[CLOSED] You hate my bad behavior

[illithidnapped]

WHO: Astarion, Loki, Emet-Selch, Dante, possibly others etc
WHAT: catch all for doing some Good for the Cause
WHEN: somewhere around the week following Satinalia party 2.0
WHERE: various
NOTES: violence, brief gore (noted in the specific subject line)

Comments

[arkitect]

"And you have chosen to do so like this, at least for the time being."

It isn't condescending, just... idle musing, as he takes all of that in, considering Astarion's answer. He isn't wrong, necessarily, about what the future could potentially look like.

But there are other considerations, such as:

"You draw dangerously close to severing your nose to spite your face, you realize," he says, equally mildly. "Turning a situation you potentially stood to gain from in favor of serving that purpose instead-- I hadn't thought I would see you pass up such an opportunity."

[illithidnapped]

"Oh please. I have Riftwatch wrapped around my finger." he counters, lifting one dark-gloved hand, littlefinger extended as punctuation.

"Missions fall apart all the time. I'm due for a little failure, if I'm honest."

And it had, admittedly, been why he'd asked beforehand how Emet-Selch might take to that exact outcome.

[arkitect]

"Do you?"

A brow arches, at that. Not to doubt his capability, but-- well, yes, he doubts that claim.

"Rather than aim for failure, surely you might get what you desire in some other fashion."

[illithidnapped]

There, at least, Emet-Selch seems to have won some small measure of Astarion's interest, prompting a pale brow to lift just so.

"...and what other fashion might that be, exactly?"

[arkitect]

He thought that just might do it.

"Tell me, if you would," he begins, arms folded behind his back. "What sort of person, in your estimation, best deserves this ire of yours?"

[illithidnapped]

"I—" He starts. Stops. Air catching against the backs of his fangs when he scoffs:

"What."

This time, his expression seems to drop. A prelude to all his entirely feral bristling, hunching through his own shoulders as he leans forward. Teeth glinting. "What do you mean 'what sort of person'— everyone. Anyone. If they draw breath in this wretched, Blighted world, believe me. They deserve it."

[arkitect]

"A bit more aggressive than expected, but it is a start."

He's not visibly put off by the answer, but he is observing more closely than he appears to be, quiet for a moment as he evaluates.

Eventually, he decides to abandon talking through it less directly.

"What is truly the problem, Astarion. You would lash out thoughtlessly-- what is it that spurs you to turn upon the world in its entirety rather than address the root? Something that you either cannot or will not strike at more directly, I should think, but you may correct me."