a limit to what he can witness while keeping his mouth shut, particularly when intertwined fates are on the line.

"I realize we're not exactly simpatico, you and I, but you won't make it far if you don't start using what resources you have. In other words, my darling, adapt. Sooner rather than later."

A beat, and then, as though nothing at all has happened, his mood is lighter. His grin soft and simple, posture relaxed when he fits a few ghostly fingertips underneath his chin.

"Or don't. I won't weep at your funeral either way."

Abby catches the pastry between her fingers, the filmy wrapping crinkling as she peels back a corner of it curiously. Doesn't matter at all to her if it's a little old. She's scraped the white off of old, expired chocolate bars just for a taste; the bar is low.

The way that Astarion changes tracks so smoothly is difficult to keep up with. From caring, to demanding, to sarcastic (biting?), to amused. With her, at her. That's difficult to figure out too. Even after finally meeting him in person she has no idea what he thinks of her, and can't decide if she cares to find out or not.

His quip makes her snort, her thumb gliding underneath of a fold in the wrapping around the pastry to start peeling it back. "Right. You and everybody else."

But she still pauses, glancing back up to gaze steadily at him. Adapt. He isn't wrong. Ellie's been here as long as she has, perhaps longer, but she feels seamless to Abby. Like she's always been there. She doesn't like that.

"... I'll try."

[CLOSED] My bad habits lead to late nights, ending alone

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